Catharine of Siena: a biography

CAtMmMe

eJosEPMiiNE E.Butler

UCSB LIBKAKY

CATHARINE OF SIENA:

A BIOGRAPHY.

By JOSEPHINE E. BUTLER,

ACTHOK OF THE "MEMOIR OF JOHN GREV

OF dilston;" etc.

(Third Edition).

LONDON:

HORACE MARSHALL & SON,

TEMPLE HOUSE, TEMPLE AVENUE, & 125, FLEET STREET.

1894.

CHATHAM :

W. & J. Mackay & Co., "Observer" Works.

pc6tcatc6

TO

MY DEAR SONS,

LETTER FROM THE RT. HON. W. E. GLADSTONE.

When the first edition of "Catharine of Siena" appeared,
Mr. Gladstone wrote as follows to Canon Butler : —

" / received Mrs. Butler's kind gift yesterday morning and
spent some time in reading the first three chapters with intense
interest. It is evident that she is on the level of lier subject,
and it is a very high level. To say this is virtually saying all.
Her reply (by anticipation) to tlwse who scoff doum the visions
is, I think, admirable. It is interesting to divine the veins of
sympathy which may have guided Mrs. Butler in the choice
of Iter subject, o o o o

?Fith many thanks,

Most faithfully yours,

W. K Gladstone.
Haicarden,

October l^ih, 1878.

Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive

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PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION OF
"CATHARINE OF SIENA."

There have been more than forty lives written of Catharine
of Siena — in Latin, Italian, French, German, Dutch and
Spanish.

Until recently her life and character have been very little
known in England.

The principal chroniclers or historians who have been
consulted in the following record are : — Malavolti, " Historia
di Siena;" Tomad, "Historia di Siena;" Muraiori, "Annali
dTtalia;" Villani, "Istorie;" Machiavelli, " Istorie Fioren ; "
and Sismondi, " Histoire des Republiques Italiennes."

The most interesting details, however, of Catharine's
inner life and active labours are drawn from the " Acta
Sanctorum " and the annals kept by her friend, confessor,
and companion in labours, Raimondo of Capua.

It is desired, by the publication of a less expensive edition
of this book, which is continuously asked for, to place it
more within the reach of persons who have hitherto only
been able to obtain it from circulating libraries.

Catharine of Siena.

CHAPTER I.

In order to be able to realize with greater clearness the
character and career of the woman whom I desire to
make better known among us in England, it is desirable
to give some brief account of the principal events of
the time in which she lived, and on some of which she
exercised so great a moral influence.

Siena is situated in the undulating plains of Southern
Tuscany, south of Florence, and between the Apennines
and the sea.

This city is in many respects unique. The number of
its inhabitants was about^ 200,000 in the fourteenth cen-
tury, when it ranked as the rival of Florence among
the Italian Republics. Its population has slowly and
gradually diminished since that time, and the city has
not spread out one foot beyond its ancient walls. Its
streets are narrow and steep ; so steep in some cases
that no carriage can ascend them, and sometimes re-
sembling irregular stone staircases rather than streets.
It had originally thirty-nine gates, of which all but nine

^ Sismondi, " History of the Italian Republics."
B

2 - Cathaiine of Siena.

are now closed. The city stands on the top of a hill
of tertiary sandstone, and commands an extensive view.
The citadel stands apart on the summit of another hill of
the same range, with a small grassy valley dividing them.

The following sketch, written by an English lady in a
letter to a friend in the winter of 1877, may give some
idea to those who have not visited Siena of the scenery
around the city : —

"Leaving the long narrow winding streets, we passed
through one of the great gateways, and came direct out
into the open country, where there are no straggling
houses nor suburb of any kind. There is a wonderful
charm about this sudden transition. The town stands on
a hill, so that the country roads all lead up to its nine
gates. One could imagine oneself in Palestine, near the
' city set upon an hill,' with the outer slopes covered with
olive trees.

'* The graceful, tender landscape stretches far away be-
fore you ; hills crowned with ancient castles ; the soil of
a beautiful auburn or burnt-siena tint, and copses of
oak, still covered with their russet autumn leaves. We
went upon the ramparts of the citadel, upon which there
are paths with tender green grass. There was a splendid
winter sunset. Looking across the landscape, I could
count nine or ten beautiful undulating lines, each like
a horizon line, but always with one beyond it, and one
beyond that again, and each distinguished from the one
before it by showing fainter and fainter through a light
haze, till the scene ended at last in a pale line of
snow mountains. The shades were too delicate for any
painter to have caught, and the haze only veiled without

Aspect of the Country around Siena. 3

hiding the soft purples and mauves ; while the visions
of castles, convents, and campaniles varied and gave life
to the undulating lines of each ridge.

"This part of Tuscany is sometimes described by
travellers as desolate and bare ; but I confess that I love
the look of the country round Siena. There is something
tender and warm and homelike in it. Certainly one may
admire more the richer and grander features of other
parts of Italy, but this country attracts me more as
country to live in. One feels possessed by a wish to
explore it, to visit the villas and castles which crown the
tops of the low hills, to find out where every path leads
to, and to ride about the tempting roads, which are open,
with hedges studded with oaks as in England. The
landscape is probably more tender and dreamlike in winter
than in the glare of the summer light, when it appears
more flat and uniform, and when you do not see one range
of wave-like hills beyond another, as indicated by the lines
of haze in autumn or winter.

" Down at our feet, as we looked from the ramparts,
there were wooded valleys falling away from the city
walls, before rising again into the opposite ridges, and
close at our side was Siena itself, crowning the hill, all its
towers and walls bathed on one side with the red glow
of the winter sunset, and on the other in cobalt blue
shade. There were sweet winding lanes with the long
evening shadows cast across them, ascending the ridges,
and then often following along the backbones of the little
hills ; many old fortified houses with olive-yards and
cypresses around them, and sometimes even green lawns
with sheep feeding — an uncommon sight in Italy.

b2

4 Cathanne of Siena.

" The people appear to live scattered about the country
in single villas or castles, and not wedged into villages com-
posed of a crowded street of tall houses, as is so common in
Italy. These are signs of a very old-established civilization.

" Although the city itself is nothing in importance
compared with what it once was, it is not ruinous or
dilapidated. Everyone knows that it is in Siena that the
purest Italian is spoken. The people are very proud of
their fine old city and their past history. It offends them
to say that this or that is like Florence, for they consider
that Siena stands in the front rank among Italian cities.

" A little valley lies between the ancient city and a low
hill to the west, on which stands the great church of St.
Dominic. In this depression there was formerly the old
district inhabited by the poor people of Siena, and known
as the Contrada d'Oca. This was the birthplace of
Catharine. Her father's house still stands there, also
his workshop, and the chapel which was erected to her
memory, over the door of which are written in letters
of gold the words ' Spos* Christi Katharinse domus.' We
visited the house and cell of Catharine, and saw the rough,
stone on the floor, which they say served her as a pillow,
and the little lantern which she carried in her hospital
visits during the plague."

The American translator of Father Raymond's " Life
of St. Catharine " says : — *' When going from Rome to-
Siena, as one descends the rough declivities of the Radi-
cofani, the lines graduall}"- soften on the horizon, and
plantations of olive trees in graceful rows adorn the
hill sides. The valleys present a high state of cultiva-
tion and broad streamlets murmur beneath shady foliage.

Ilaly in the Fourteenth Century. 5

Chateaux of the middle ages, with farm-houses of pic-
turesque architecture, animate the landscape, and as one
advances on this road, festooned by luxuriant vines, nature
appears milder and more gay. One could fancy one heard
the distant strains of a concert, whose chords sound louder
as one approaches the city which presents little of the
agitation and feverish life of our modern cities. The
Italian language is more melodious here than elsewhere, and
the population offers types of a beauty distinctly its own."

Sismondi, in his " History of the Italian Republics,"
mentions the high estimation in which Catherine of Siena
was held throughout Italy, during and after her life.
In his history also we have a vivid picture of the troubles
of Italy during the period in which she lived.

The revival of Greek and Roman literature, the forma-
tion of the Italian language, and the creation of modern
poetry, the perfecting of jurisprudence, and the rapid
progress made in painting and sculpture, architecture and
music, are due in a great degree to the men of the
fourteenth century ; yet that period was far from being
a happy one for humanity. Many of the old-fashioned
virtues had disappeared, and revolting vices prevailed,
especially in the courts and palaces of princes, both lay
and ecclesiastical. Base intrigues were the order of the
day, and the only recognized means of earthly success.
The aristocracy set an example of every crime, and the
grossest debauchery reigned in their palaces and castles.
Poison and the knife were daily resorted to in the struggle
to hold their own against rivals. Troops of assassins were
retained in their pay, and a complete protection was
granted to brigands in return for the services they rcn-

6 Cathanne of Siena.

dered their lordly employers. Magistrates were corrupt,
and justice sold. Princes derived revenue out of the pun-
ishment of criminals. Confessions were exlorted by the
rack from suspected persons, and criminals were punishe<i
with indescribable torture. In politics, frequent treachery
destroyed all confidence in treaties and all friendly security
among citizens. In war, foreign mercenaries sold them-
selves to him who paid the highest, and in their marches
ruthlessly outraged the innocent inhabitants of the country,
and ruined their agriculture. The contempt in which
princes and nobles held all law and morality had an
influence all the more pervading, because in every city
of Italy at that time there reigned a little court, and this
little court was for the citizens of each city a school of
vice and crime. The several Republics of Italy were at
continual war with the great dukes and princes who lived
around or in the midst of them, and who, strong in the
traditions of their former absolute and despotic sove-
reignty, looked with an evil eye on the independent
spirit of the Eepublics. This independent spirit mani-
fested itself in constantly renewed struggles to cast off the
yoke, first of one tyrant, and then of another ; at one time
of some aggressive noble, at another of a foreign invader ;
now of the insolent emissaries of the Pope, claiming with
the sword and excommunication the restoration of the
revolted temporal estates of the Church, and now of an
arrogant oligarchy in their midst, developed from the
elected rulers of the people themselves.

No sight could have been more sad, more indecent, it
may be said, for a Christian soul to contemplate than the
sight which the Christian Church then presented in the

Italy in the Fourteenth Century. 7

persons of its prominent representatives. It was that of a '
worldly, greedy, grasping power, a power which had lost its
influence for good over the conscience of Christendom, and
had thrown itself into the fierce conflict of arms and of intri-
gue with all who disputed its claims to a despotic material
sovereignty. The Pope Clement V. had removed the seat of
the Papacy to Avignon, in 1305. Six popes after him con-
tinued to live in this voluntary exile, far from their duties
and their people. They purchased from Joanna, Queen of
Naples and Countess of Provence, the sovereignty of Avig-
non, with vast surrounding estates in that fair and sunny
province of southern France. There they established
themselves as though they never meant to return. Mag-
nificent palaces and castles were built by them. The
College of Cardinals came to be almost entirely com-
posed of Frenchmen. Urban V. and Gregory XL werel
French, and strongly attached to their native land. Thai
French king used all his influence to retain the Papal
Court in his kingdom, and the prelates were only too
ready to yield to this influence, preferring a residence
among a people in whom no restless desire of liberty or
turbulent spirit of reform disturbed their tranquillity, or
interrupted the gay and easy tenour of the Court life of
Avignon. This period was compared by Italian writers
to the Babylonish captivity. The voluntary exile of the
Pope, and his neglect of the interests of his subjects, had
a most melancholy influence upon the faith, the morals and
the politics of the Church. The corruption of the prelates,
the dishonourable and scandalous lives of the young car-
dinals, and the universal licence of the city were so notorious
to all Europe that Avignon received the name of the

8 Catharine of Siena.

Western Babj'lon.i This epithet is found in the bitter
invectives of Petrarch, and in the writings of all the most
religious men of that time. Avignon gathered to itself
the scum of the French and Italian populations, and
intriguers and adventurers of all nations flocked thither.
" The morals of Avignon," it was said, " are what are called
vices in other nations." In the preceding century the Court
of Eome had been sufficiently ambitious, avaricious, and
dissimulating; but during its^establishment at Avignon it
became more and more venal and perfidious in its adminis-
tration, while the Italians marked with disgust its ever-
increasing servility to the Court of France.^ The Sovereign
Pontiff gradually lost the affections of the Italian people.
He treated Italy as a mere dependency, making over the
management of the estates of the Church to agents who
became a plague and a curse to the people. These agents
were the infamous Cardinal Legates, whose rapacity and
cruelty exceeded even those of the ambitious families under
whom Italy already had suffered more than she could bear.
The conduct of these Legates continually brought the
Papacy into worse and worse repute among the Italians.
Lnder the plea of gathering in the revenue of the Church,
they plundered the people, and, to enrich themselves, cheated
the absent Pontiff of that which he too often exacted with
harshness and injustice.

