Beware, when thou mayest feel this in thyself, lest thou fall into weariness or bewildered confusion, and do not give up thy exercises nor the act of praying, because the devil may say to thee: "How does this prayer uplift thee, since thou dost not offer it with any feeling or desire? It would be better for thee not to make it." Yet do not give up, nor fall for this into confusion, but reply manfully: "I would rather exert myself for Christ crucified, feeling pain, gloom and inward conflicts, than not exert myself and feel repose." And reflect, that this is the state of the perfect; if it were possible for them to escape Hell, and have joy in this life and joy eternal beside, they do not want it, because they delight so greatly in conforming themselves to Christ crucified; nay, they want to live rather by the way of the Cross and pain, than without pain. Now what greater joy can the bride have than to be conformed to her bridegroom, and clothed with like raiment? So, since Christ crucified in His life chose naught but the Cross and pain, and clothed Him in this raiment, His bride holds herself blessed when she is clothed in this same raiment; and because she sees that the Bridegroom has loved her so beyond measure, she loves and receives Him with such love and desire as no tongue can suffice to tell. Therefore the Highest and Eternal Goodness, to make her attain most perfect love and possess humility, permits her many conflicts and a dry mind, that the creature may know itself and see that it is not. For were it anything, it would free itself from pain when it chose, but being naught it cannot. So, knowing itself, it is humbled in its non-existence, and knows the goodness of God, which, through grace, has given it being, and every grace that is founded upon being.

But thou wilt say to me: "When I have so much pain, and suffer so many conflicts and such gloom, I can see nothing but confusion; and it does not seem as if I could take any hope, I see myself so wretched." I reply to thee, my daughter, that if thou shalt seek, thou shalt find God in thy goodwill. Granted that thou feel many conflicts, do thou not therefore feel thy will deprived of wishing God. Nay, this is the reason why the soul mourns and suffers, because it fears to offend God. It ought then to joy and exult, and not to fall into confusion through its conflicts, seeing that God keeps its will good, and gives it hatred of mortal sin.

I remember that I heard this said once to a servant of God, and it was said to her by the Sweet Primal Truth, when she was abiding in very great pain and temptation, and among other things, felt the greatest confusion, in so much that the devil said: "What wilt thou do? for all the time of thy life thou shalt abide in these pains, and then thou shalt have hell." She then answered with manly heart, and without any fear, and with holy hatred of herself, saying: "I do not avoid pains, for I have chosen pains for my refreshment. And if at the end He should give me hell, I will not therefore abandon serving my Creator. For I am she who am worthy of abiding in hell, because I wronged the Sweet Primal Truth; so, did He give me hell, He would do me no wrong, since I am His." Then our Saviour, in this sweet and true humility, scattered the shadows and torments of the devil, as it happens when the cloud passes that the sun remains; and suddenly came the Presence of Our Saviour. Thence she melted into a river of tears, and said in a sweet glow of love: "O sweet and good Jesus, where wast thou when my soul was in such affliction?" Sweet Jesus, the Spotless Lamb, replied: "I was beside thee. For I move not, and never leave My creature, unless the creature leave Me through mortal sin." And that woman abode in sweet converse with Him, and said: "If Thou wast with me, how did I not feel Thee? How can it be that being by the fire, I should not feel the heat? And I felt nothing but freezing cold, sadness, and bitterness, and seemed to myself full of mortal sins." He replied sweetly, and said: "Dost thou wish Me to show thee, daughter mine, how in those conflicts thou didst not fall into mortal sin, and how I was beside thee? Tell me, what is it that makes sin mortal? Only the will. For sin and virtue consist in the consent of the will; there is no sin nor virtue, unless voluntarily wrought. This will was not in thee; for had it been, thou wouldst have taken joy and delight in the suggestions of the devil; but since the will was not there, thou didst grieve over them, and suffer for fear of doing wrong. So thou seest that sin and virtue consist in choice— wherefore I tell thee that thou shouldst not, on account of these conflicts, fall into disordered confusion. But I will that from this darkness thou derive the light of self-knowledge, in which thou mayest gain the virtue of humility, and joy and exult in a good will, knowing that then I abide in thee secretly. The will is a sign to thee that I am there; for hadst thou an evil will, I should not be in thee by grace. But knowest thou how I thus abide in thee? In the same way in which I hung upon the wood of the Cross. And I take the same way with you that my Father took with Me. Reflect, daughter mine, that upon the Cross I was blessed and was sorrowful; blessed I was by the union of the divine and the human nature, and nevertheless the flesh endured pain, because the Eternal Father withdrew His power to Himself, letting Me suffer; but He did not withdraw the union in which He was for ever united with Me. Reflect that in this way I abide in the soul; for often I withdraw to myself feeling, but do not withdraw grace, since grace is never lost, except by mortal sin, as I said. But knowest thou why I do this? Only to make the soul reach true perfection. Thou knowest that the soul cannot be perfect unless borne on these two wings, humility and charity. Humility is won through the knowledge of itself, into which it enters in the time of darkness; and charity is won by seeing that I, through love, have kept its will holy and good. Wherefore, I tell thee, that the wise soul, seeing that from this experience proceeds such profit, reassures itself (and for no other cause do I permit the devil to give you temptations), and will hold this time dearer than any other. Now I have told thee the way I take. And reflect, that such experience is very necessary to your salvation; for if the soul were not sometimes pressed by many temptations, it would fall into very great negligence, and would lose the exercise of continual desire and prayer. Because in the hour of battle it is more alert, through fear of its foes, and provisions the rock of its soul, having recourse to Me who am its Fortitude. But this is not the intention of the devil—for I permit him to tempt you that he may make you attain virtue, though he, on his part, tempts you to make you attain despair. Reflect that the devil will tempt a person who is dedicated to My service, not because he believes that the man may actually fall into that sin, for he sees at once that he would choose death rather than actually to do wrong. But what does he do? He exerts himself to make the man fall into confusion, saying: 'No good is of any use to you, on account of these thoughts and impulses that come to you.' Now thou seest how great is the malice of the devil; for, not being able to conquer in the first battle, he often conquers in the second, under guise of virtue. Wherefore I do not want thee ever to follow his malicious will; but I want thee to assume My will, as I have told thee. This is the rule which I give thee, and which I wish thee to teach others when there is need."

Now thus I tell thee, dearest my daughter, that I want thee to do. And be for me a mirror of virtue, following the footsteps of Christ crucified. Bathe thee in the Blood of Christ crucified, and so live, as is my will, that thou nor seek nor will aught but the Crucified, like a true bride, bought with the Blood of Christ crucified. Well seest thou that thou art a bride, and that He has wedded thee and every creature, not with a ring of silver, but with the ring of His Flesh. O depth and height of Love unspeakable, how didst Thou love this Bride, the human race! O Life through which all things do live, Thou hast plucked it from the hands of the devil, who possessed it as his own; from his hands Thou hast plucked it, catching the devil with the hook of Thy humanity, and hast wedded it with Thy flesh. Thou hast given Thy Blood for a pledge, and at the last, sacrificing Thy body, Thou hast made the payment. Now drink deep, my daughter, and fall not into negligence, but arise with true zeal, and by this Blood may the hardness of thy heart be broken in such wise that it never may close again, for any ignorance or negligence, nor for the speech of any creature. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO GREGORY XI

Catherine, sent by the Florentines as their representative to the Pope, has reached Avignon and seen the Holy Father. Far from being overawed in his presence, she has evidently felt toward him a mingling of sympathy and tenderness not untouched by compassion. She is impressed by the sensitiveness of the man—by the strength of the adverse influences continually playing upon him from his own household; above all, by his extreme timidity. The gentle, reassuring tone of this letter is almost like that of a mother encouraging a dear but weak-spirited child to make his own decisions and to abide by them. Catherine's sweetness of nature preserves her from viewing Gregory with any tinge of contempt; but we cannot help feeling the contrast between this frail woman of heroic soul and the hesitating figure of the Pope.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Most holy and blessed father in Christ sweet Jesus: your poor unworthy little daughter Catherine comforts you in His precious Blood, with desire to see you free from any servile fear. For I consider that a timorous man cuts short the vigour of holy resolves and good desire, and so I have prayed, and shall pray, sweet and good Jesus that He free you from all servile fear, and that holy fear alone remain. May ardour of charity be in you, in such wise as shall prevent you from hearing the voice of incarnate demons, and heeding the counsel of perverse counsellors, settled in self- love, who, as I understand, want to alarm you, so as to prevent your return, saying, "You will die." And I tell you on behalf of Christ crucified, most sweet and holy father, not to fear for any reason whatsoever. Come in security: trust you in Christ sweet Jesus: for, doing what you ought, God will be above you, and there will be no one who shall be against you. Up, father, like a man! For I tell you that you have no need to fear. You ought to come; come, then. Come gently, without any fear. And if any at home wish to hinder you, say to them bravely, as Christ said when St. Peter, through tenderness, wished to draw Him back from going to His passion; Christ turned to him, saying, "Get thee behind Me, Satan; thou art an offence to Me, seeking the things which are of men, and not those which are of God. Wilt thou not that I fulfil the will of My Father?" Do you likewise, sweetest father, following Him as His vicar, deliberating and deciding by yourself, and saying to those who would hinder you, "If my life should be spent a thousand times, I wish to fulfil the will of my Father." Although bodily life be laid down for it, yet seize on the life of grace and the means of winning it for ever. Now comfort you and fear not, for you have no need. Put on the armour of the most holy Cross, which is the safety and the life of Christians. Let talk who will, and hold you firm in your holy resolution. My father, Fra Raimondo, said to me on your behalf that I was to pray God to see whether you were to meet with an obstacle, and I had already prayed about it, before and after Holy Communion, and I saw neither death nor any peril. Those perils are invented by the men who counsel you. Believe, and trust you in Christ sweet Jesus. I hope that God will not despise so many prayers, made with so ardent desire, and with many tears and sweats. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Pardon me, pardon me. Jesus Christ crucified be with you. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO THE KING OF FRANCE

Catherine's letters to great personages whom she did not know are, as would be expected, less searching and fresh than the many written with a more personal inspiration, but they afford at least an interesting testimony to the breadth of her interests. This letter to Charles V. was evidently written during her stay at Avignon, where she formed relations with the Duke of Anjou, and received his promise to lead in the prospective Crusade. Avignon was a centre of intellectual life and of European politics, and Catherine must have been quickened there to think more than ever before in large terms and on great issues. To think of a matter is always, for her, to feel a sense of responsibility toward it; she writes, accordingly, to Charles V., urging him to make peace with his brother monarch: "For so," says the maid of Siena serenely to the great King—"So you will fulfil the will of God and me."

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest lord and father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you observe the holy and sweet commands of God, since I consider that in no other way can we share the fruit of the Blood of the Spotless Lamb. Sweet Jesus, the Lamb, has taught us the Way: and thus He said: "Ego sum Via, Veritas et Vita." He is the sweet Master who has taught us the doctrine, ascending the pulpit of the most holy Cross. Venerable father, what doctrine and what way does He give us? His way is this: pains, shames, insults, injuries, and abuse; endurance in true patience, hunger and thirst; He was satiate with shame, nailed and held upon the Cross for the honour of the Father and our salvation. With His pains and shame He gave satisfaction for our guilt, and the reproach in which man had fallen through the sin committed. He has made restitution, and has punished our sins on His own Body, and this He has done of love alone and not for debt.

This sweet Lamb, our Way, has despised the world, with all its luxuries and dignity, and has hated vice and loved virtue. Do you, as son and faithful servant of Christ crucified, follow His footsteps and the way which He teaches you: bear in true patience all pain, torment, and tribulation which God permits the world to inflict on you. For patience is not overcome, but overcomes the world. Be, ah! be a lover of virtue, founded in true and holy justice, and despise vice. I beg you, by love of Christ crucified, to do in your state three especial things. The first is, to despise the world and yourself and all its joys, possessing your kingdom as a thing lent to you, and not your own. For well you know that nor life nor health nor riches nor honour nor dignity nor lordship is your own. Were they yours, you could possess them in your own way. But in such an hour a man wishes to be well, he is ill; or living, and he is dead; or rich, and he is poor; or a lord, and he is made a servant and vassal. All this is because these things are not his own, and he can only hold them in so far as may please Him who has lent them to him. Very simple-minded, then, is the man who holds the things of another as his own. He is really a thief, and worthy of death. Therefore I beg you that, as The Wise, you should act like a good steward, made His steward by God; possessing all things as merely lent to you.

The other matter is, that you maintain holy and true justice; let it not be ruined, either for self-love or for flatteries, or for any pleasing of men. And do not connive at your officials doing injustice for money, and denying right to the poor: but be to the poor a father, a distributer of what God has given you. And seek to have the faults that are found in your kingdom punished and virtue exalted. For all this appertains to the divine justice to do.

The third matter is, to observe the doctrine which that Master upon the Cross gives you; which is the thing that my soul most desires to see in you: that is, love and affection with your neighbour, with whom you have for so long a time been at war. For you know well that without this root of love, the tree of your soul would not bear fruit, but would dry up, abiding in hate and unable to draw up into itself the moisture of grace. Alas, dearest father, the Sweet Primal Truth teaches it to you, and leaves you for a commandment, to love God above everything, and one's neighbour as one's self. He gave you the example, hanging upon the wood of the most holy Cross. When the Jews cried "Crucify!" He cried with meek and gentle voice: "Father, forgive those who crucify Me, who know not what they do." Behold His unsearchable love! For not only does He pardon them, but excuses them before His Father! What example and teaching is this, that the Just, who has in Him no poison of sin, endures from the unjust the punishment of our iniquities!

Oh, how the man should be ashamed who follows the teaching of the devil and his own lower nature, caring more to gain and keep the riches of this world, which are all vain, and pass like the wind, than for his soul and his neighbour! For while abiding in hate with his neighbour, he has hate by his side, since hate deprives him of divine charity. Surely he is foolish and blind, for he does not see that with the sword of hate to his neighbour he is killing himself.

Therefore I beg you, and will that you follow Christ crucified, and love your neighbour's salvation: proving that you follow the Lamb, who for hunger of His Father's honour and the salvation of souls chose bodily death. So do you, my lord! Care not if you lose from your worldly substance; for loss will be gain to you, provided that you can reconcile your soul with your brother. I marvel that you are not willing to devote to this, not only temporal things, but even, were it possible, life itself: considering how great destruction of souls and bodies there has been, and how many Religious and women and children have been injured and exiled by this war. No more, by love of Christ crucified! Do you not reflect of how great harm you are cause, if you fail to do what you can? Harm to the Christians, and harm to infidels. For your strife has obstructed the mystery of the Holy Crusade, and is doing so still. If no other harm than this followed, it seems to me that we ought to expect the divine judgment. I beg you that you be no longer a worker of so great harm and an obstructer of so great good as the recovery of Holy Land and of those poor wretched souls who do not share in the Blood of the Son of God. Of which thing you ought to be ashamed, you and the other Christian rulers: for this is a very great confusion in the sight of men and abomination in the sight of God, that war should be made against one's brother, and the enemy left alone, and that a man should want to take away another person's possessions and not to win his own back again. No more such folly and blindness! I tell you, on behalf of Christ crucified, that you delay no longer to make this peace. Make peace, and direct all your warfare to the infidels. Help to encourage and uplift the standard of the most holy Cross, which God shall demand from you and others at the point of death—demanding also from you account for such ignorance and negligence as has been committed and is committed every day. Sleep no more, for love of Christ crucified, and for your own profit, during the little time that remains to us: for time is short, and you are to die, and know not when.

May the flame of holy desire to follow this holy Cross and to be reconciled with your neighbour, increase in you! In this wise you will follow the way and doctrine of the Lamb slain and abandoned on the Cross, and you will observe the commandments. You will follow the way, enduring with patience the injuries that have been offered you; the doctrine, being reconciled with your neighbour; and the love of God, which you will manifest by following the most holy Cross in the holy and sweet Crusade. As to this matter, I think that your brother, Messer the Duke of Anjou, will undertake the labour of this holy enterprise, for the love of Christ. There would be reason for self-reproach did so sweet and holy a mystery remain unfulfilled through you. Now in this wise you will follow the footsteps of Christ crucified, you will fulfil the will of God and me, and His commands: as I told you that I wished to see you observe the holy commands of God. I say no more. Pardon my presumption. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



LETTERS TO FLORENCE

The Florentines played with Catherine as history shows that subtle folk to have played with more than one of the friends whose services they accepted; the story of their dealings with her strongly recalls the situation in Browning's Luria. Having been despatched ostensibly with full powers as harbinger of the formal embassy to be sent later, Catherine carried through her part of the negotiations with expedition, prudence and entire success. It shows how such unconventional democracy and matter-of- fact respect for spiritual values existed in the later middle ages, that no one seems to have been surprised at the situation. Apparently it was considered quite natural that a powerful republic should send as its representative to the papal court a young woman, the daughter of simple tradespeople, whose life had been quietly passed in her father's house. Gregory bore himself to Catherine with compunctious deference. On the third day after her arrival she spoke in full consistory, pleading the cause of peace. The result she records in this letter: the Pope put the whole matter in her hands. To the young Dominican were left the terms of reconciliation between the two rival powers.