Another grief which pressed heavily on Italy at that
time was the presence of the hosts of foreign mercenary
troops to which I have already referred. These troops
were chiefly composed of English and Bretons, who had

^ Sismondi's "Italian Republics," Vol. vii. ^ Ibid.

lUdij in the Fourteenth Century. 9

taken part in the long war between England and France,
and who had been driven from their own countries as de-
moralized military refuse, and unfit to return to the duties
of citizenship. There were also Germans, and malcontents
of all countries, who travelled over the Alps to sell their
services to piinces or republics to whom the offer of their
alliance was itself a calamity j^ for, after a victory won
by their aid, those who had themselves accepted these
dangerous auxiliaries found themselves vanquished in their
turn. It was impossible to get rid of these mercenaries ; they
remained, and lived at the expense of the country ; they
sometimes retired to the strong castles of the Apennines,
whence they periodically emerged, swooping down like birds
of prey upon the country populations, pillaging and ravaging
and carrying terror Avherever they appeared. The fierce
English brigand, John Hawkwood, led an immense English
and Breton troop into Italy. He sold himself and his
followers first to the Pope and afterwards to the Florentine
Republic ; performing, in the interval, some well-paid
services for the Visconti and other fighting princes. He
became the chief of that great "school of Italian condot-
tieri" which warred in Italy for two centuries. His troops
were accustomed to encamp disbanded and without order ;
they always fought on foot, carrying great lances such as
were used in boar hunting, and advanced on the enemy in
closely seried ranks, howling in their uncouth foreign
tongues, the harsh sound of which was most terrible to the
Italians. Catharine of Siena was several times stopped on
her journeys and missions with her companions by the sound

' " Economie Politique du Moyen Age."

10 Catharine of Siena.

of the approach of these dreaded brigands. Tliis happened
on her journey to Florence, where she had been invited
to act as a pacificator between that Eepublic and the
Pope ; she was obliged to turn out of her path till the
danger had passed. One of her most eloquent letters is
addressed to John Hawkwood (or Giovanni Augud as the
Italian chroniclers write him). Hawkwood was, however,
outdone in cruelty by the Papal Legate whom he served
at the destruction and massacre of Cesena and Faenza, in
1377. Several of the northern ItaHan cities had entered
into a league against the Pope, and for the defence of
their liberties. The Pope sent his Legate, Cardinal Robert
of Geneva, with an army to break up this league, if possible.
Cardinal Eobert drove a hard bargain with Hawkwood for
his services in this campaign, and commenced proceedings
hy endeavouring to detach Bologna from the league. He
promised the Bolognese " the pardon of their faults if they
would acknowledge the sovereignty of the Church and of
the Pope's ministers." The Bolognese replied : " We are
ready to suffer all things rather than again to submit our-
selves to the rulers whose luxury, insolence, and avarice
we have so cruelly experienced." Cardinal Robert, on
receiving this reply from the ambassadors of Bologna, sent
back word : " Tell them that I shall not leave Bologna
till I have washed my hands and my feet in their blood."
The Legate's actions were worthy of his threat ; he slew,
burnt, and plundered. The summer being past, he found
himself in need of winter quarters, and obliged the city of
Cesena, which had not revolted or joined the league, to
receive his troops. His barbarous soldiers, incapable of
discipline, began to treat this city as one which they had

The Massacre of Cesena. 11

taken in battle, forcing open the houses, robbing property,
and carrying off the daughters of the citizens for outrage
and captivity. The inhabitants endured patiently for
several weeks, but on the night of February 1, 1377, they
made a sudden attack upon the mercenaries, and drove
them out of the city. Cardinal Robert, on receiving this
news, sent a deceitful message to the people of Cesena,
confessing that his soldiers had deserved this punishment,
and promising a complete amnesty on condition that they
would again open their gates to him. They opened their
gates ; and the perfidious Cardinal entering, ordered a
universal massacre. He sent for Hawkwood, who was
at that moment doing the Cardinal's work at Faenza.
Hawkwood hesitated for a moment to execute this horrible
deed ; the Cardinal, persuading, taunting, and bribing,
urged him on to the massacre, crying out, " I want blood,
blood, blood ! " None were spared, neither the aged nor
the young ; mothers, maidens, and infants at the breast
were murdered and flung in heaps in the streets. From
morning till night the slaughter continued. The Cardinal
stood all day as the presiding genius of the scene, a crucifix
held aloft in one hand, and a sword in the other, reiterat-
ing, " Kill them, kill them ! all, all ! " and resting not until
the last of the five thousand of the peaceful inhabitants of
Cesena was slain. This Cardinal Robert was the man who
was afterwards, in 1378, elected Pope as Clement VII., the
rival of Urban VI.

It was Catharine the wool-dyer's daughter who first
dared to address to the Pope at Avignon letters full of
severe truth, setting forth to him the miseries of his
Italian subjects, the evils of his non-residence, and the

12 Catharine of Siena.

gross cruelty of his unworthy legates ; it was she who pre-
vailed in her endeavour to bring back the Sovereign Pontiff"
to his country, and to awaken him to a sense of his respon-
sibilities towards his torn and distracted flock.

"Catharine of Siena," says her biographer Eaymond,
" was to the fourteenth century what St. Bernard was to
the twelfth, that is, the light and support of the Church.
At the moment when the bark of St. Peter was most
strongly agitated by the tempest, God gave it for pilot a
poor young girl who was concealing herself in the little shop
of a dyer. Catharine travelled to France to lead the Pontiff
Gregory XI. away from the delights of his native land ; she
brought back the Popes to Kome, the real centre of Chris-
tianity. She addressed herself to cardinals, princes, and
kings. Her zeal inflamed at the sight of the disorders
which prevailed in the Church, she exerted all her activity
in order to overcome them ; she negotiated between the
nations and the Holy See; she brought back to God a
multitude of souls, and communicated, by her teaching and
example, a new vitality to those great religious orders which
were the life and pulse of the Church." " When she entered
the world (after years spent in prayer and fasting), it was
to preach to infuriated mobs, to toil among plague-stricken
men, to execute diplomatic negotiations, to harangue the
Republic of Florence, to correspond with queens, and to
interfere between kings and popes. . . . It is well
known how, by the power of her eloquence and the
ardour of her piet}', she succeeded as a mediator between
Florence and her native city, and between Florence and
the Pope ; that she travelled to Avignon and induced
Gregory XI. to return to Rome, that she narrowly

The Corruptions of the Church. 13"

escaped political martyrdom during one of her embassies
from Gregory to the Florentine Republic, that she preached
a crusade against the Turks, and that she aided by her
dying words to keep Pope Urban VI. on the papal
throne."^ We shall see how, like St. Francis, St. Bernard,
and Savonarola, Catharine, though a devoted daughter of
the Church, became its faithful and fearless monitoi-, and a
prophet to it of warning and rebuke. Appalled by the
knowledge which she rapidly attained of the hollowness,
hypocris}', and abominable vices which prevailed among
the clergy of all ranks, she shrunk not from open denun-
ciation of their evil deeds ; she rebuked the evil-doers,^
whether princes, cardinals, or the " Holy Father " him-
self, with the severity of one who has a commission from
Heaven, and with the passionate pleading and tenderness
of a woman whose soul is filled with Christian love and
pity for her kind. The Eoman Church had not yet filled
up the measure of her sins; the time had not yet come for
the grand defection from her ranks of the bold spirits of a
Luther and a Calvin. But through all the centuries, fronx
the time when the supreme bishops of Eome ceased to be
what they were in the earliest period — saints and martyrs^
men of virtue and of humble piety — there never was
wanting a succession of prophets, who rose up one by
one, to repudiate in the name of Christ and in the face
of the world, the corruptions, follies, and crimes com
mitted in the name and by the authority of the professed
ministers of Christ's religion, the ecclesiastical rulers who-
had become, in fact, the ministers of injustice and op-

^ " Siena and St. Catharine," by J. Symonds.

14 Catharine of Siena.

pression. That the spiritual life was not extinct, however,
in those corrupt times, and that pure teaching and a Christ-
like life were recognized and ardently loved far and wide
by the nations, is proved by the ascendency which these
prophet-like beings (and none more than Catharine) gained
over the affections of the people, by the reverence and awe
which they inspired even in the worldly courts of princes,
by the fact that even the pride of haughty ecclesiastics
bowed before them, by the recognition given to them by
the Church herself, and by the loving devotion with which
their names and memories continued to be cherished long
after their death.

While Italy was thus shaken by the moral and political
■disorders above described, a terrible scourge visited her, in
common with the other nations of Europe. The plague,
which appeared in 1348, and again in 1361 and 1374, has
been described by Boccaccio and other writers. A suc-
cession of extraordinarily rainy seasons was succeeded by
famine in 1345 and 1347. The plague followed. Terror
seized the inhabitants of every town and village where the
first symptoms of the disease appeared ; the contagion
spread with unheard-of rapidity ; even to converse with one
smitten was often fatal, -wathout touching him ; men and
women, and even cattle, fell dead in the streets; nature's
wild scavengers, the wolf and the vulture, would not come
near the tainted dead ; large ditches were prepared, into
which the bodies were hurled, so long as anyone could be
found to convey them thither. The utmost of human
egotism and selfishness were manifested side by side with
noble examples of courage and devotion. An impression pre-
vailed that sadness or lowness of spirits predisposed persons

TJie Plague in Italy. 15

to take the disease, and consequently wild laughter and jest-
ing, gambling and revelling, were heard and seen in the midst
of dying agonies and hurried funeral obsequies ; all business
was neglected, and the population seemed like a vast crowd
awaiting certain death, in very various and strongly con-
trasted attitudes of mind. In Florence three out of every
five persons died, as affirmed by Boccaccio. At Siena, in
the months of May, June, July, and August, 1348, the
plague carried off 30,000 persons. In the later visitations
of this scourge, Catharine appears as the guardian angel of
her own city, and the devoted helper of the stricken and
dying, forsaken often by their nearest relatives. So great
was the terror of the nobles at the first sight of the second
approach of the dreaded scourge, that many of them fled to
the mountains and forests. The famous Bernabos Visconti,
the powerful Duke of Milan, unable to pursue his favourite
occupation of war, the plague having sounded a truce for a
season to the fratricidal shedding of blood, betook himself
to desperate hunting. " In the pursuit of this amusement,
he contrived to perpetrate infinite cruelties, a task, by-
the-bye, to him always familiar. Under pain of death,
he forbade anyone to slay a hare, a wild hog, or any
other game ; and this wicked law he scrupulously carried
out, applying it even to those who within four years pre-
viously had either killed or eaten of the game. He
kept 5.000 hunting dogs, which he caused to be dis
tributed among the country people, who had orders to
feed them well, and to bring them once a month to be
reviewed in a certain place. Woe to him whose charge
was found to be lean or out of condition ! Still greater
woe to him who had lost a dog by death ! These were

16 Cathaiine of Siena.

punished by the confiscation of all their goods, by torture
and other penalties. More feared were the dog-keepers of
Bernabos than the princes of the earth. At the sight and
sound of these and other tyrannies of this inhuman prince
everyone trembled, and no one dared to whisper. Two
friars ventured one day to expostulate with him, and he
immediately had them burnt to death." ^ The excitement
of the chase prevailed for a time to quiet his fears, but
the reports of a tyranny more irresistible than his own
pursued Bernabos. Even while following the wolves of the
Apennines with his well-fed hounds in full cry, he would
come suddenly upon an untenanted hut, in which, on
entering with some imperious demand, he would find the
blackened corpse of the owner slain by the plague. Villani
and Muratori both speak of the extraordinary terror of
Bernabos when he realized that death was at his heels
Sismondi records that " so great was the fright of the Prince
Bernabos Visconti that he shut himself into his castle of
Marignano ; and, determined that no one should come near
him, he gave orders to the bell-ringer on his watch-tower to
sound the bell the moment he saw anyone enter the territory
around the castle. One day Bernabos perceived some
gentlemen afar off approaching on the road from Milan, and
yet no warning bell had sounded. Indignant, he gave the
order to punish the bell-ringer for his negligence by pitching
him headlong from his own bell-tower : his servants hastened
up the tower to execute the order, and found the bell-
ringer, dead of the plague, beside his bell. The fright
of Bernabos was intensified by this circumstance ; he fled

* Muratori.

Great Pilgrimage tti Rome. 17

further, to a hunting-tower which he possessed in the
middle of wild forests, surrounding himself with a barri-
cade at a mile's distance from the tower, on which barricade
he caused to be placed a number of notices, threatening
with instant death anyone who dared to cross that barrier.
He survived the plague. At the same time, Catharine,
full of faith in God, was passing incessantly, night and day,
through the streets and hospitals of Siena, and comforting
with peaceful words, and kindly, smiling face the terror-
stricken and the dying. She also survived the plague. la
the one we see the triumph of selfishness, in the other the-
triumph of faith.

In several of the nations of Europe a strong religious'
awakening succeeded the devastations of the plague.
Multitudes of people humbled themselves before God,,
seeking to learn wisdom from the chastisement which he-
had suffered to visit the earth. This penitent desire for
reconciliation with God found expression in the under-
taking of a vast pilgrimage to Eome, in order to receive
there the pardon and blessing which the Pope had offered
to all who should undertake this pilgrimage.

In the winter and spring of 1350 a ceaseless stream of
pilgrims poured iiito Italy from all parts of Europe. They
bore with unmurmuring patience the rigours of a very
severe season, toiling on through ice and snow, piercing
blasts, and violent rains, which had destroyed many of the
roads. All the inns and other houses on or near the high-
ways being crowded by the first bands of pilgrims which
arrived, others — chiefly those from Germany and Hungary
— were compelled to camp out at night in large companies
on the highways.. Thoy lit fires in the open air, and sat

C

18 Catharine of Siena.

closely crowded together, the better to resist the cold.
Historians of the time declare that these pious wanderers,
conscience-stricken, humble, and fervently desiring salva-
tion, set an example of Christian virtue to all. No disputes
or divisions arose among them, nor were they ever heard
to murmur at the hardships they endured. The inn-
keepers of the hostels where they crowded, unable to
check any dishonesty or even to receive the payment due
from each, owing to their great numbers, gave up the
attempt ; but never, it was said, was any pilgrim seen to
depart without leaving on the table the money which he
owed for his food. They sang litanies and hymns, offered up
daily prayers on the road, without ostentation, yet with a
humble disregard of any scorn or opposition they met with.
In general their conduct inspired with awe and reverence
the people of the country through which they passed.
Several millions of penitents thus made the journey to
Rome without any disorders or scandal arising in the
midst of the vast multitude.^

Such were some of the events of the age and country in
which Catharine of Siena lived and laboured.

1 Villaui, Vol. i., Chap. Ivi.

CHAPTER II.

GlACOMO Benincasa, the father of Catharine, was a dyer ;
his occupation was chiefly the preparation of colours era-
ployed in dyeing wool; hence his surname of Fullone, or
dyer, and hence the name generally given to his and
Catharine's abode, " The FuUonica." This house was
situated, as I have said, in the humble quarter of the
common people, in the Contrada d'Oca. His wife Lapa
was simple, strong, and virtuous ; Giacomo himself being,
according to the testimony of all the contemporary bio-
graphers of Catharine, a loyal man, fearing God, and
separated from every vice.

There was, without doubt, a decline throughout Italy
of the stern virtues and simplicity of life of the previous
century; yet in some cities, and pre-eminently in Siena,
these stern traditions lingered on for several centuries,
and at the time of which I write there were many families
of the Italian Republics who maintained the primitive purity
of their ancestors, and continued to worship God with the
same honesty of conviction. Dante describes the simple
life of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in the words
which he places in the mouth of Cacciaguida, his ancestor : —

02

20 Catharine of Siena.

"I saw Bellincion Bertiwalk abroad
With leather girdle and a clasp of bone ;
And with no artful colour on her cheeks
His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw
Of Nerli and of Vecchio, well content
With unrobed jerkin ; and their good dames handling
The spindle and the flax. Oh ! happy they ! . . .
In such composed and simple fellowship,
Such faithful and such fair equality,
In such sweet household, Mary at my birth
Bestowed me."

Villani, the historian of Italy, observes that in the
thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century the
Italian republicans lived soberly, on coarse viands and at
little cost. " The men and women dressed in coarse cloths ;
many wore plain leather, and the Tuscan women were with-
out ornament. Their manners were simple, and in many
customs and courtesies of life they were rude and un-
polished; but they were of good faith and loyal both among
themselves and to the State, and with their coarse way of
living and poverty they did greater and more virtuous deeds
than have been done in our times and with greater refine-
ment and wealth. "1 The virile character of the people of
Siena was celebrated by Boccaccio and other contemporaries
of Catharine. Nicholas Tommaseo of Milan, who wiote in
1860 on "The Spirit and the Works of St. Catharine,"
remarks on the strong and manly character of her mind :
" This citizen of an august Republic," he says, " was born
in the midst of a turbulent, restless, and warlike people,
a people nourished in severe customs, and who, whatever
their faults, were in no sense enervated or feeble." Accord-

^ Villani, Book vi., Chap. Ixxi.

IVie Family of Catharine. 21

ing to Sismondi, the Sienese were esteemed the proudest of
all the Italian people. The parents of Catharine manifestly
belonged to the generation then passing away ; they were
simple, virtuous, and inured to hardship and eflfort. Al-
though of a humble class in life ihoy won for themselves
a certain position among their fellow-citizens. Lapa de-
scribed the character of her husband to one of the con-
temporaries of Cathaiine in the following words : " He was
so mild and moderate in his words that he never gave way
to anger, although he had many occasions for doing so ; and
on seeing any of his household excited or vexed he would
calm them by saying, 'Now, now, do not say anything
which is not just or kind, and God will give you Hs bles-
sing. He was greatly injured on one occasion by a fellow-
citizen who had robbed him of money and who employed
falsehood and calumny in order to ruin his character and
the business he carried on. He never would hear his
enemy spoken of harshly, and when I, thinking no harm
of it, used to express my anger against my husband's
detractor, he would say, ' Let him alone, dear, let him
alone, and God will bless you. God will show him his
error, and will be our defence.' This soon came true, for
our enemy acknowledged openly his error." The neigh-
bours of Giacomo also testified to his uprightness and virtue.
He was pure and reserved in his speech ; consequently
his family grew up sensitive to any coarseness or unseemli-
ness in conversation. One of his daughters, Bonaventura,
married a young man of Siena who sometimes received
in his house foolish and vain companions. Bonaventura
became so depressed by the tone of the conversation around
her that she fell ill. Her husband inquiring the cause

22 Cathaiine of Siena.

of her illness, she replied, " I have never been accustomed
to hear in the house of my father language such as I hear
in yours. My education has been widely different, and I
assure you that if such conversation continues around me
it will be the cause of my death." Her reply inspired her
husband with great respect for her and her family. He
forbade his guests to speak one word in his house which
could displease her. They obeyed, and thus the good
government in the family of Giacomo rebuked the licence
in the house of his son-in-law.

Giacomo and Lapa had twenty-five children ; Catharine
was one of two delicate little twins born in 1347. Little
Jane, the twin sister of Catharine, died in a few days.
" She winged her way to heaven," leaving Catharine on
earth to become the mother of many souls. The stories
told of our little saint to Raymond, her biographer, by
admiring friends and neighbours of the Benincasa family,
are full of naivete and grace, and abound in miraculous
incidents which I shall pass over very briefly. Beyond all
doubt the child was the darling of her neighbourhood from
her earliest infancy, as she was the beloved of her country
in her later years.

As soon as she could walk, we are told, she contracted
a habit of wandering from home ; a habit which developed
in her maturer age, and which became the subject of
many outward criticisms and of some inward question-
ings of her own heart. The little vagrant was so beloved,
and her childish prattle was "so discreet and so full of
grace," that her mother with difficulty kept her at home,
and sometiriies took alarm when the repeated announce-
ment was made in the large family, that "The baby is

Her Childhood. 23

lost again." Before she could even speak plainly, we are
assured that " the people of the Contrada d'Oca found such
consolation and sweetness in her society that she received
the name of Euphrosyne, which means joy or satisfaction."
" As soon as one conversed with her," says Raymond,
"sadness was dispelled from the heart, vexations and
troubles were forgotten, and a ravishing peace took posses-
sion of the soul." Her smile, of which we hear so often
throughout her life, was so bright and sweet that it " took
souls captive." She smiled with her eyes as well as her
lips, and her friends speak of an " ineffable joy which shone
in her eyes." She possessed all her life a frankness of
manner which disarmed all prejudice and dispelled resen^es
and fears : her nature was open and joyous, and her spirit
truthful and clear as the day. She loved every living
thing. Nature, beasts, birds, and flowers were very dear
to her. Every man, woman, and child was to her a friend,
a dear fellow-creature to be greeted without reserve, to be
comforted, consoled, congratulated, pleaded with or gently
rebuked as one beloved of the common Father, and
redeemed by the precious blood of Christ.

She began early to have her little visions of celestial
glory, and even some premonitions of the career to which
she was to be called. The old church of St. Dominic in
Siena stands, as I have said, on the summit of a little
hill or rising ground separated by a pleasant little valley
from the quarter in which Catharine's family resided.
This valley so often traversed by her, and this venerable
church with its adjacent monastery, were spots familiar
and dear to her heart. We shall have to people them in
imagination by-and-by with the most intimate friends

'24 CatJuirine of Siena.

of Cathariile, the devoted friar preachers of St. Dominic,
and the sisters of the Militia of Jesus Christ, who shared
her active life and accompanied her in many of her mis-
sions. The chapel by the side of the church was one of
her favourite resorts for prayer : it was there that she spent
long hours in ecstatic communion with her Lord ; and in
the nave and on the steps of the great church she daily en-
countered the radiant faces of her brethren and sisters in
the faith, and held sweet converse with them. The bell-
tower of the church can be seen from the wool- dyer's house
in the Contrada d'Oca, and its matin and vesper bells sound
clear across the little valley. When Catharine was six years
old, her mother sent her with her little brother Stephen to
take a message to the house of their sister Bonaventura :
their errand being accomplished, the children were about to
return by the valley, when Catharine, looking up to the
golden clouds of evening, saw over the gable end of the
church of the Friar Preachers, a vision of Jesus, very glori-
ously apparelled, and terrible in majesty and beauty. As
she gazed in awe, the Saviour, she said, looked towards her
and smiled lovingly upon her, extending his hand in bless-
ing. While she was lost in the contemplation of this vision,
her little brother continued to descend the hill, imagining
that she was following : turning round, he saw his sister
far off, looking up to heaven ; he called to her as loud as he
could call, but she made no answer ; at length he ran back
to her and took her by the hand, saying, " Come on, why
are you stopping here 1 " Catharine appeared to awake
from a deep sleep, and bursting into loud weeping, she
replied, " 0 Stephen, if you could only see what I see,
you would never have disturbed me thus ! " and her eyes

Adventures of Tier ChUdhood. "23

again turned towards heaA'en, T)ut the vision had vanished',
to Catharine's great grief, who turned homewards weeping.
From this moment she Avas observed to become graver and
•more thoughtful than before.

She had lieard many recitals of the lives of the Fathers
of the Desert, and about a year after this incident she con-
ceived a strong desire to imitate them. In this she was not
lingular: it is not uncommon to find children in modern
as well as early times, possessed with a romantic idea of
pilgrimage, or retirement to the desert. St. Theresa of
Spain read with her little brother, when she was a child,
the lives of martyrs and hermits. " They determined to be
martyrs, they would go to the nearest Moorish kingdom,
(Wherc as soon as they arrived, their heads would be cut
oflF; and without asking leave, or saying a word to any-
one, they started, and had crossed the bridge out of the
town, when an uncle encountered them and took them
home. The martyrdom project coming to an end, they
thought of turning hermits, and built themselves cells in
the garden ; but here their mechanics failed them ; the
roofs fell in, and they lost heart." i And some of ourselves
have known children who, after reading the " Pilgrim's
Progress," have hopefully started in search of the land of
Beulah and the heavenly City, and after having lost their
shoes and been covered with mud in some wayside bog
which they would gladly have believed was the veritable
Slough of Despond, with the wicket gate and its angel*
porter beyond, have returned home, draggled and weary,
to the mother's fireside. Little Catharine was so fired

^ ' ' Santa Teresa, 9. Psychological Study. " J. A. Froude.