All now depended upon the arrival of the Florentine ambassadors; but these gentlemen failed to appear, while Florence continued to pursue a contumacious policy. The insult, alike to the Pope and to Catherine, was obvious. Avignon jested, shrugged shoulders, finally sneered. Gregory gently told Catherine the truth—that her friends had played her false. Few more mortifying situations than that in which she found herself could be conceived.

The spirited letter which follows was written ten days after her arrival. She speaks, as usual, without reserve, but it is noteworthy that the letter contains no word of personal reproof beyond the quiet statement: "You might bring great shame and reproach upon me. For nothing but shame and confusion could result if I told the Pope one thing and you another." When at last the ambassadors arrived, they brought small comfort, for they refused to confer with Catherine. In the second letter, written after they had come to a personal friend in Florence, she tells the situation frankly, and with dignity, but still with remarkable freedom from personal bitterness. In this time of test, no lower element than sorrow for the failure of her cause appears to have been present in her mind.



TO THE EIGHT OF WAR CHOSEN BY THE COMMUNE OF FLORENCE, AT WHOSE INSTANCE THE SAINT WENT TO POPE GREGORY XI

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest fathers and brothers in Christ Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you true sons, humble and obedient to your father in such wise that you may never look back, but feel true grief and bitterness over the wrong that you have done to your father. For if he who does wrong does not rise in grief above the wrong he has done, he does not deserve to receive mercy. I summon you to true humiliation of your hearts; not looking back, but going forward, following up the holy resolutions which you began to take, and growing stronger in them every day, if you wish to be received in the arms of your father. As sons who have been dead, do you ask for life; and I hope by the goodness of God that you shall have it, if you are willing really to humble yourselves and to recognize your faults.

But I complain strongly of you, if it is true what is said in these parts, that you have imposed a tax upon the clergy. If this is so, it is a very great evil for two reasons. The first is that you are wronging God by it, for you cannot do it with a good conscience. But it seems to me that you are losing your conscience and everything good; it seems as if you cared for nothing but transitory things of sense, that pass like the wind. Do you not see that we are mortal, and must die, and know not when? Therefore it is great folly to throw away the life of grace, and to bring death on one's own self. I do not wish you to do so any more, for if you did you would be turning back, and you know that it is not he who begins who deserves glory, but he who perseveres to the end. So I tell you that you would never reach an effective peace, unless by perseverance in humility, no longer insulting or offending the ministers and priests of Holy Church.

This is the other thing that I was telling you was harmful and bad. For beside the evil I spoke of that comes from wronging God, I tell you that such action is ruin to your peace. For the Holy Father, if he knew it, would conceive greater indignation against you.

That is what some of the cardinals have said, who are seeking and eagerly desiring peace. Now, hearing this report, they say: "It doesn't seem true that the Florentines want to have peace made; for if it were true, they would beware of any least action that was against the will of the Holy Father and the habits of Holy Church." I believe that sweet Christ on earth himself may say these and like words, and he has excellent reason to say them if he does.

I tell you, dearest fathers, and I beg you, not to choose to hinder the grace of the Holy Spirit, which by no merits of yours He by His clemency is disposed to give you. You might bring great shame and reproach upon me. For nothing but shame and confusion could result if I told the Holy Father one thing and you did another. I beg you that it may not be so any more. Nay, do you exert yourselves to show in word and deed that you wish peace and not war.

I have talked to the Holy Father. He heard me graciously, by God's goodness and his own, showing that he had a warm love of peace; like a good father, who does not consider so much the wrong the son has done to him, as whether he has become humble, so that he may be shown full mercy. What peculiar joy he felt my tongue could not tell. Having discussed with him a good length of time, at the end of our talk he said that if your case were as I presented it to him, he was ready to receive you as sons, and to do what seemed best to me. I say no more here. It seems to me that absolutely no other answer ought to be given to the Holy Father until your ambassadors arrive. I marvel that they are not here yet. When they shall have come, I shall talk to them, and then to the Holy Father, and as I shall find things disposed I will write you. But you, with your taxes and frivolities, are spoiling all that is sown. Do so no more, for the love of Christ crucified and for your own profit. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.

Given in Avignon, the 28th day of June, 1376.



TO BUONACCORSO DI LAPO IN FLORENCE WRITTEN WHEN THE SAINT WAS AT AVIGNON

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest brother in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you and the others your lords, pacify your heart and soul in His most sweet Blood, wherein all hate and warfare is quenched, and all human pride is lowered. For in the Blood man sees God humbled to his own level, assuming our humanity, which was opened and nailed and fastened on the Cross, so that it flows from the wounds of the Body of Christ crucified, and pours over us the Blood which is ministered to us by the ministers of Holy Church. I beg you by the love of Christ crucified to receive the treasure of the Blood given you by the Bride of Christ. Be reconciled, be reconciled to her in the Blood; recognize your sins and offences against her. For he who recognizes his sin, and shows that he does so by his deeds, and humbles him, always receives mercy. But he who shows repentance only in speech, and goes no further in works, never finds it. I do not say this so much for you as for others who might fall into this fault.

Oh me, oh me, dearest brother! I mourn over the methods which have prevailed in asking the Holy Father for peace. For words have been more in evidence than deeds. I say this because when I came yonder into the presence of you and your lords, they seemed by their words to have repented for their wrong, and to be willing to humble themselves and to ask mercy from the Holy Father. And when I said to them: "See, gentlemen, if you intend to show all possible humility in deed and speech, and wish me to offer you like dead children to your father, I will take all the trouble you wish in this matter, otherwise I will not go yonder," they answered me that they were content. Alas, alas! dearest brothers, this was the way and the door by which you ought to have entered, and there is no other. Had this way been followed in deed as in word, you would have had the most glorious peace that anyone ever gained. And I do not say this without reason, for I know what the Holy Father's disposition was; but since we began to leave that path, following the astute ways of the world, doing differently from what our words had previously implied, the Holy Father has had reason, not for peace, but for more disturbance. For when your ambassadors came into these parts, they did not hold to the right way which the servants of God indicated to them. You went on in your own ways. And I never had a chance to confer with them, as you told me that you would direct when I asked for a letter of credentials, so that we might confer together about everything, and you said: "We do not believe that this thing will ever be accomplished by any other hands than those of the servants of God." Exactly the contrary has been done. All is because we have not yet true recognition of our faults. I perceive that those humble words proceeded rather from fear and policy than from a real impulse of love and virtue; for had the wrong done really been recognized, deeds would have corresponded to the sound of words, and you would have trusted your needs and what you wished from the Holy Father to the hands of the true servants of God. They would so have conducted your affairs and those of the Holy Father that you would have reached a good understanding. You have not done it; wherefore I have felt great bitterness, over the wrong done to God and over our loss.

But you do not see what evil and what great misfortunes come from your obstinacy, and clinging fast to your resolution! Oh me, oh me! loose yourselves from the bond of pride, and bind you to the humble Lamb; and do not scorn or oppose His Vicar. No more thus! For the love of Christ crucified! Hold not His Blood cheap! That which has not been done in past time, do it now. Do not feel bitter or scornful should it seem to you that the Holy Father demanded what appeared very hard and impossible to do. Nevertheless he will not wish anything but what is possible to you. But he does as a true father, who beats his son when he does wrong. He reproves him very severely, to make him humble, and cognizant of his fault; and the true son does not grow angry with his father, for he sees that whatever he does is done for love of him; therefore the more the father drives him off, the more he returns to him, ever asking for mercy. So I tell you, on behalf of Christ crucified, that the more times you should be spurned by our father Christ on earth, so many times you are to flee to him. Let him do as he will, for he is right.

Behold that now he is coming to his bride, that is to hold the seat of St. Peter and St. Paul. Do you run to him at once, with true humility of heart and amendment of your sins, following the holy principle with which you began. So doing, you shall have peace, spiritual and bodily. And if you do in any other way, our ancestors never had so many woes as we shall have, for we shall call down the wrath of God upon us, and shall not share in the Blood of the Lamb.