26 Cathanne of Siena.

with the desire to imitate the Fathers of the Desert, that
she frequently ran away to short distances from home to
hide in some retired spot, where, however, her solitary
musings were often rudely or comically broken in upon.
One morning, in spite of past disappointments, she set
out very early in search of the desert. She believed the
ravens would kindly bring her food, yet the little woman
was prudent and practical enough to provide herself with
a loaf of bread to last over the first day, until she should
ascertain more certainly what the conduct of the ravens
was to be. Gliding through the gates for the first time
in her life, she left the city behind her, and crossed a
valley towards a range of little hills beyond. There she
saw that the houses were more distant one from another,
and thought that she was certainly now approaching the
desert. She found a little grotto under a shelving rock,
crept in, and with great joy set herself to pray and medi-
tate. She remained there till the evening, when suddenly
'* God revealed to her that he designed for her another
mode of life, and that she must not leave the house of
her father." ^ On leaving her grotto, she became anxious
on seeing the evening far advanced, and afraid, not of the
anger, but on account of the anxiety of her parents.
" They will think I am lost, and how sorry they will be ! "
she said, and the active, swift-footed little girl flew as
fast as her feet would carry her, and never paused till she
reached her father's house. The gossips said that she
was carried by angels, or miraculously transported with-
out once touching the ground, so rapid was her return.

^ Raymond of Capua, " Life of St Catharine."

Her Parents loish Jier to Marry. 27

Grood sense and affection never failed to correct in her any
tendency to exaggeration or to egotistical forms of piety.

The desire to be allowed to preach arose very early in her
mind. IShe dreamed that she was changed to a man and
received the ordination of St. Dominic, and sighed on
awaking to find herself still a girl. She used to collect
around her in the little valley an assembly of little girls of
her own age, and preach to them with " wonderful eloquence
and power." She gained so much the hearts and imagina-
tions of these little girls, that many of them imitated in
their degree her manner of life, and continued to be her
friends and fellow-workers when they grew up.

A-t twelve years of age her parents and brothers began
to talk of marriage for Catharine. Her father was par-
ticularly anxious about her future, and could not be per-
suaded that anyone of his acquaintance was worthy of
such a child, ignorant as he was of the choice she had
already made of a union far above all human alliances.
Lapa took great pains in dressing and adorning her in-
teresting daughter, caused her to deck her hair with
graceful kerchiefs and pins, and "to ornament her neck
and arms in a manner calculated to please such as might
ask her hand in marriage."

Catharine had other thoughts ; her absence of mind
and little regard for even such innocent display as her
mother's pride in her suggested, perplexed her parents.
Lapa called in the aid of Bonaventura, a sister to
whom Catharine was much attached. Bonaventura's
little manoeuvres Avere for a time successful. Catharine
swerved for a brief moment from the straight and diffi-
cult path which she had set herself to pursue, but her

28 CvUliarine of Siena.

countenance became sad, her manner nervous, and she
often fled suddenly from any company in which she found
herself. Her secret determination to devote herself wholly
in the unmarried state to the service of God and man was
never, however, given up, and the "life angelical" con-
tinually attracted her in the midst of the pleasures of earth,
in which her heart found no rest. Her habit of prayer,
however, had abated, and her spiritual life was in danger of
being extinguished. At this time Bonaventura, still young,
loving, and beloved, died in giving birth to a child.
Catharine's grief was bitter ; this blow revealed to her the
vanity of all earthly things, and she consecrated herself
afresh to a life of prayer and holy service. The desire of
her parents that she should marry was now, however, more
openly expressed, and a young man of highly honourable
character and family was introduced to her as desiring her
hand in marriage. She continued a friendly but gentle
resistance. This brought upon her a species of domestic
persecution which tested her courage and strength of
character. Her biographers, in their devout desire to heap
honour upon the head of the saint, exaggerated, it seems to
me, the unkindness of her parents. Their sternness was,
perhaps, even not unwise ; for many a young girl in those
<lays, captivated by the thoughts of a life of consecration,
would turn a longing eye towards the monastery, and at the
first severe trial would waver in her resolution, or having
taken the irreparable step, would make the discovery too
late that she had mistaken her vocation. There was no
intentional cruelty in the conduct of Giacomo and Lapa
towards their child ; they believed it necessary to test
her resolution, and they acted sternly, in accordance with

Her Father's Judgment of her. ^

this belief. The storm thus raised and prolonged in their
household by the divergence and opposition of the wills of
those who really loved each other was, however, very pain-
ful to both parties. Catharine laboured cheerfully, never-
theless, to fulfil every task imposed on her. She was
forbidden to have a room to herself, and was ordered to
share one with another member of the family. She chose to
share the room of her little brother Stephen, because she
could profit by his long hours of absence in the day, and his
profound sleep at night, to continue her prayers and vigils.
Here she cried daily to her Saviour to direct her path, and
to claim her wholly as his own. Her brothers observed
her constancy, and said to each other, "we are beaten;
Catharine has won." Her father observed her silently, and
became daily more convinced that she was not following the
fancies of a capricious maiden, but the call of God. Ho
chanced to enter her room one evening when she was
absorbed in prayer. When he turned from her door he
was covering his face with his hand, as if dazzled ; he told
Lapa that he had seen a wonderful light resting upon and
enveloping the girl ; some said that the light he saw rested
in the form of a snow-white dove upon her head. What-
ever the appearance, it is certain that Giacomo became still
more thoughtful and more tenderly respectful towards his
daughter from that hour in which he learned how direct
and intimate were her relations with heaven.

About this time Catharine had a dream, suggested, no
doubt, by the constant and fervent desire of her waking
hours to be enrolled in the Dominican Order, and to be-
come a preacher. She dreamed that the good and great
St. Dominic approached her, smiling, and said to her,

30 Catharine of Siena.

" Daughter, be of good cheer ; fear no hindrance, for the day
is coming in which you shall be clothed with the mantle
you so much desire." She awoke with her heart filled with
joy, and on that very day she assembled her father, mother,
brothers, and sisters, saying she had a communication to
make to them, and thus she addressed the assembled
family : — " For a long time you have resolved that I should
marry, and my conduct must have convinced you that I
cannot entertain such a proposal. I have never, however,
explained myself clearly, because of the respect I feel for
you, my parents; but duty forbids me to be silent any
longer : I must now speak candidly to you, and reveal to
you a resolution I have made, which is not of yesterday,
but which dates from my infancy. Know, then, that I
have made a vow, not in levity, but deliberately, and with
full knowledge of what I was doing. Now that I am of
maturer age, and have a better acquaintance with the
nature of my own actions, I persist, by the grace of God,
in my resolution, and it would be easier to dissolve a rock
than to induce me to change my mind. Give up, therefore,
for me, dear friends, all these projects for an earthly union ;
it is impossible for me to satisfy you on this point, for I
must obey God rather than man. If you wish me to
remain as a servant in your house, I will cheerfully fulfil
all your will to the best of my power ; but if you should be
so displeased with me as to make you desire me to leave
you, know that I shall remain immovable in my resolve.
He who has united my soul to his, has all the riches of
heaven and earth, and he can provide for and protect
me." At these words all present wept ; sobs and tears
prevented for a time any response. Awed by the firmness

Catharine prevails . 31

and courage of the hitherto silent and gentle girl, the
whole family felt that further opposition was impossible.
At last the father spoke : — " God preserve us, dearest child,
from any longer opposing the resolution which he has in-
spired; experience proves to us that you have not been
actuated by caprice, but by a movement of divine grace.
Fulfil without hindrance the vow you have taken ; do all
that the Holy Spirit commands you ; henceforth your time
shall be at your own disposal ; only pray for us, that we
may become worthy of him who has called you at so
tender an age." Then, turning to his wife and children,
he said, " Let no one hereafter contradict my dear child, or
seek to turn her from her holy resolution ; let her serve
her Saviour in the way she desires, and may she seek his
favour and pardoning mercy for us ; we could never find
for her a more beautiful or honourable alliance, for her soul
is wedded to her Lord, and it is not a man, but the Lord
who dieth not, whom we now receive into our house."
After these words some still wept, and especially the poor
mother, who loved her daughter in a more earthly fashion,
perhaps, than the father did. Catharine humbly thanked
her parents, and rejoiced exceedingly.

She was now permitted to arrange for herself the little
private room, or cell, which became her sanctuary, and the
scene of her marvellous converse with God for so many
years, and which is shown in Siena to this day. Here she
devoted herself to prayer and to the study of the will of
God. For three years she scarcely quitted this cell. She
put forth during those years the strength of an athlete in
her wrestlings with heaven, determined first to know her
Saviour and her own heart, and then to do and to bear in

32 Catharine of Siena.

this world whatever he should ordain for her, awaiting the
time when he should call her to a still nearer communion
with himself. These years were not a time of listless con-
templation nor of sentimental piety for the dyer's daughter.
They were a stern and energetic preparation for the com-
bats of her future life.

She was very sparing in her diet; she gave biit little time
to sleep, and her bed was composed of a few planks with-
out any covering; she wore coarse clothing, but "as she
cherished cleanliness and exterior neatness as a sign of in-
terior purity," she frequently changed her woollen garments,
and allowed no outward marks of asceticism to appear in
her person. It was her custom to continue in prayer until
the hour of matins, Avhen, at the first sound of the matin
bell from the tower of her dearly-beloved church of St.
Dominic, she stretched herself on her wooden bed for a
brief hour of sleep; she loved to think that an unbroken
chain of prayers was ascending to God from the people's
quarter of the city, and she would not cease until the
brothers and sisters of St. Dominic had begun the matin
prayer and hymn of praise. She confided to Raymond, in
later life, that this victory over sleep had cost her more than
any other, and that she had undergone inexpressible conflicts
in triumphing over the natural desire for repose. Such con-
quests over self and over the infirmities, even over many of
the just and natural demands of the body, have never been
absent in the lives of those whom, par excellence, we call
" the saints," those who have left behind them an influence
which is of God, and imperishable; an influence which
even the most sceptical must confess to have been benign,
and charged with blessing for humanity. Catharine's

Her Austerities. Her Mother's Solicitude. 33

health was delicate, yet she possessed an extraordinary
nervous energy, and even a muscular strength which
astonished those who saw her exert it in the performance of
any generous or helpful act. She suffered all her life from
a weakness of the stomach, which made it difficult for her
to take any food without pain, succeeded often by violent
sickness and vomiting. She was also subject to attacks of
weakness and prostration, especially in the spring, which
would last several weeks.

Her mother was distressed at the sight of her austerities^
and implored her to eat more, as indeed did all her family.
The obedient daughter would make the attempt, in order
to please her family, but with very poor results; for the
sickness became more severe and spasmodic, so that she
sometimes fainted away and remained insensible for a long
time, through the violence of her sufferings. Lapa would
sometimes enter her room in the early morning, and lifting
her in her arms, would carry her to her own bed and gently
place her there for greater comfort; but her daughter^
thanking her kindly, begged the favour of being allowed to
return to her planks in her own dear little room ; or if she
found her mother herself had fallen asleep, she would rise
softly, and kneel and pray for that dear anxious mother,
and for all her family.

The desire to enter into the third order of St. Dominic
continually increased. It may be useful to say a few words
here concerning that valiant soldier of Christ, St. Dominic.
This active and zealous apostle laboured for very needful
reforms in the Church and in the world. In order to work
more effectually for these reforms, he brought together a
number of laymen, and organized them into a kind of militia.