I say no more. Be as urgent as you can, now that the Holy Father is to be at Rome. I have done, and shall do, what I can, until death, for the honour of God and for your peace, in order that this obstacle may be removed, for it hinders the holy and sweet Crusade. If no other ill should come from it, we are worthy of a thousand hells. Comfort you in Christ our sweet Jesus, for I hope by His goodness that if you will keep in the way you should you will have a good peace. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO GREGORY XI

The attempt to reconcile Gregory with the Florentines miscarried through their own fault. Catherine, far from being daunted by mortification or failure, bent herself with new energy to the cause which she had even more deeply at heart—the return of the Pope to Rome. The ascendency which she obtained over his sensitive spirit was soon evident to everyone, and no sooner was it realized than counter influences were set to work. Other people beside this woman of Siena could write letters, and, since Gregory proved superstitious and susceptible to the influence of holy fools, why, there were ecstatics enough in Europe! The Pope, as is obvious from this reply of Catherine's, had received an anonymous epistle, craftily wrought, purporting to come from a man of God, working on his well-known love for his family and timidity of nature, warning him of poison should he venture to return to Rome. Whether Catherine's surmise that the letter was a forgery proceeding from the papal court was justified we do not know; the episode is of interest to us now chiefly because it called forth a reply which shows how sardonic the meek of the earth can be. Catherine's trenchant exposure of the weakness of the anonymous correspondent shows her in a new aspect. Terrible is the scorn of the gentle. "He who wrote it does not seem to me to understand his trade very well; he ought to put himself to school," writes she, and proceeds with analysis so convincing and exhortation so invigorating that even the vacillating Gregory must have been magnetized afresh with power to resolve. One feels in the letter that Catherine is as near impatience with him and with the situation as is permitted to a saint. Gregory must have felt the sting in her words when she tells him plainly that his correspondent treats him like a coward or a frightened child, and adds on her own part, "I pray you on behalf of Christ crucified that you be no longer a timorous child, but manly. Open your mouth, and swallow down the bitter for the sake of the sweet." If anyone could hold a weak nature true to its better self, it would be this woman, endued as she was with a vitality that tingles through her words down the centuries.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Most holy and reverend sweet father in Christ sweet Jesus: your poor unworthy daughter Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, writes to your Holiness in His precious Blood, with desire to see you so strong and persevering in your holy resolve that no contrary wind can hinder you, neither devil nor creature. For it seems that your enemies are disposed to come, as Our Saviour says in His holy gospel, in sheeps' raiment, looking like lambs, while they are ravening wolves. Our Saviour says that we should be on our guard against such. Apparently, sweet father, they are beginning to approach you in writing; and beside writing, they announce to you the coming of the author, saying that he will arrive at your door when you know it not. The man sounds humble when he says, "If it is open to me, I will enter and we will reason together"; but he puts on the garment of humility only that he may be believed. And the virtue in which pride cloaks itself is really boastful.

So far as I have understood, this person has treated your Holiness in this letter as the devil treats the soul, who often, under colour of virtue and compassion, injects poison into it. And he uses this device especially with the servants of God, because he sees that he could not deceive them with open sin alone. So it seems to me that this incarnate demon is doing who has written you under colour of compassion and in holy style, for the letter purports to come from a holy and just man, and it does come from wicked men, counsellors of the devil, who cripple the common good of the Christian congregation and the reform of Holy Church, self-lovers, who seek only their own private good. But you can soon discover, father, whether it came from that just man or not. And it seems to me that, for the honour of God, you must investigate.

So far as I can understand, I do not think the man a servant of God, and his language does not so present him—but the letter seems to me a forgery. Nor does he who wrote it understand his trade very well. He ought to put himself to school—he seems to have known less than a small child.

Notice, now, most Holy Father: he has made his first appeal to the tendency that he knows to be the chief frailty in man, and especially in those who are very tender and pitiful in their natural affections, and tender to their own bodies—for such men as these hold life dearer than any others. So he fastened on this point from his first word. But I hope, by the goodness of God, that you will pay more heed to His honour and the safety of your own flock than to yourself, like a good shepherd, who ought to lay down his life for his sheep.

Next, this poisonous man seems on the one hand to commend your return to Rome, calling it a good and holy thing; but, on the other hand, he says that poison is prepared for you there; and he seems to advise you to send trustworthy men to precede you, who will find the poison on the tables— that is, apparently, in bottles, ready to be administered by degrees, either by the day, or the month, or the year. Now I quite agree with him that poison can be found—for that matter, as well on the tables of Avignon or other cities as on those of Rome: and prepared for administration slowly, by the month, or the year, or in large quantities, as may please the purchaser: it can be found everywhere. So he would think it well for you to send, and delay your return for this purpose he proposes that you wait till divine judgment fall by this means on those wicked men who, it would seem, according to what he says, are seeking your death. But were he wise, he would expect that judgment to fall on himself, for he is sowing the worst poison that has been sown for a long time in Holy Church, inasmuch as he wants to hinder you from following God's call and doing your duty. Do you know how that poison would be sown? If you did not go, but sent, as the good man advises you, scandal and rebellion, spiritual and temporal, would be stirred up—men finding a lie in you, who hold the Seat of Truth. For since you have decided on your return and announced it, the scandal and bewilderment and disturbance in men's hearts would be too great if they found that it did not happen. Assuredly he says the truth: he is as prophetic as Caiphas when he said: "It is necessary for one man to die that the people perish not." He did not know what he was saying, but the Holy Spirit, who spoke the truth by his mouth, knew very well—though the devil did not make him speak with this intention. So this man is likely to be another Caiphas. He prophesies that if you send, men will find poison. Truly so it is; for were your sins so great that you stayed and they went, your confidants will find poison bottled in their hearts and mouths, as was said. And not only enough for one day, but it would last the month and the year before it was digested. Much I marvel at the words of this man, who commends an act as good and holy and religious, and then wants this holy act to be given up from bodily fear! It is not the habit of the servants of God ever to be willing to give up a spiritual act or work on account of bodily or temporal harm, even should life itself be spent: for had they done thus, none of them would have reached his goal. For the perseverance of holy and good desire into good works, is the thing which is crowned, and which merits glory and not confusion.

Therefore I said to you, Reverend Father, that I desired to see you firm and stable in your good resolution (since on this will follow the pacification of your rebellious sons and the reform of Holy Church) and also to see you fulfil the desire felt by the servants of God, to behold you raise the standard of the most holy Cross against the infidels. Then can you minister the Blood of the Lamb to those wretched infidels: for you are cupbearer of that Blood, and hold the keys of it.

Alas, father, I beg you, by the love of Christ crucified, that you turn your power to this swiftly, since without your power it cannot be done. Yet I do not advise you, sweet father, to abandon those who are your natural sons, who feed at the breasts of the Bride of Christ, for bastard sons who are not yet made lawful by holy baptism. But I hope, by the goodness of God, that if your legitimate sons walk with your authority, and with the divine power of the sword of holy Writ, and with human force and virtue, these others will turn to Holy Church the Mother, and you will legalize them. It seems as if this would be honour to God, profit to yourself, honour and exaltation to the sweet Bride of Christ Jesus, rather than to follow the foolish advice of this just man, who propounds that it would be better for you and for other ministers of the Church of God to live among faithless Saracens than among the people of Rome and Italy.

I am pleased by the commendable hunger that he has for the salvation of the infidels, but I am not pleased that he wishes to take the father from his lawful sons, and the shepherd from the sheep gathered in the fold. I think he wants to treat you as the mother treats the child when she wants to wean him: she puts something bitter on her bosom, that he may taste the bitterness before the milk, so that he may abandon the sweet through fear of the bitter; because a child is more easily deluded by bitterness than by anything else. So this man wants to do to you, suggesting to you the bitterness of poison and of great persecution, to delude the childishness of your weak sensuous love, that you may leave the milk through fear: the milk of grace, which follows on your sweet return. And I beg of you, on behalf of Christ crucified, that you be not a timorous child, but manly. Open your mouth, and swallow down the bitter for the sweet. It would not befit your holiness to abandon the milk for the bitterness. I hope by the infinite and inestimable goodness of God, that if you choose He will show favour to both us and to you; and that you will be a firm and stable man, unmoved by any wind or illusion of the devil, or counsel of devil incarnate, but following the will of God and your good desire, and the counsel of the servants of Jesus Christ crucified.

I say no more. I conclude that the letter sent to you does not come from that servant of God named to you, and that it was not written very far away; but I believe that it comes from very near, and from the servants of the devil, who have little fear of God. For in so far as I might believe that it came from that man, I should not hold him a servant of God unless I saw some other proof. Pardon me, father, my over-presumptuous speech. Humbly I ask you to pardon me and give me your benediction. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. I pray His infinite Goodness to grant me the favour soon, for His honour, to see you put your feet beyond the threshold in peace, repose, and quiet of soul and body. I beg you, sweet father, to grant me audience when it shall please your Holiness, for I would find myself in your presence before I depart. The time is short: therefore, wherever it may please you, I wish that it might be soon. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO MONNA LAPA HER MOTHER BEFORE SHE RETURNED FROM AVIGNON

Catherine succeeded in her great aim. In September, 1376, Gregory actually started for Rome. Her mission being ended, Catherine set forth on her homeward journey on the same day as the Pope, though by a different route. But her progress was interrupted at Genoa, where, owing to illness among her companions, she was detained for a month in the house of Madonna Orietta Scotta. Her prolonged absence seems to have been too much for the patience of Monna Lapa, who was always unable to understand in the least the actions of her puzzling though beloved child. Catherine, though lifted into the region of great anxieties and great triumphs, was yet always tenderly mindful of the claims of home. Very daughterly, very gently wise, is this little letter to the lonely and fretful mother, written when the saint had just passed through those exciting and decisive months at the Papal court.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest mother in Christ sweet Jesus: Your poor, unworthy daughter Catherine comforts you in the precious Blood of the Son of God. With desire have I desired to see you a true mother, not only of my body but of my soul; for I have reflected that if you are more the lover of my soul than of my body, all disordinate tenderness will die in you, and it will not be such a burden to you to long for my bodily presence; but it will rather be a consolation to you, and you will wish, for the honour of God, to endure every burden for me, provided that the honour of God be wrought. Working for the honour of God, I am not without the increase of grace and power in my soul. Yes, indeed, it is true that if you, sweetest mother, love my soul better than my body, you will be consoled and not disconsolate. I want you to learn from that sweet mother, Mary, who, for the honour of God and for our salvation, gave us her Son, dead upon the wood of the most holy Cross. And when Mary was left alone, after Christ had ascended into Heaven, she stayed with the holy disciples; and although Mary and the disciples had great consolation together, and to separate was sorrow, nevertheless, for the glory and praise of her Son, for the good of the whole universal world, she consented and chose that they should go away. And she chose the burden of their departure rather than the consolation of their remaining, solely through the love that she had for the honour of God and for our salvation. Now, I want you to learn from her, dearest mother. You know that it behoves me to follow the will of God; and I know that you wish me to follow it. His will was that I should go away; which going did not happen without mystery, nor without fruit of great value. It was His will that I should come, and not the will of man; and whoever might say the opposite, it is not the truth. And thus it will behove me to go on, following His footsteps in what way and at what time shall please His inestimable goodness. You, like a good, sweet mother, must be content, and not disconsolate, enduring every burden for the honour of God, and for your and my salvation. Remember that you did this for the sake of temporal goods, when your sons left you to gain temporal wealth; now, to gain eternal life, it seems to you such an affliction that you say that you will go and run away if I do not reply to you soon. All this happens to you because you love better that part which I derived from you—that is, your flesh, with which you clothed me—than what I have derived from God. Lift up, lift up your heart and mind a little to that sweet and holiest Cross where all affliction ceases; be willing to bear a little finite pain, to escape the infinite pain which we merit for our sins. Now, comfort you, for the love of Christ crucified, and do not think that you are abandoned either by God or by me. Yet shall you be comforted, and receive full consolation; and the pain has not been so great that the joy shall not be greater. We shall come soon, by the mercy of God; and we should not have delayed our coming now, were it not for the obstacle we have had in the serious illness of Neri. Also Master Giovanni and Fra Bartolommeo have been ill.... I say no more. Commend us.... Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love!



TO MONNA GIOVANNA DI CORRADO MACONI

Monna Lapa was evidently not the only mother in Siena who fretted over the long absence from home of Catherine and her spiritual children. Monna Giovanna, of the noble family of the Maconi, longed for the presence of Catherine's secretary, her beloved son Stefano. This is the second letter which Catherine wrote in the effort to reconcile her. We cannot be surprised if she murmured. Stefano had known Catherine for a few months only when she bore him off with her to Avignon. Their relations dated from January, 1376, when at his entreaty she healed a feud of long standing between the Maconi and the rival house of the Tolomei. From this time he attached himself to her person, and his devotion to her made him an object of ridicule to his bewildered former friends. He was, by all accounts, a singularly attractive and lovable young man—sunny, light-hearted, and popular wherever he went. Catherine from the first loved him, as she avows in this letter, with especial tenderness. She made him her trusted intimate, and from now until shortly before her death he was in almost constant attendance upon her, or when away was still occupied in her affairs. Catherine was evidently on intimate and affectionate terms with the rest of the Maconi family also; but it is not strange if Monna Giovanna developed a little motherly jealousy, as she saw her brilliant son not only absorbed by this new friendship, but borne away to distant lands. Catherine's letter is as applicable to-day as then, to all parents whose misguided tenderness would seek to hinder their children in a high vocation.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

To you, dearest sister and daughter in Christ Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write in His precious Blood, with desire to see you clothed in the wedding garment. For I consider that without this garment the soul cannot please its Creator, nor take its place at the Marriage Feast in the enduring life. I wish you, therefore, to be clothed in it; and in order that you may clothe you the better, I wish you to divest yourself of all self-love according to nature and the senses, which you feel for yourself, your children, and any other created thing. You ought to love neither yourself nor anything else apart from God; for it is impossible that a man can serve two masters; if he serve the one, he does not give satisfaction to the other. And there is no one who can serve both God and the world, for they have no harmony with each other. The world seeks honour, rank, wealth, sons in high place, good birth, sensuous pleasure and indulgence, all rooted in perverted pride; but God seeks and wants exactly the opposite. He wants voluntary poverty, a humbled heart, disparagement of self and of every worldly joy and grace; that personal honour be not sought, but the honour of God and the salvation of one's neighbour. Let a man seek only in what way he may clothe him in the fire of most ardent charity with the ornament of sweet and sincere virtue, with true and holy patience; let him take no revenge on another for any injury his neighbour may show him, but endure all in patience, seeking only to pass sentence on himself, because he sees that he has wronged the Sweet Primal Truth. And what he loves, let him love in God, and apart from God love nothing.

And did you say to me, "In what way should I love?" I answer you that children and everything else should be loved for love of Him who created them, and not for love of one's self or the children; and that God should never be wronged for their sake or any other. That is, do not love through regard to any utility, nor as your own thing, but as a thing lent to you: since whatever is given us in this life is given for use, as a loan, and is left to us so long only as pleases the Divine Goodness which gave it us. You should use everything, then, as a steward of Christ crucified, spending your temporal substance so far as is possible to you for the poor, who stand in the place of God; and so you ought to spend your children, nourishing and educating them ever in the fear of God, and wishing that they should die rather than wrong their Creator. Oh, make a sacrifice of yourself and them to God! And if you see that God is calling them, offer no resistance to His sweet will: but if they welcome it with one hand, do you reach out both like a true loving mother, who loves their salvation; do not desire to shape their lives to suit yourself—for this would be a sign that you loved them apart from God—but with any state to which God calls them, with that be you content. For a mother who loves her children according to the wickedness of the world, says many a time: "It pleases me well that my children should please God; they can serve Him in the world as well as anywhere else." But it happens often to these simple mothers, who want to plunge their children in the world, that later they possess those children neither in the world nor in God. And it is a just thing that they should be deprived of them, spirit and body, since such ignorance and pride reigns in them that they want to lay down law and rule to the Holy Spirit, who is calling them. Such people do not love their children in God, but with sensuous self-love apart from God, for they love their bodies more than their souls. Never, dearest sister and daughter in Christ sweet Jesus, could he clothe himself in Christ crucified who had not first divested him of this. I hope by the goodness of God that all this will not apply to you, but that you will give yourself and them to the honour and glory of the Name of God, like a true good mother, and so shall you be clothed in the Wedding Garment. But in order that you may clothe you the better, I want that you should lift your desire and heart above the world and all its doings, and that you should open the eye of the mind to know what love God bears to you, who has given you, for love, the Word, His Only-Begotten Son; and the Son in burning love has given you life, and has sacrificed His Body that He might cleanse us with His Blood. Ignorant are we and wretched who nor know nor love so great a benefit! But all this is because our eyes are closed; for were they open, and had they fastened themselves on Christ crucified, they would not be ignorant nor ungrateful in presence of so great grace. Therefore I say to you, keep your eyes ever open, and fasten them fixedly on the Lamb that was slain, in order that you may never fall into ignorance.