D

34 Catharine of Siena.

Those wlio enrolled themselves swore to sacrifice, if necessary,
their earthly goods and their lives ; and their wives engaged
themselves also by a vow never to hinder, but to assist as
much as possible, their husbands in their work. These
associates took the title of Brethren and Sisters of the
Mihtia of Jesus Christ; they wore the black and white
habit of St. Dominic. This Militia, after the death of St.
Dominic, was placed under the direction of his own Friar
Preachers, and assisted that hardworking and truly apostolic
body in their labours for the reform of morals and the
salvation of souls. The Sisters of the Militia changed their
title later into that of the Sisters of Penance of St. Dominic.
Catharine had seen and heard many of the wandering Friar
Preachers who, in default of a temple made with hands,
would gather the people in the fields and by the wayside in
the cool of the evening to hear the glad tidings of grace.
What life, she thought, could be so blessed as this ? what
mission so sacred as this of carrying the lamp of truth from
city to city 1 Who so hap})y as these messengers, disencum-
bered of all worldly ties, and ready for all the martyrdom
of life as well as for death ? But she was a woman ! That
she should ever share so blessed a life, that she should ever
be permitted to pour forth in words of fire the burning
love of her heart for humanity, seemed for a time an idle
dream. Still the desire continued ; still she longed to
become a preacher, and the first step was that she should be
enrolled as a Mantellata ; (such was the name given to the
wearers of the cloak or mantle of St. Dominic). We
find her mother so far won to accept her child's ideas as
to go herself to the Fraternity of St. Dominic to request
this favour for her daughter. She received for reply that

Her Manners and Personal Appearance. 35

"it was not the custom to give the mantle to young
maidens; that hitherto none but widows of very mature
age, or wives consecrated to work with their husbands, had
received it; also that the Mantellatas had no cloister or
building devoted to them, and that each Sister must be
able to rule her life in her own home." On a second
application being made by Lapa, the Elders among the
Sisters replied, " If she be not too handsome, nor of a
beauty too remarkable, we will receive her on your account
and hers ; but if she be exceedingly pretty, we shall be
obliged to refuse, for we are bound to avoid the incon-
veniences that might spring from the malice of men at the
present period." After having conversed with Catharine
herself, and observed the maturity of her thoughts, and the
strength of her purpose, the Fraternity decided to admit
her. Catharine was not beautiful. We gather from the
slight mention of her personal appearance, and from the
bust and portrait of her executed by contemporary artists,
that her face expressed, above all things, candour, sweetness,
and vigour. Her countenance was frank and open as the
day ; she had a habit of looking straight at everyone whom
she addressed ; her forehead was broad and open, a little
too receding for beauty ; her hair and eyebrows dark brown ;
her eyes a clear grey or hazel ; her nose was straight and
extremely delicate; her chin and jaw strong and rather
prominent ; her smile is continually mentioned ; a loving,
gracious smile, which pervaded her whole countenance, lit
up her eyes, and often broke into a joyous laugh. Her
charm was not that of positive beauty, but of kindness,
frankness, and grace. All her movements were full of
native grace. " An artist born," as Chavin de Malan says

d2

36 Catharine of Siena.

of her, " her attitudes and manner were all unconsciously
artistic and beautiful." A true Italian, she used much action
in speaking, gesticulated freely, but not excitedly. She
spoke rather rapidly and in the sweetest Sienese accent ; she
had a particularly graceful and gracious manner towards all
who came to visit her, bowing low to greet them, as was the
custom in her time, sometimes kneeling when saluting
persons whom she deemed especially venerable, and then
seating herself by their side for frank and friendly converse.
Her manners, with men and women alike, outstripped some-
what the prescribed conventionalities of her times. Young
men who would come with some feeling of awe to visit the
far-famed saint, and not without fears concerning the inter-
view, were taken by surprise, gladdened and reassured by
her frank approach, her two hands held out for greeting, her
kind, sisterly smile, and the easy grace with which she
invited them to open their hearts. She was, in fact, a true,
simple, and self-forgetting woman, a frank and generous
friend, the " gracious lady " of Siena, who well deserved all
the love and all the confidence which her fellow-citizens
first, and afterwards the whole of Italy, lavished upon her.
There was nothing affected, nothing artificial about her.
With all her refined grace, she yet bore with her to the end
the simple and almost blunt manners and habits of the
"Daughter of the People." The honest pride in, and affec-
tion for her entertained by the Sienese is illustrated in the
various titles by which they delighted to speak of her, as
well as in many other expressions in regard to her. She is
called " the Daughter of the Republic," " the Child of the
People," " Our Lady of the Contrada d'Oca," " the Mantel-
lata," "the People's Catharine," "the Beloved Sienese," "the

The Secret of her Spintital Life. 37

Painter's Daughter," the " Beata Popolana," which may be
translated the "Blessed Plebeian, or Daughter of the People,"
(fee, (fee. On receiving the habit of St. Dominic, she did
not at once enter upon an active life. Indeed, it appears
that it required some holy constraint to draw her out of
her cell and to launch her upon the stormy sea of social and
political life before her.

And here I must pause to speak of that great secret of
Catharine's spiritual life, the constant converse of her soul
with God. Her book, entitled " The Dialogue," represents
a conversation between a soul and God, mysterious and per-
haps meaningless to many, but to those who can understand,
full of revelation of the source of her power over human
hearts. All through her autobiography (for such her Dia-
logue and Letters may be called) no expressions occur more
frequently than such as these : " The Lord said to me," &c.
— " My God told me to act so and so " — " While I was
praying, my Saviour showed me the meaning of this, and
spoke thus to me." I shall not attempt to explain, nor shall
I alter this simple form of speech. It is not for us to limit
the possibilities of the communications and revelations
which the Eternal may be pleased to make to a soul which
continually waits upon him. If you are disposed, reader,
to doubt the fact of these communications from God, or to
think that Catharine only fancied such and such things,
and attributed these fancies to a divine source, then I would
give you one word of advice, and one only. Go you and
make the attempt to live a life of prayer such as she
lived, and then, and not till then, will you be in a posi-
tion which will give you any shadow of a right, or any
power to judge of this soul's dealings with God. But

38 Caihanne of Siena.

observe that a brief or fitful effort will not suffice to place
you in this position : you must persevere long in the diffi-
cult path of divine research ; you must bring to the task
the sustained self-denial and untiring diligence which some
men bring to the pursuit of discovery in natural science.
Let us imagine a person who had never seen a telescope,
and who was profoundly ignorant of the most elementary
laws which govern the motions of the planets, and suppose
this person to have stepped in between Newton and the
stars, and declared, " Philosopher, I do not believe what
you tell me of the wonderful action of these heavenly
bodies ; I believe you to be deceiving yourself ; I have not
tried any such experiments as you have tried ; and I do
not believe that any such experiments can conduct to any
such results as you speak of, even if any such experiments
can be made. The whole thing is beyond the range and
scope of my own experience, and I cannot conceive how it
can be true. In fact, I deny it." Such a person would be
pronounced unscientific at least ; perhaps he might justly
be called a fool. Not less unscientific is he who, never
having used the means for the discovery of spiritual truth,
and being profoundly ignorant of the most elementary
laws which must be understood and followed in order to
arrive at such truth, declares that he does not believe there
is a God, or does not believe that any communication can
be established between a creature and his Creator, and
attributes to delusion and fancy all that experimental
philosophers in divine things have told us they have
found and seen. Perhaps it might not be unjust to appl}''
a stronger word than unscientific also to such a one. The
science of which Catharine was a devotee is, let it be

The Science of Prayer. 39

remembered, pre-eminently an experimental science. For
many, however, it is needless that I should speak thus ; nor
will I attempt any explanation or apology for the manner
in which our saint constantly speaks of that which the
natural eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, but which God
has in all times revealed to them that persistently seek him.
Those who have any experience of real prayer know full
well that in the pause of the soul before God, after it has
uttered its complaint, made known its desires, or sought
guidance in perplexity, there comes the clearer vision of
duty, and the still small voice of guidance is heard, rectify-
ing the judgment, strengthening the resolve, and consoling
the spirit ; they know that this influence, external to us,
and yet within us, gently and forcibly moves us, deals with
us, speaks with us, in fine. Prayer cannot be truly called
communion, if the only voice heard be the voice of the
pleader. Be still, be silent, then, dear reader, if you are dis-
posed to object. If you have not yet heard that voice of God
speaking within you, it is because you have not yet pleaded
enough Avith him ; it is because you have not yet considered
or acted in this matter in a truly scientific manner.

Catharine now learned from our Lord that she "was
henceforth to banish from her heart all anxious thoughts
concerning herself and her own salvation," so that no dis-
traction should keep her back from the service of the
souls of others. Some presentiments, however, of ap-
proaching conflict seemeil to have urged her at this time
to pray especially for the gift of fortitude, and this forti-
tude was soon to be severely tried. She was to pass
through one of those bitter conflicts, the very memory of
which is pain to those who have endured them. "The

40 Calharine of Siena.

great enemy of man advanced to the dread assault of her
soul," as he did with our Lord himself when he was "alone
in the wilderness, and tempted of the devil." She was
assailed "by the most humiliating temptations, and by
exciting phantoms of the imagination which haunted her
sleeping and waking. She saw in her dreams impure orgies,
wherein men and women seemed to invite her by words
and gestures to join with them ; she was tormented in-
wardly ; her eyes, her ears, her soul, seemed to her to be
defiled." She endured combats too horrible to relate. All
the passion of her young southern blood seemed to rise up
in a fierce rebellion against her own resolution and the
ruggedness of the vid crucis. She combated valiantly,
prayed the more earnestly, worked the more assiduously
in household work, and augmented her vigils. The enemy
refused to retire. She seemed to see persons who came to
pity and advise her. " Why, poor little one," they said,
" do you thus torture yourself so uselessly 1 Why all these
efforts and self-mortification ? You will not be able to con-
tinue them ; you will destroy yourself, and become guilty
of suicide. It is better to renounce these austerities and
enjoy the world while you are young ; you are naturally
strong, and would soon recover health if you live as other
people do." To all these suggestions Catharine only op-
posed prayer. She afterwards gave the advice in general
to others in such cases, never to dispute with the enemy,
" for he relies," she said, " very much on vanquishing us by
the subtilty of his reasonings."

But this deadly trouble passed away, and then there
came a period of sadness and bitter conflict which ap-
peals far more pitifully to all our human sympathies.

Conflict. 41

The woman's heart within her was beating fresh and warm :
she was young ; her soul was full of music and of poetic
imaginations; who more fitted by nature than she to realize
the highest and sweetest of human love ? It was the era
of romance, the age of the troubadours. She had heard
many a fair tale of love ; the noblest of earthly lovers
seemed to woo her ; the vision stood near her, and looked
in her eyes ; his exquisite human pleadings broke in upon
the songs of angels, and extinguished the voice of her
heart's Spouse. When she slept, exhausted, she dreamed
herself in the midst of a sweet home — lier own ; she
seemed to clasp in her arms the little infant which hung
upon her breast ; and waking, the woman's heart within
her was well-nigh broken. Her little room was filled with
a strange mingling of heavenly and earthly music. The
love-songs of the troubadours interrupted the strains of
the Magnificat and the penitential psalms. She had hours
of agonizing hesitation of will. Wise and practical coun-
sellors seemed to advise her : " Why be so rash as to
choose a life in which you cannot persevere 1 Why ex-
tinguish within you the holy impulses of nature which
God has implanted in you ? Many among the saints were
married. Think of Sarah and Eachel, and of many of
recent years; of your contemporaries; of St. Bridget,
Queen of Sweden, wife, mother, and prophet." But the
celestial wooer prevailed. The love of loves was again
more perfectly manifested to her, the agony was over, and
she fell at the feet of Jesus.

Many in our days will disapprove of Catharine's choice ;
it will appear to them an error, a sin even, against herself,
and perhaps against society ; for what greater boon, some

42 CatJianne of Siena.

will say, could she have bestowed than descendants who
would, no doubt, more or less, have inherited her own
nobility and genius 1 Doubtless Catharine might have
married, and given to the world twenty-five children, as
her mother Lapa did. No doubt she might have been
in this state the recipient and dispenser abundantly of
spiritual life to all around her : but she would not have
done the work which Catharine of Siena, the subject of
this biography, did : her whole soul, her whole time, the
whole strength of her affections would not have been
reserved to be lavished upon that great familj'- for whom
she elected to live — humanity.

I do not find that there entered into her thoughts the
smallest idea of merit or of reward in renouncing earthly
joys and human ties. The most careful search through all
her utterances, written or spoken, fails to reveal a single
word claiming to herself any merit. Her dying words give
the key to the faith or the philosophy which she embraced
from her childhood. Barduccio, one of her secretaries, who
gathered up her last words, tells us that when she knew she
was dying, "she blessed us all, and pronounced these words:
' Yes, Lord, thou callest me, I come to thee ; I go to thee,
not on account of my merits, but solely on account of thy mercy,
and that mercy I have implored in the name, 0 Jesus, of
thy precious blood.' " The words in italics are emphasized
by Barduccio himself, as if to preserve the solemnity
with which they were pronounced by Catharine. Nor
does she speak of reward, except the reward of bringing
blessing to her fellow-creatures. Like St. Paul, she was
ready "to be accursed from Christ for her brethren's
sake." She was ready to give up all things for the love

CmflicL 43

she bore to her brethren, to humanity. Yet she knew that
he who labours to bring his fellow-men to God, will not be
required to give up the blessed reward of seeing him face
to face to whose feet he has brought this multitude of souls :
"For they that are teachers shall shine as the light, and
the}' that have brought many to righteousness, as the stars
for ever and ever." Had Catharine's choice been other-
wise, she might have been blessed indeed, yet would have
missed the peculiar blessing of those of "whom Christ spake
emphatically, who have " left father and mother, and wife
and children, and houses and lands, for my sake, and for
the gospel." And what was that peculiar blessing 1 In
her case, at least, it was a greater power — power to win, to
convert, to suffer, to rule, to command, for the salvation of
erring man, and for the glory of God.

For a time peace was granted to the soul of Catharine
after this prolonged conflict of many weeks. But " the
infernal foe," as the mediaeval historians have it, " annoyed
at her perseverance and victory," again " changed his
weapons," and recommenced his tortures. A still darker
period arrived, in which her sufferings were such as
almost to deprive her of reason. Diabolical beings seemed
to pursue her with screams, inviting her to partake in
their abominations; the most cynical suggestions were
poured into her mind, and to crown her affliction, her
divine helper, who had usually in the worst moments
made his sustaining presence felt by her, now seemed to
have forsaken her, and she was left with no relief, visible
or invisible ; her soul was plunged into a profound melan-
choly, and the strength to continue in prayer seemed
about to forsake her. She now summoned all her energy,

44 Catharine of Siena.

adjured her own soul, so to speak, to renew and to multiply
its efforts in prayer, instead of diminishing them. She cast
herself at the feet of God, determined not to murmur, but
patiently to await his return and help. Her little room at
the Fullonica seemed to be " infested with these impure
spirits ; " she therefore wisely left it, and remained as long
as possible in the church on the hill, where these " infernal
obsessions tormented her less." Here she continued for the
greater part of three days engaged in constant prayer. The
evil spirit seemed still to taunt her, saying, " Poor miserable
creature, thou canst never pass thy whole life in this state ;
we will torment thee to death, unless thou dost obey us."
Catharine replied with patience, yet with determination,
" Be it so ; I have chosen suffering for Christ's sake, and I
am willing, if need be, to endure this till death." Imme-
diately on pronouncing this determination, a great light
seemed to descend from above, filling the place where she
kneeled with heavenly brightness. The devils left her, and
One better than the angels came and ministered to her. The
Lord Jesus himself drew nigh to her, and conversed with her
of her trial and her victory. But she, like St. Anthony,
said to him, " Lord, where wast thou when my heart was
so tormented 1" "I was in the midst of thy heart," he
replied. " Ah, Lord," she answered, " thou art everlast-
ing Truth, and I humbly bow before thy word ; but how
can I believe that thou wert in my heart when it was filled
with such detestable thoughts 1 " The Lord asked her,
" Did these thoughts and temptations give thee pleasure or
pain?" "An exceeding pain and sadness," she replied;
to whom the Lord : " Thou wast in woe and sadness, be-
cause I was hidden in the midst of thy heart; my pre-

The Vidwy. 45

sence it was which rendered those thoughts insupportable
to thee ; thou didst strive to repel them, because they filled
thee with horror, and because thou didst not succeed, thj'
spirit was bowed down with sorrow. When the period
which I had determined for the duration of the combat had
elapsed, I sent forth the beams of my light, and the shades
of hell were dispelled, because they cannot resist that light.
Because thou hast accepted these trials with thy whole
heart, thoii art delivered from them for ever ; it is not thy
trouble that pleases me, but the loill that has supported
that trouble courageously." Catharine was now absorbed
in a joy which could find no expression in words. She had
asked the gift of fortitude, and she saw that her request
had been granted. "This generous young athlete," says
Raymond, "thus combated alone in the arena," and return-
ing victorious, became for the future a fit teacher and guide
of men, to whom among all her counsels she gave most
frequently this, " Quit yourselves like men ; be strong in
the Lord, and in the power of his might. "^ She never
again suffered from a renewal of this form of temptation.

It was shortly after the cessation of this conflict that
Catharine entered into that yet more intimate covenant
with the Saviour of her soul, the recital of which to some
of her friends became the occasion of the propagation of
the legend immortalized by so many Italian painters of
the mystical marriage of St. Catharine. The pictures

^ Tonimaseo remarks on the frequency in Catharine's letters to
princes and potentates, and men of every degree, of the use of the
words " virile " and " virilmente," and of her charges to women as
w^ell as to men to act in a manly spirit.

46 Catharine of Siena.

generally represent the Virgin Mary guiding the hand of
the Child Jesus to place on the finger of Catharine a ring,
which was to be a sign of her divine espousals. Fra
Bartolommeo, himself a Dominican, was the first to put
the idea on canvas. One of the most beautiful and often
repeated works of Correggio is the " Marriage of St. Catha-
rine." One of these is in the Studj Gallery at Naples.
Other repetitions are at St. Petersburg, in the gallery of
the Capitol at Rome, and in other places. Catharine's own
account of this dream or vision which she had is very
simple. She saw her Saviour approach, and place on her
finger a ring, on which blazed a diamond of unearthly
purity and beauty. He had said to her, "I, thy Creator
and Redeemer, espouse thee in faith and love. Preserve
this token in purity, until we celebrate in the presence of
the Father, the eternal nuptials of the Lamb. Daughter,
now acquit thyself courageously ; perform with a dauntless
spirit the works which my providence will assign to thee ;
thou shalt triumph over all enemies. " She had been long and
intensely dwelling upon the words spoken by our Lord to
his disciples, " With desire have I desired to eat this Pass-
over with you ; " and she had realized in all its extent and
meaning what she had given up in order to be more entirely
the servant of God and of humanity. That her heavenly
Guide should have at this moment granted her such strong
consolation and such a perfect sense of mutual recognition
and union between her spirit and his, was consistent with the
infinite loving-kindness and fidelity with which he treats
the souls which give up all for the kingdom of heaven's
sake.

About this time Catharine taught herself to read, for

Her Progress in Knowledge. 47

she had had hitherto no knowledge whatever of letters.
She desired to be able to study for herself the Scriptures,
especially the Psalms and Gospels, as well as the lives and
writings of the fathers, confessors, and martyrs. She
learned Avith such rapidity that her friends declared that
the angel Gabriel himself had come down to her cell with a
spelling-book to teach her, for nothing but a miracle, they
thought, could account for her sudden accession of learning.
It was not till many years later that she learned to
write ; and yet some Italian writers rank this woman with
Petrarch and Boccaccio, as one of those who " formed the
• Italian language, such as it was in the fourteenth century."
The dignity and beauty of her language have even led
writers to compare her style, not unfavourably, with that
of Dante. She wrote several poems of some merit; but
her books, in which her own " philosophy " is set forth,
her letters, many of which are preserved to us, and her
Avritten prajers, afford the chief justification for the high
opinion formed of her powers as an author by her con-
temporaries and by later historians.

Up to this period she had never been under the direction
of any spiritual pastor or guide. Raymond says : " He
whom she loved gave her neither an angel nor a man to
be her director, but appeai-ed to her himself in her little
cell, and taught her all that was most needful for her to
know. 'Be assured, father,' she said to me one day,
' that nothing that I have learned concerning God and our
salvation was taught me by man ; it was my Master, our
Lord Jesus Christ, who revealed it to me by his in-
spirations.' " This Raymond of Capua, so often quoted,
did not make her acquaintance until the period of the

48 Catharine of Siena.

plague of 1373 in Siena, when Catharine was twenty-six
years of age. Eaymond was, indeed, one of the spiritual
sons of Catharine, having been a mere formal functionary
of the Church up to the time of his acquaintance with
her. He afterwards became her intimate friend and fellow-
labourer, and finally her biographer ; but more of this
hereafter.

With this part of Catharine's history terminates her
silent and retired life. We shall now see how she was
gradually drawn among the busy haunts of men, how she
was claimed as a guide to consciences, and called to public
action as a counsellor and diplomatist.

CHAPTER III.

The Sienese manifested from the earliest period of their
history the proud spirit of independence which character-
ized them throughout. Tacitus tells how they drove out
the senator Manlius Patruitus, and how the Roman Govern-
ment was obliged by a solemn decree to teach them a lesson
of humility.^ When the tide of the Gothic invasion had
swept over Italy, the Northern conquerors set their affec-
tions more especially on fair Tuscany, and sought to establish
themselves in her plains and mountains, always preferring
the country to the cities. Siena, gathering herself together,
so to speak, with all her force, succeeded in preserving her-
self from the foreign influence, and maintained throughout
the dark ages her own municipal administration. Her
inhabitants continued to live by industry, manufactures,
and the arts. From the eighth to the tenth century was
the period of the lowest state of political and spiritual servi-
tude for Italy. Siena, with other powerful cities, received,
however, during that period, the training of misfortune, and

1 "Additumque senatus conEultum, quo Senesium plebes modes-
iiaeadmoneretur." — Tacitus, Hist., Lib. iv., Tom. iii.

50 Catharine of Siena.

emerging from it, strove for and won many rights and
franchises. She declared herself independent, and became
the first city of Tuscany. She maintained for a long time
this place of honour, although she had an illustrious rival in
the republic of Florence, which afterwards eclipsed her. A
long series of conflicts between the Florentines and the
Sienese succeeded the first great rupture between the two
republics in 1082.

The internal administration of the republic of Siena was
as follows : The city was divided into three portions, called
the Tierce of the City, the Tierce of CamoUia, and the
Tierce of St. Martin. Each Tierce had its own banner, and
its auxiliaries in the country around. The poet Tondi sang
of the valour of the citizens of Siena, ranged under their
three banners. There then came a subdivision of the
inhabitants, which was according to the arts or trades.
There were the Great Arts and the Inferior Arts. The
seven great arts comprised jurists and notaries, merchants
in foreign tissues, bankers or exchangers, clothiers, physi-
cians, chemists, and merchants in silk and in furs. The
inferior arts were those of retail clothiers, butchers, sad-
dlers, shoemakers, and masons. Each division of the
Great Arts had its council, a chief magistrate or consul
for the administration of justice in that division, and
its gonfalonier, or standard-bearer, around whom it ral-
lied in times of battle. There was no paid or permanent
army, but every citizen bore arms in time of war. Com-
merce, which was the source of the wealth of the Italian
republics of the Middle Ages, was also in a great mea-
sure the source of their independence. The rich bour-
geoisie supplied the cavalry for war ; no " cavaliere "

Civil Life in Siena. 51

was admitted into the army till he had passed a severe
novitiate in military exercises, supplemented by pilgrim-
ages, fasts, and trials of moral and physical strength. "He
then," says Brant6me, " spent the night in vigil and prayer ;
in the morning he was clothed in a white tunic, emblematic
of the purity of life which he was expected henceforth to
maintain." The infantry, drawn from the representatives
of the Inferior Arts, also passed through a novitiate which
tested their valour and skill. In the centre of the repub-
lican army was the famous Carroccio, a car upon four
wheels, drawn by four pairs of oxen covered to the feet in
rich cloths. A horn or " antenna " rose from the centre of
the car to a great height, upon which floated the standard
of the republic, with its device of a golden lion, not ram-
pant, but marching forward -^ a fitting device, " for these
intrepid artisans were never known to flee." Lower down,
about the middle of the antenna, a Christ upon the Cross,
with outspread arms, seemed to bless the army. A kind
of platform in the front of the car was reserved for the
most valiant soldiers, told off for its defence; behind was
another platform for the trumpeters and musicians. An
act of religious consecration and worship was celebrated
upon the car before it left the city, and white-robed priests
accompanied it to the battle-field. As the Carroccio of
Siena, drawn by the large mild-eyed oxen of Tuscany,
wound its way through the gates and down the sloping
olive-clothed hills from the city, crowds followed its course
with straining eyes, from the walls and ramparts and house-
tops. The loss of the Carroccio was to the republic like

1 "Non rampaDte, ma caminante." — Tommasi, Historia di Siena.