Up, sweetest daughter, let us delay no more! Let us recover the time we have lost, with true and perfect love; so that, clothing ourselves in this life with the garment I spoke of, we may joy and exult at the Marriage Feast in the enduring life—you and your husband and your children together. And comfort you sweetly, and be patient, and do not grow disturbed because I have kept Stefano so long: for I have taken good care of him, for by love and tenderness I have become one thing with him, therefore I have treated your things as if they were my own. I think you have not taken this in bad part. I wish to do whatever I can for him and for you, even to death. You, mother, bore him once; and I wish to bear him and you and all your family, in tears and sweats, by continual prayers and desire for your salvation.

I say no more. Commend me to Currado, and bless all the rest of the family, and especially my little new plant, that has just been planted anew in the Garden of Holy Church. Be it commended to you, and do you bring it up for me virtuously, so that it may shed fragrance among the other flowers. God fill you with His most sweet favour. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO MESSER RISTORO CANIGIANI

Apart from her relations with Religious seeking to follow the Counsels, Catherine directed the life of a number of devout laymen. Among these was Ristoro Canigiani, an honourable citizen of Florence, whose younger brother, Barduccio, became one of her secretaries, and was with her at her death. In the first letter to Ristoro here given, we see that he had already become Catherine's disciple. He had evinced his sincerity by forgiving his enemies—a feat more practical and difficult for most men in those days than now—by withdrawing in a measure from society— (ecclesiastical, one notes, as well as secular)—and by embracing the simple life, selling his superfluous possessions. In the second letter given, he has evidently advanced in experience. Like many religious souls since his day, he suffers from scruples lest he be unworthy to receive the Holy Communion. Catherine handles his difficulties tenderly and wisely, in words which all anxious souls would do well to take to heart. She has no reproofs for this excellent man, only applause and encouragement. It is noteworthy that neither in these letters nor in any others does she seek to induct Ristoro into that region of ecstatic mystery where she herself lived, and whither she was wont to expect—often in vain—certain of her friends to follow her. The standard which she sets for this devout layman could not be better summed up than in the familiar words: "A sober, godly, and righteous life."

In other letters to Ristoro she seeks to inspire him with a fervour of charity by very beautiful meditations, in which she presents the love of friends and family as sanctified and glorified by its relation to the all- enfolding Love from which all pure human affection must proceed. In her attitude toward the natural world and its claims, Catherine again recalls St. Bernard, who, in naming the degrees of love, starts from an hypothesis which sets forth natural things, not as evil and destroying, but good, and waiting their transfiguration. Like poor Francesca, but with a conception more pure, Catherine rings the changes on the words "amore," "amare." "Perocche, condizione e del' amore d' amare quando si sente amare, d' amare tutte le cose che ama colui ch' egli ama. E pero, a mano che l' anima ha conosciuto l' amore del suo Creatore verso di lui, l' ama: e amandolo, ama tutte quelle cose che Dio ama." "For it is of the nature of love, to love when it feels itself loved, and to love all things loved of its beloved. So when the soul has by degrees known the love of its Creator toward it, it loves Him, and, loving Him, loves all things whatsoever that God loves." ... As we read, we recognize once more how far is this great Mystic from the cold asceticism that has sometimes been attributed to her.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest brother in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood, with desire to see you constant and persevering in virtue; for it is not he who begins who is crowned, but only he who perseveres. For Perseverance is the Queen who is crowned; she stands between Fortitude and true Patience, but she alone receives a crown of glory. So I want you, dearest brother, to be constant and persevering in virtue, that you may receive the reward of your every labour. I hope in the great goodness of God that He will fortify you in such wise that neither demon nor fellow-creature can make you look back to your vomit.

You seem, according to what you write me, to have made a good beginning, in which I rejoice greatly for your salvation, seeing your holy desire. First, you say that you have forgiven every man who had wronged you or wished to wrong you. This is a thing which is very necessary, if you wish to have God in your soul through grace, and to be at rest even according to the world. For he who abides in hate is deprived of God and is in a state of condemnation, and has in this life the foretaste of hell; for he is always gnawing at himself, and hungers for vengeance, and abides in fear. Believing to slay his enemy, he has first killed himself, for he has slain his soul with the knife of hate. Such men as these, who think to slay their enemy, slay themselves. He who truly forgives through the love of Christ crucified, has peace and quiet, and suffers no perturbation; for the wrath that perturbs is slain in his soul, and God the Rewarder of every good gives him His grace and at the last eternal life. What joy the soul, then, receives, and gladness and rest in its conscience, the tongue could never tell. And even according to the world, very great honour is given to the man who through love of virtue and magnanimity does not greedily desire to wreak vengeance on his enemy. So I summon you and comfort you, to persevere in this holy resolution.

To demand and obtain your own in a reasonable way, this you can do with good conscience; whoever wants to can do it: for a man is not bound to abandon his possessions more than he chooses; but he who would choose to abandon them would reach a much greater perfection. It is well and excellent not to go to the Bishop's house nor to the palace, but to stay peaceably at home. For if other people get excited, we are weak, and often we find our own soul excited, and doing unjust and irrational things, one to show that he knows more than another, and one from appetite for money. Yes, it is better to keep away from the place.

But I add one thing: that when such poor men and women as are clearly in the right, and have no one to help them, show us the reason why they have no money, it would be greatly to the honour of God for you to undertake their cause, from the impulse of charity, like St. Ives, who in his time was the lawyer of the poor. Consider that the deed of pity, and ministering to the poor with those faculties which God has given you, is very pleasing to God, and salvation to your soul. Therefore St. Gregory says that it is impossible that a pitiful man should perish with an evil, that is, an eternal death. This, then, pleases me much, and I beg you to do it.

In all your works put God before your eyes, saying to yourself when intemperate appetite would lift its head against the resolution you have made: "Consider, my soul, that the eye of God is upon thee, and sees the secret of thy heart. Thou art mortal, for thou must die, and knowest not when; and it shall befit thee to render account before the highest Judge of what thou shalt do—a Judge who punishes every fault and rewards every good deed." In this wise, if you put on the bit it will not slip off, separating from the will of God.

You ought to give satisfaction to your soul as soon as you can, and unburden your conscience of what you feel it burdened with. Give it satisfaction, either for the trouble it has felt in giving up temporal possessions, or for the other annoyances that others have given it. And have pardon asked fully from everyone, in order that you may always remain in the joy of charity with your neighbour. As for selling the goods which you have over and above, and the showy garments (which are very harmful, dearest brother, and a means of penetrating the heart with vanity, and nourishing it with pride, since they make a man seem to be more and bigger than others, boasting of what one ought not to boast of; so it is great shame to us, false Christians, to see our Head tormented, and to abide ourselves in such luxuries: so St. Bernard says, that it is not fitting for limbs to be delicate beneath a thorn-crowned Head),—I say that you do very well to find a remedy for this. But clothe you as you need, modestly, at no immoderate price, and you will greatly please God. And, so far as you can, make your wife and your sons do the same; so that you may be to them example and teacher, as the father should be, who should educate his sons with the words and deeds of virtue.

I add one thing; that you abide in the state of marriage, with fear of God, and treat it with reverence as a sacrament, and not with intemperate desire. Hold in due reverence the days ordered by Holy Church, like a reasonable man, and not a brute beast. Then from yourself and her, like good trees, you will bring forth good fruits.

You will do very well to refuse offices; for a man seldom fails to give offence in them. It ought to weary you simply to hear them mentioned. Let the dead, then, bury themselves, and do you exert yourself, in liberty of heart, to please God, loving Him above everything in the desire of virtue, and your neighbour as yourself, fleeing the world and its delights. Renounce your sins and your own fleshly instincts, ever bringing back to memory the favours of God, and especially the favour of the Blood, shed for us with such fire of love.