E 2

52 Catharine of Siena.

the loss of the Ark of the Lord to the Hebrews — the
greatest public calamity ; and all that each city possessed
of most valorous, the nerve and flower of the army, was
chosen to act as the guard of the sacred car ; the fiercest of
the conflict was waged around it ; and its presence often
decided the fate of the battle. It was looked upon with
superstitious reverence, and by a law of the republic a lamp
was caused to burn night and day before the car which bore
the destinies of the people. The Carroccio had a great
influence upon military art in Italy. It Avas necessary to
make the city infantry redoubtable, in order to resist the
feudal cavalry, to give them firmness, equilibrium, weight,
and self-reliance. Their evolutions must be measured and
deliberate, even their retreat slow and well-ordered ; all
must needs be harmonized with the strong and steady
march of the oxen of the Apennines.

In 1260 a great battle was fought between the rival
republics of Florence and Siena. During the fiercest hour
of the action, near the Castle of Montaperti, " an unusual
alarm and disorder appeared in the Florentine ranks ; sud-
denly many soldiers dropped their arms and stood still,
each under the delusion that he was betrayed by his com-
rade."i Jacopo del Nacca, the brave gonfalonier of Florence,
rallied his followers and held aloft his standard, until his
own treacherous countryman Bocca degli Abbati cut off his
right hand, and he and his colours fell together.

It was a great victory for the Sienese, who returned
triumphant to their city with troops of prisoners ; the
captive soldiers gathered round the women who had

^ Villani, Lib. vi.

Victory of tJie. Sienese over the Florentines. 53

carried out bread to the army, imploring their protection ;
the bells rang and the people rejoiced ; young girls pre-
sented bread and wine to the wearied soldiers ; and the
victorious army marched to the great cathedral to give
thanks to God in solemn anthems. In that cathedral there
may be seen to this day the antenna of the Florentine Car-
roccio, firmly riveted to one of the pillars, a memento of
the military greatness of an extinct republic.^ When the
dust and the passion of the battle had subsided, the results
were reckoned up. Florence had lost 10,000 men ; the
river Arbia had rolled its waves, reddened with blood, over
heaps of slain ; and " the flowers on its banks remained
faded all that year;" there were 15,000 captives; the
Florentine Carroccio had been taken; and the "beautiful
city sitting upon her hills, wept, disconsolate." It was the
memory of this defeat which Dante, some years later, in
the bitterness of his exile from his beloved Florence,
recalled to his countrymen, in his great poem, where the
Tuscan Camiccione asks the poet, with tears, if he desires
to wound him by reviving the memory of that terrible

day :—

" Piangeiiclo mi sgrido ; perchfe mi peste ?
Se tu non vieni a crescer la vendetta
Di Mout 'Aperti, perche mi molesti ? " — Iii/enw, xxxii.

At the close of the twelfth century Siena exchanged its
modest municipal government for the dignity of a consu-
late. In less than eighty years this form of government
expired ; the rivalries of the Guelphs and Ghibellines
hastened its ruin; and towards the end of the thirteenth
century the last consul, Ugurgieri, was driven forth from

^ Cbavin de Malan.

64 Catharine of Siena.

the city gates with execration, and the clerk of the city
exchequer paid ten florins to the artisans who provided the
ropes and grappling-irons by which they pulled down and
demolished his house. The chiefs of the popular party now
took the management of affairs into their own hands, and
in order, if possible, to shut out the nobles henceforth from
all share in the government, they established a cunningly-
devised system of elections which would insure the future
members of the government being exclusively of the ple-
beian class. The government was composed of nine persons,
three from each of the Tierces of the city. This govern-
ment, or signory, was called the " Mount of the Nine."
The elections were so managed that the sovereign authority
became in effect the monopoly of fewer than a hundred
citizens ; this was a violation of the ancient charter of the
city. The Nine soon became a kind of " Oligarchy of the
Inferior Arts." They became odious to the nobility who
were excluded from all share in the administration, and
finally lost the confidence of the mass of the people them-
selves, who resented the outrage upon the constitution of the
republic. The three principal Guelph republics of Tuscany,
i.e., Florence, Siena, and Perugia, ought, by an understood
agreement which had been formed, to have made common
cause in defence of their liberties ; but the Nine failed in
their allegiance to their allies. The widely-feared and ill-
famed family of the Visconti, Dukes of Milan, already
possessors of almost the whole of Lombardy, dreamed of
a day when they should bear rule over the whole of
Italy ; they were the enemies of the peace of the country
and the scourge of its inhabitants for nearly a century.
The Nine of Siena were discovered to have made some

The Emperor Cluirles IV. enters Siena. 55

secret overtures to this ambitious family, actuated by
selfish political motives, and in fear of the increasing dis-
affection of the people of Siena. This increased the anger
of the Sienese, and especially of the division of the Inferior
Arts, upon which more especially the Nine had brought
dishonour by their acts. This state of things lasted till
the year 1355, when Charles IV., Emperor of Germany,
entered Siena on his way through Italy to be crowned
King of Rome. The terrible internal wars and troubles
of Italy had drawn upon her the ambitious regard of the
German sovereigns. " The yellow-haired German never
crossed the Alps except with the view of conquest ; he
thought it would be an easy thing to leap into the empty
saddle of the wild horse of the Apennines, to master its
fury, and render it obedient to his rule." ^ Charles IV.
was an intriguing and greedy prince, possessing little
courage ; all his negotiations with the Italians were
deceitful ; he had no intention of embracing their quar-
rels ; he made fictitious alliances with all the Northern
Italian republics, and while treating in a friendly manner
with the enemies of the Visconti, he was receiving the
ambassadors of the great Duke of Milan and drawing up
conditions of alliance with him also. He believed he
should thus remove every obstacle to his triumphal march
to Rome, to be crowned king of the imperial city, this
title having being conferred on him by Pope Innocent VI.,
with a promise of making it a reality. The Sienese, who
cared little about the personal designs or prospects of

Dante apostrophizes Italy as " The riderless horse of the
Apennines," and asks, " What does it avail thee that Justinian
adjusted thy bridle if thy saddle is empty ? "

66' Catluiiine of Siena.

Charles, took advantage of his passing through Siena in
order to enable them to cast off the hated yoke of the Nine,
which they had endured for seventy years. The moment
he entered the city he was greeted by cries of " Welcome
the Emperor ! Down with the Nine ! " Charles was
greatly alarmed ; he came seeking allies who would streng-
then him, not a people with a grievance who would seek
his help. He looked about him eagerly to try and dis-
cover, without delay, which was likely to prove the stronger
paity in this divided State, in order that he might give his
royal countenance to that, independently of the justice of
the question contended. His sympathies were with those
actually in power ; but, on the other side he saw the chiefs
of the nobility of Siena, who had thrown in their lot with
the people to rid themselves of the oligarchy of the Inferior
Arts. Among these there were the Tolomei, the Malavolti,
the Piccolomini, the Sarracini, and the Salimbeni. The last
were a powerful race, " as hard as oak," an immense tribe,
and proud of their fecundity. He saw rich merchants and
the mass of the humbler people also ranked against the
government. This party was evidently the one on whose
side he should declare himself. Charles made no effort,
therefore, to check the popular revolution, and by the
third day the sedition had assumed a very serious charac-
ter. All business ceased ; ateliers were closed ; the streets
were barricaded ; the Nine, shut up in the palace of
the Signory, sent to the Emperor to implore his aid.
The Emperor came, rode his horse into the palace, and
commanded the Nine to give up to him the seals of office ;
he bade them release him from a promise he had made
before his arrival to maintain their authority, asked for

Revelations and Political Changes. 57

the charters he had given them, and burnt them before
their eyes. The people forced the prisons, freed the
prisoners, entered the church in Avhich were kept the
banners of the Nine, and dragged them through the mud
of the streets. The cry was heard on all sides, "Down
with tlie tyrants ! let them die the death !" The houses of
the ruling faction were burnt to the ground, their persons
insulted, and several of them murdered.^

The humble industries of the Contrada d'Oca sufi'ered at
this time with all other industrial and commercial interests.
The workshop of Giacomo was closed. Catharine's two
eldest brothers, Benincasa and Bartolommeo, were old
enough to join in the popular revolt, and they, with the
other apprentices of Giacomo, had left their wool-dyeing
for the crowded streets. Catharine was then eight years
old, of an age to understand her just and gentle father's
comments on the events passing before them; none more
than he resented the violation by the Nine of the con-
stitutional rights of the people, but in him indignation was
always tempered with mercy. Catharine, in her visits to
the church of the Friar Preachers, saw the aisles silent and
deserted ; the benches, wooden chairs, and every available
portion of the church furniture had been removed for
l>uilding barricades in the narrow streets. All that she
saw and heard contributed to encourage in the young girl
the strong republican love of liberty, and to confirm her in
the conviction that human life is no holiday pastime, but a
prolonged struggle between opposing elements, for nations
as well as for the individual.

1 Muratori, Vol. xv., p. 148,

58 Catharine of Siena.

When the first excitement of the revolution had been
partly subdued, the Emperor, acting on the counsels of some
of the popular citizens and nobles, appointed thirty com-
missioners to make inquiry with a view to the reform of the
government, and continued on his way towards Rome. On
his return he found Siena still in a state of revolution. The
people had excluded to perpetuity the order of the Nine
from all participation in the government. They had elevated
in their place twelve magistrates, chosen from the bourgeoisie.
The Emperor did not favour the change, seeing that it
promised no advantage to himself. He proposed to give
to the Republic an arbitrator, or chief, to act as a
moderator between the different parties, and succeeded in
persuading the people to accept, in this capacity, his natural
brother, the Bishop of Prague and Patriarch of Aquileia,
who was then in his suite. The instinct of liberty, so
strong in this people, led them to suspect and revolt
against this arrangement almost as soon as it was com-
pleted. It was an unpleasant sight to them to see the
blonde face of the German Patriarch at the windows of
the Pallazzo Pubblico; and they sent him to live in a
private house. A sense of general uneasiness prevailed,
and the Patriarch could not move or speak without giving
offence. On the 14th of May, 1355, some incident occurred
which excited the anger of the people ; the hot sun of the
approaching summer stimiilating the passions already so
turbulent. They fixed iron chains across every street to
stop the cavalry which guarded the Patriarch, and forced
him in person to recall the lately-appointed and superseded
Twelve to the Pallazzo. Charles was then at Pisa; he
confessed himself in fear and terror of these obstinate

Continuance of Political Conflicts. 59

republicans, and wrote from Pisa that the Patriarch must
be sent to him, safe and sound, and that without delay.i
"The Patriarch placed his resignation in the hands of the
people, gave back to the republican officers all the neigh-
bouring castles which he had garrisoned, and decamped,
to the great relief of the Sienese, who re-established the
Twelve, and returned to their merchandise and workshops."
Thirteen years later, in 1368, a fresh revolution took
place. The Twelve had, in this interval, become as
tyrannical and hateful to the people as the Nine had
been ; but they were still more detested by the ancient
nobility. The two great families of the Tolomei and the
Salimbeni, living in their fortified chateaux in the neigh-
bourhood of Siena, called together all their vassals, and
marching to the city, demanded the possession of the
Pallazzo Pubblico and the reins of government. The
Twelve retired in terror, without a conflict; the nobles,
masters of the Eepublic, proclaimed the restoration of
the Consulate of the twelfth century. Ten consuls were
chosen by them from among themselves, and three from
the number of the proscribed Nine. The people could
not, however, accept their own exclusion from all share in
the government, and revolted ; both parties had recourse
again to the Emperor Charles. Charles, promising his
protection to all, caused to be installed at Siena, as his
imperial vicar, Malatesta Unghero, with a guard of eight
hundred German soldiers ; the nobles vigorously opposed
this step ; they defended their rights to a supreme part in
the government, and resorting again to arms, they fought

^ Muratori.