Again, it is needful for you, if you wish your soul to preserve grace and grow in virtue, to make your holy confession often for your joy, that you may wash your soul's face in the Blood of Christ. At least once a month, since indeed we soil it every day. If more, more; but less it seems to me ought not to be done. And rejoice in hearing the Word of God. And when the season shall come that we are reconciled with our Father, do you communicate on the solemn Feasts, or at least once a year: rejoicing in the Office, and hearing Mass every day; and if you cannot every day, at least you must make an effort, just as far as you can, on the days which are ordered by Holy Church, to which we are bound.

Prayer must not be far from you. Nay, on the due and ordered hours, so far as you can, seek to withdraw a little, to know yourself, and the wrongs done to God, and the largess of His goodness, which has worked and is working so sweetly in you; opening the eye of your mind in the light of most holy faith, to behold how beyond measure God loves us; love which He shows us through the means of His only-begotten Son. And I beg that, if you are not saying it already, you should say every day the office of the Virgin, that she may be your refreshment and your advocate before God. As to ordering your life, I beg you to do it. Fast on Saturday, in reverence for Mary. And never give up the days commanded by Holy Church, unless of necessity. Avoid being at intemperate banquets, but live moderately, like a man who does not want to make a god of his belly. But take food for need, and not for the wretched pleasure it gives. For it is impossible that any man who does not govern himself in eating should keep himself innocent.

But I am sure that the infinite goodness of God, as regards this and all the rest, will make you yourself adopt that rule which will be needful for your salvation. And I will pray, and will make others pray, that He grant you perfect perseverance until death, and illumine you concerning that which you have to do for your salvation. I say no more to you. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you free from every particle of self-love, so that you may not lose the light and knowledge which come from seeing the unspeakable love which God has for you. And because it is light which makes us know this, and false love is what takes light from us, therefore I have very great desire to see it quenched in you. Oh, how dangerous this self-love is to our salvation! It deprives the soul of grace, for it takes from it the love of God and of its neighbour, which makes us live in grace. It deprives us of light, as we said, because it darkens the eye of the mind, and when the light is taken away we walk in darkness, and do not know what we need.

What do we need to know? The great goodness of God, and His unspeakable love toward us; the perverse law which always fights against the Spirit, and our own wretchedness. In this knowledge the soul begins to render His due to God; that is, glory and praise to His Name, loving Him above everything, and the neighbour as one's self, with eager desire for virtue; and the soul bestows hate and displeasure on itself, hating in itself vice, and its own sensuousness, which is the cause of every vice. The soul wins all virtue and grace in the knowledge of itself, abiding therein with light, as was said. Where shall the soul find the wealth of contrition for its sins, and the abundance of God's mercy? In this House of Self- Knowledge.

Now let us see whether we find it in ourselves or not. Let us talk somewhat about it. For, as you wrote me, you have a desire to feel contrition for your sins, and not being able to feel it, you give up for this reason Holy Communion. Now we shall see whether you ought to give it up for this.

You know that God is supremely good, and loved us before we were: and is Eternal Wisdom, and His Power in virtue is immeasurable: so for this reason we are sure that He has power, knowledge, and will to give us what we need. Well we see, in proof, that He gives us more than we know how to ask, and that which was not asked by us. Did we ever ask Him that He should create us reasonable creatures, in His own image and likeness, rather than brute beasts? No. Or that He should create us by Grace by the Blood of the Word, His only-begotten Son, or that He should give us Himself for food, perfect God and perfect Man, flesh and blood, body and soul, united to Deity? Beyond these most high gifts, which are so great, and show such fire of love toward us, that there is no heart so hard that its hardness and coldness would not melt by considering them at all: infinite are the gifts and graces which we receive from Him without asking.

Then, since He gives so much without our asking—how much the more will He fulfil our desires when we shall desire a just thing of Him? Nay, who makes us desire and ask it? Only He. Then, if He makes us ask it, it is a sign that He means to fulfil it, and give us what we seek.

But you will say to me: "I confess that He is what thou sayest. But how comes it that many a time I ask, both contrition and other things, and they seem not to be given me?" I answer you: It may be it is through a defect in him who asks, asking imprudently, with words alone and not with his whole heart—and of such as these Our Saviour said that they call Him Lord, Lord, but shall not be known of Him—not that He does not know them, but for their fault they shall not be known of His mercy. Or, the man who prays asks for something which, if he had it, would be injurious to his salvation. So that, when he does not have what he asks, he really has it, because he asks for it thinking that it would be for his good; but if he had it, it would be to his harm, and it is for his good not to have it; so God has satisfied the intention with which he asked it. So that on God's side we always have our prayer; but this is the case, that God knows the secret and the open, and is aware of our imperfection; so He sees that if He gave us the grace at once as we ask it, we should do like an unclean creature, who, rising from the sweetest honey, does not mind afterwards lighting on a fetid object. God sees that we do so many a time. For, receiving His graces and benefits, sharing the sweetness of His charity, we do not mind afterward alighting on miserable things, turning back to the filth of the world. Therefore, God sometimes does not give us what we ask as soon as we should like, to make us increase in the hunger of our desire, because He rejoices and pleases Himself in seeing the hunger of His creatures toward Him.

Sometimes He will do us the grace by giving it to us in effect though not in feeling. He uses this means with foresight, because He knows that if a man felt himself to possess it, either he would slacken the pull of desire, or would fall into presumption; therefore He withdraws the feeling, but not the grace. There are others who both receive and feel, according as it pleases the sweet goodness of our Physician to give to us sick folk; and He gives to everyone in the way that our sickness needs. You see, then, that in any case the yearning of the creature, with which it asks of God, is always fulfilled. Now we see what we ought to seek, and how prudently.

It seems to me that the Sweet Primal Truth teaches us what we ought to seek when in the holy Gospel, reproving man for the intemperate zeal which he bestows on gaining and holding the honours and riches of the world, He said: "Take no thought for the morrow. Its own care suffices for the day." Here He shows us that we should consider prudently the shortness of time. Then He adds: "Seek first the Kingdom of Heaven; for your heavenly Father knows well that you have need of these lesser things." What is this kingdom, and how is it sought? It is the kingdom of eternal life, and the kingdom of our own soul, for this kingdom of the soul, unless it is possessed through reason, never becomes part of the kingdom of God. With what is it sought? Not only with words—we have already said that such as these are not recognized by God—but with the yearning of true and real virtues. Virtue is what seeks and possesses this kingdom of heaven; virtue, which makes a man prudent, so that he works for the honour of God and the salvation of himself and his neighbour, with prudence and maturity. Prudently he endures his neighbour's faults; prudently he rules the impulse of charity, loving God above everything, and his neighbour as himself. This is the rule: that he hold him ready to give bodily life for the salvation of souls, and temporal goods to help the body of his neighbour. Such a rule is set by prudent charity. Were he imprudent, it would be just the opposite as with many who use a foolish and crazy sort of charity, who many a time, to help their neighbour—I speak not of his soul, but of his body—are ready to betray their own souls, by publishing abroad lies, giving false witness. Such men as these lose charity, because it is not built upon prudence.

We have seen that we must seek the kingdom of Heaven prudently: now I answer you about the attitude we should hold toward the Holy Communion, and how it befits us to take it. We should not use a foolish humility, as do secular men of the world. I say, it befits us to receive that sweet Sacrament, because it is the food of souls without which we cannot live in grace. Therefore no bond is so great that it cannot and must not be broken, that we may come to this sweet Sacrament. A man must do on his part as much as he can, and that is enough. How ought we to receive it? With the light of most holy faith, and with the mouth of holy desire. In the light of faith you shall contemplate all God and all Man in that Host. Then the impulse that follows the intellectual perception, receives with tender love and holy meditation on its sins and faults, whence it arrives at contrition, and considers the generosity of the immeasurable love of God, who in so great love has given Himself for our food. Because one does not seem to have that perfect contrition and disposition which he himself would wish, he must not therefore turn away; for goodwill alone is sufficient, and the disposition which on his part exists.

Again I say, that it befits us to receive as was imaged in the Old Testament, when it was commanded that the Lamb should be eaten roasted and not seethed; whole and not in part; girded and standing, staff in hand; and the blood of the Lamb should be placed on the stone of the threshold. Thus it befits us to receive this Sacrament: to eat it roasted, and not seethed; for were it seethed there would be interposed earth and water— that is, earthly affections and the water of self-love. Therefore it must be roasted, so that there shall be nothing between. We take it so when we receive it straight from the fire of divine charity. And we ought to be girt with the girdle of conscience, for it would be very shocking that one should advance to so great cleanliness and purity with mind or body unclean. We ought to stand upright, that is, our heart and mind should be wholly faithful and turned toward God; with the staff of the most holy Cross, where we find the teaching of Christ crucified. This is the staff on which we lean, which defends us from our foes, the world, the devil, and the flesh. And it befits us eat it whole and not in part: that is, in the light of faith, we should contemplate not only the Humanity in this sacrament, but the body and soul of Christ crucified, wrought into unity with Deity, all God and all Man. We must take the Blood of this Lamb and put it upon our forehead—that is, confess it to every rational being, and never deny it, for pain or for death. Thus sweetly it befits us to receive this Lamb, prepared in the fire of charity upon the wood of the Cross. Thus we shall be found signed with the seal of Tau, and shall never be struck by the avenging angel.

I said that it did not befit us, nor do I wish you, to do as many imprudent laymen, who pass over what is commanded them by Holy Church, saying: "I am not worthy of it." Thus they spend a long time in mortal sin without the food of their souls. Oh, foolish humility! Who does not see that thou art not worthy? At what time dost thou await worthiness? Do not await it; for thou wilt be just as worthy at the end as at the beginning. For with all our just deeds, we shall never be worthy of it. But God is He who is worthy, and makes us worthy with His worth. His worth grows never less. What ought we to do? Make us ready on our part, and observe His sweet commandment. For did we not do so, giving up communion, in such wise believing to flee from fault, we should fall into fault.

Therefore I conclude, and will that such folly be not in you; but that you make you ready, as a faithful Christian, to receive this Holy Communion as I said. You will do it just as perfectly as you are in true knowledge of yourself; not otherwise. For if you abide in that knowledge, you will see everything clearly. Do not slacken your holy desire, for pain or loss, or injury or ingratitude of those whom you have served; but manfully, with true and long perseverance you shall persevere till death. Thus I beg you to do by the love of Christ crucified. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.



TO THE ANZIANI AND CONSULS AND GONFALONIERI OF BOLOGNA

Catherine lays down admirable political principles, for the fourteenth or for the twentieth century. Yet times have changed, and we can hardly imagine a modern city council giving serious welcome to such a letter as this. It is a fair specimen of the letters which she was in the habit of sending to the governments of the Italian towns—direct, simple, high- minded presentations of the fundamental virtues on which the true prosperity of a State must rest. She was capable, as she showed during the Schism, of detailed political sagacity: but she never lost the womanly conviction that moral generalizations would convict men of sin and point them to the path of holiness. Nor was she wholly wrong. Her letters seem to have been received with respect, and not to have failed in effectiveness. On the present occasion, the authorities of Bologna have evidently sent asking her prayers. These she promises gladly, but adds that the Bolognese must not expect "the servants of God" to do all their work for them.

In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest brothers in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you divested of the old man and clothed with the new— divested, that is, of the world and the fleshly self-love which is the old sin of Adam, and clothed with the new Christ sweet Jesus, and His tender charity. When this charity is in the soul, it seeks not its own, but is liberal and generous to render His due to God: to love Him above everything else, and to hate its own lower nature; and to love itself for God, rendering praise and glory to His Name: to render its neighbour benevolence, with fraternal charity and well-ordered love. For charity ought to be regulated: that is, a man must not wrong himself by sinning, in order to rescue one soul—nay more, in order, were it possible, to save the whole world; since it is not lawful to commit the least fault to achieve a great virtue. And our body should not be sacrificed to rescue the body of our neighbour; but we ought surely to sacrifice our bodily life for the salvation of souls, and temporal possessions for the welfare and life of our neighbour. So you see that this charity should be and is regulated in the soul.

But those who are deprived of charity and full of self-love do just the opposite; and as they are extravagant in their affections, so they are in all their works. Thus we see that men of the world serve and love their neighbour without virtue, and in sin; and to serve and please them, they do not mind disserving and displeasing God, and injuring their own souls. This is that perverted love which often kills soul and body—robs us of light and casts us into darkness, robs us of life and condemns us to death, deprives us of the conversation of the Blessed and leads us to that of Hell. And if a man does not correct himself while he has time, he destroys the shining pearls of holy justice, and loses the warmth of true charity and obedience.

Now on whatever side we turn, we see every kind of rational creature lacking in all virtue, and arrayed in this evil fleshly self-love. If we turn to the prelates, they devote themselves so much to their own affairs and live so luxuriously, that they do not seem to care when they see their subjects in the hands of demons. As to the subjects, it is just the same, they do not care to obey either the civil law or the divine, nor do they care to serve one another unless for their own profit. And yet this kind of love, and the union of those who are united by natural love and not by true charity, does not suffice; such friendship suffices and lasts only so long as pleasure and enjoyment lasts, and the personal profit derived from it.

So, when a man is lord, he fails in holy justice. And this is the reason: that he fears to lose his dignity, and, so as not to excite annoyance, he goes about cloaking and hiding men's faults, spreading ointment over a wound at the time when it ought to be cauterized. Oh, miserable my soul! When the man ought to apply the flame of divine charity, and burn out the fault with holy punishment and correction inflicted by holy justice, he flatters and pretends that he does not see. He behaves thus toward those who he sees might impair his dignity; but as to the poor, who count for little and whom he does not fear, he shows very great zeal for justice, and without any mercy or pity imposes most severe punishment for a little fault. What causes such injustice? Self-love. But the wretched men of the world, because they are deprived of truth, do not recognize truth, either as regards their salvation or as regards the true preservation of their lordship. For did they know the truth, they would see that only living in the fear of God preserves their state and the city in peace: they would preserve holy justice, rendering his due to every subject, they would show mercy on whoso deserved mercy, not by passionate impulse, but by regard for truth; and justice they would show on whoso deserved it, built upon mercy, and not on passionate wrath. Nor would they judge by hearsay, but by holy and true justice; and they would heed the common good, and not any private good, and would appoint officials and those who are to rule the city, not by party or prejudice, not for flatteries or bribery, but with virtue and reason alone; and they would choose men mature and excellent, and not mere children—such as fear God and love the Commonwealth and not their own particular advantage. Now in this way, their state and the city is preserved in peace and unity. But unjust deeds, and living in cliques, and the appointment to rule and government of men who do not know how to rule themselves or their families—unjust and violent, passionate lovers of themselves—these are the methods that make them lose both the state of spiritual grace and their temporal state. To such as these it may be said: "In vain thou dost labour to guard thy city if God guard it not: if thou fear not God, and hold Him not before thee in thy works."

So you see, dearest brothers and lords, that self-love ruins the city of the soul, and ruins and overturns the cities of earth. I will that you know that nothing has so divided the world into every kind of people as self-love, from which injustice is for ever born.

Apparently, dearest brothers, you have a desire to increase and preserve the welfare of your city; and this desire moved you to write to me, poor wretch that I am, full of faults. I heard and saw that letter with tender love, and with wish to satisfy your desires, and to exert me, with what grace God shall give me, to offer you and your city before God with continual prayer. If you shall be just men, and carry on your government as I said above, not in passion nor for self-love or your private good, but for the universal good founded on the Rock Christ sweet Jesus, and if you do all your works in His fear, then by means of prayer you shall preserve the state, the peace and unity of your city. Therefore I beg you by the love of Christ crucified—for there is no other way—that since you have the help of the prayers of the servants of God, you should not fail on your side in what is needful. For did you fail you might to be sure be helped a little by the prayers, but not so much that it would not soon come to nothing; because you ought to help, on your part, to bear this weight.

So, considering that if you were clothed in fleshly and personal love, you could not help the servants of God, and that he who does not help himself with virtue and holy zeal for justice, cannot help his brothers' city, I say that it is needful for you to be clothed with the New Man, Christ sweet Jesus, and His immeasurable charity. But we cannot be clothed therein unless first we divest us—nor could I divest me unless I see how harmful it is to me to hold my old sin, and how useful the new garment of divine charity. For when man has seen his sin, he hates it, and strips it off; and loves, and in love arrays him in the garment of virtue woven with the love of the New Man. Now this is the Way. Therefore I said to you that I desired to see you divested of the old man and clothed with the New Man, Christ crucified; and in this way you shall win and keep the state of grace and the state of your city, and you will never fail in the reverence due to Holy Church, but with pleasing manner will render your due and keep your state. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.