60 Catharine of Siena.

during one long day in the streets, and not until they had
been beaten from gate to gate of the city, did they retire
to their country castles. The popular party, now in the
ascendant, set themselves the task of constituting a new
form of government, and establishing a just distribution of
political rights among the different orders of the State.
Not desiring to obliterate their past, they recognized the
existence of the Nine, and that of the Twelve, by the
election, from their ranks, of a certain number of members
of the new administration. They created, however, a new
and more numerous order, largely recruited from the popular
party, and this order received the name of the Reformers.
The Twelve, still smarting under their recent deprivation
of power, began, however, at once a series of intrigues
with the view of recovering the supreme authority. They
eagerly entertained the secret propositions of the Emperor
Charles, who had formed a plan to sell Siena, and several
other Tuscan cities, to the Pope. Charles needed money
above all things; he had left his crown of gold in pawn
with the Florentines for one thousand six hundred florins,
and was anxious to redeem it. The city of Siena, which
he was plotting to betray, had already lent him a large
sum of money. Seeing that he could count on the
alliance of the party of the Twelve, and of the numerous
tribe of the Salimbeni, who had deserted the side of
the nobles and joined the Twelve, he marched towards
Siena, and haughtily demanded that the great Castle of
Talamone, and four other strong fortresses surrounding
Siena, should be delivered up to him. These fortresses,
and especially that of Talamone, were the necessary de-
fences of the Sienese against attacks from without. The

Bepuhlican Fidorij. 61

government of the Eeforniers rejected the demand. Diplo-
macy having failed, Charles resorted to force. In January,
1369, the party of the Twelve and the Salimbeni had offered
a direct insult to three members of the new government,
and endeavoured to drive them out of the Pallazzo Pubblico ;
at the same moment the Emperor, armed from head to
foot, marched with his German troops to the aid of his
representative, Malatesta Unghero ; the Cardinal Guy de
Montfort, who had come to collect the spoils of treason,
rodo by Charles's side. The Reformers stood firm ; they
sounded the tocsin, and the " Captain of the People,"
Mattenio Menzano, made a dashing attack upon the
German army. The enraged people joined in the fray;
Malatesta and his troop were driven back. The Emperor,
who had advanced as far as the Croce del Travaglio, was
impetuously attacked by the artisan militia ; his Germans
took to flight after some hard fighting, and he himself took
refuge in the palace of the Tolomei ; for seven hours he de-
fended himself there, until the slain of both parties choked
up the entrances and the streets near the palace. He was
finally forced from this retreat into the stronger castle of
the Salimbeni. Towards evening a complete victory was
proclaimed for the Republic. The honour of this ^^ctory
belongs to the illustrious plebeian Menzano, the captain,
or tribune, of the people. Menzano was a man justly
esteemed, even by his foes. Malavolti, the chronicler of
Siena, and a noble, remarks, with aristocratic insolence,
*' This man, Menzano, although a plebeian, was a man of
a great soul, and very valiant." Menzano entreated the
Emperor to quit the city, and "in order to render this
entreaty more efficacious, he published, with sound of.

62 Catharine of Siena.

trumpet, a declaration forbidding anyone to furnish Charles
or his soldiers with food." Neri di Donato, a contem-
porary plebeian historian, gives the following account of
the humiliation of Charles: "The Emperor was alone in
the Salimbeni Palace, a prey to the most abject fear. The
eyes of the whole people were turned upon him ; he wept,
he sobbed, he apologized, he embraced everyone who
came near him, protesting that he had been betrayed by
Malatesta, by the Salimbeni, by the Twelve. ... At
the same time he was treating, as well as he could, with the
government and the people alike, offering freely his for-
giveness, and many more favours than anyone asked of
him. Trembling from head to foot, and half dead with
hunger, he seemed to have lost his head ; he wished to get
away, but could not, having neither horses nor money.
Menzano then restored to Charles a portion of what he had
lost. Scarcely had this relief been accorded him when
Charles regained a degree of his old assurance, and de-
manded, in consideration of the aflfronts he had endured
and the favours he had granted, a sum of twenty thousand
florins, payable in four years. The Sienese consented, and
flung him the first year's contribution on the spot, on condi-
tion that he would leave the city that moment, which he did."
The Sienese had fought nobly for their liberties, and
against imperial treachery ; it was long, however, before
the agitation subsided, and the citizens could return to
their industrial occupations. Such was the great revolu-
tion which confirmed the freedom of the Republic in the
days of Catharine of Siena, and during which she was more
than once summoned by her fellow-citizens to act as a
pacificator.

Industrial Disturbance in Siena. 63

These revolutions which had their heroic side, had also
their bad side. They tended to estrange from each other the
different classes of citizens. The "Popolo Minuto," or class
of the Inferior Arts, were the first to suffer : political strife
invaded the workshops and created suspicion between the
working people and the manufacturers. The workmen in
the manufactories of woollen stuffs revolted against their
employers ; they demanded a greater share in public affairs,
and formed themselves into a band or trades-union, which
was foremost in acts of violence during this revolution. A
long conflict between the Great Arts and the Inferior Arts
ensued, the last act of the drama being the execution of the
Captain of the people and the Gonfalonier of the city in
1371. Commerce was almost ruined, and a great number
of families emigrated, carrying their industries to other
cities : amongst others, the family of Catharine went to
establish their art in Florence ; her three brothers, Benin-
casa, Bartolommeo, and Stephen, appear to have settled in
Florence on the death of their father, which occurred dur-
ing these times of commercial depression. The widowed
Lapa, with Catharine, and some others of the family,
remained in the old house at Siena ; Catharine's niece, the
eldest daughter of Benincasa, although still very young,
was esteemed sufficiently skilful and prudent to take the
management of a Fullonica, or wool-dyer's establishment,
in Siena. Possibly she carried on a portion of the business
in her grandfather's premises, when her father migrated to
Florence ; or she may have opened an establishment of her
own. Many of Catharine's letters during this period are
addressed to her three brothers in Florence, from her own
little room in Siena.

64- Catharine of Siena.

Another unfavourable result of these popular revolutions
was the gradual extinction of the nobility of the Apennines,
which was a valuable element in Tuscan life. That nobility
served to curb the excesses of the democracy of the cities ;
(this is acknowledged by Tommasi and other democratic
historians) ; they offered an asylum to all citizens banished
for their opinions, they encouraged tiie cultivation of the
soil, and endowed the Republic with a flourishing agricul-
ture.i Many of these noble families were of a character
worthy of their high descent ; some of them lived in great
simplicity and virtue, having profited by the lessons of
adversity learned in their exile. Dante has immortalized
the chivalrous Salvani, who came down one day from his
mountain home, and appeared in the great square of Siena,
where, forcibly repressing his native pride, he kneeled down,
and continued kneeling until by his humble attitude he had
moved the proud people to release from political imprison-
ment a blood relation of his own. The people, touched by
his prayers, threw down before him, piece by piece, the ten
thousand florins of gold required for the prisoner's ransom.
Dante, with his own proud soul bitterly wounded by unjust
exile, has well described the repressed scorn and the mortal
" trembling in the veins " of the proud gentleman forced to
beg for so touching and so honourable a cause. ^

The chief biographer of Catharine records concerning
her, that apparently about the year 1364 or 1365, "the
Lord engaged her little by little to mix herself up with
her brethren and sisters in this earthly exile." The first
charge given to her by her divine guide in regard to her

1 Cbavin de Malan. 2 Purgatorio, xi.

She fears to leave her Solitude. 65

entrance into active life, would not seem to us a very for-
midable one : " Go, quickly, ray daughter," the divine
monitor said, "it is the hour of the family repast ; join thy
parents and thy family ; remain with them, and I will be
with thee." But Catharine had lived so long in solitude,
that to her mind such a step appeared as a very grave one,
as an exchange of a life of perpetual pi'ayer for one of
dangerous and worldly interests and occupations. The
family was very numerous; and several of her father's
apprentices lodged in the house. There was much busy
life at the Fullonica, much coming and going, and constant
intercourse with workmen, traders, and manufacturers of
Siena and other cities. Catharine burst into tears on hearing
this injunction of her Lord. "Wherein have I offended
thee, my God ? " she cried, " that thou dost send me from
thee ] What should I do at table 1 It is not by bread
alone that man lives : are not the words that proceed out of
thy mouth far better to impart vigour and energy to the
soul of a pilgrim ? Thou knowest better than I that I fled
from the society of men that I might find thee, my Lord
and my God; and must I now mingle anew in worldly affairs,
to fall again into my former Avorldliness and stupidity, and
perhaps offend against thee V Then the Lord answered her.
The answer, she told her confessor in reply to his question-
ing, " was not given in these very words ; but these," she
said, "are the things which he made me to understand as
the expression of his will concerning me." The words,
(given as translated from the "Acta Sanctorum" of the
BoUandists), were as follows: " Be calm, my child ; thou
must accomplish all justice, that my grace may become
fruitful in thee and in others. I desire not that thou

F

66 Cathanne of Siena.

shouldst be separated from me ; on the contrary, I desire
that thou shouldst become more closely united to me by
charity towards thy fellow creatures. Thou knowest that
love has two commandments, to love me and to love thy
neighbour. I desire that thou shouldst Avalk, not on one,
but on two feet, and fly to heaven on two wings. Call to
mind that from thy infancy I have encouraged thee by my
spirit in zeal for the salvation of souls. This zeal increased
in thy heart so much, that thou didst wish to disguise thyself
as a man, to enter into the order of preachers, and go forth
into foreign countries, so that thou mightest become useful
to souls. Why then dost thou wonder and grieve if I now
lead thee to that which thou hast desired from thy child-
hood ? " Then Catharine answered : " Lord, not my will,
but thine be done ; for I am only darkness and thou art all
light. But I beseech thee, 0 Lord, if I presume not too
much, how shall that be done which thou hast said, and how
can I, who am so miserable and so fragile, be useful to my
fellow creatures 1 for my sex is an obstacle, as thou, Lord,
knowest, through many causes, as well because it is con-
temptible in men's eyes, as because propriety forbids me any
freedom of converse with the other sex." To whom the
Lord, as the angel Gabriel to Mary: "The word impossible
belongeth not to God : am not I he who created the human
race, who formed both man and woman ? I pour out the
favour of my spirit on whom I will. With me there is
neither male nor female, neither plebeian nor noble, but all
are equal before me ; and I can do all things equally well ;
it is as easy for me to create an angel as the lowest insect,
the whole host of heaven as one worm. It is written
concerning me that I have done Avhatsoever I will; and

She is directed towards an Active Life. 67

nothing that is intelligible can be impossible to me. Why,
therefore, dost thou ponder concerning how this thing is to
be done ? Dost thou think that I cannot accomplish
what I have resolved upon 1 But, inasmuch as I know that
thou hast spoken thus, not because of faithlessness, but
through humility, I will answer thee. I desire thee then
to know that at the present time the pride of man has
become so great — especially in those who esteem themselves
to be learned and wise— that my justice can no longer bear
M'iih them, and is about to visit them with a just chastise-
ment. But, because I love mercy, and because my pity is
ever over all my works, I will first send to them a salutary
and useful confusion, that they may acknowledge their
error and humble themselves ; even as I did with the Jews
and Gentiles when I sent them simple persons filled by me
with divine wisdom. Yes, I will send to them women,
unlearned, and by nature fragile, but filled by my grace
with courage and power, for the confusion of their froward-
ness. If they acknowledge their error and humble
themselves, I will cause my pity and mercy to increase
towards them, that is, towards those who shall receive with
reverence my messengers, and obey my teaching conveyed
to them by these frail but chosen vessels. But if they
contemn this rebuke designed for their healing, I will visit
them with so many humiliations that they will become a
by-word to the whole world ; for herein is the most just
and most frequent punishment of the proud, that Avhereas
they, carried away by the wind of their pride, seek to
exalt themselves above themselves, they are cast down,
and fall even below themselves. Wherefore, my daughter,
do thou make haste to obey me, without further hesitation,

f2

68 Calhanne of Siena.

for I have a mission for thee to fulfil, and it is my will
that thou appear before the public. Wheresoever thou
mayest go in the future, I will be with thee ; I will never
leave thee, but will visit thee, and direct all thy actions."
Catharine, prostrsiting herself at the feet of her Redeemer,
replied, "Behold the hand-maiden of the Lord; be it unto
me even as thou wilt." She then immediately quitted her
cell, and joined her family as God had commanded her.

After an apprenticeship in active duty in her father's
house, where she was the ever-ready and joyous servant
of all, she began to visit and relieve the poor of Siena.
There was at that time no public or organized charity;
neither was there in Siena any considerable destitute
class ; yet there, as everywhere and at all times, there
were individuals and families reduced to sore distress by
sickness, the chances of war, or other misfortune. Catha-
rine, it is said, " had the gift of discernment, giving only
to those whom she knew had a real need, and in such
cases she did not wait to be asked to give." There were
some poor families in her neighbourhood reduced to great
poverty, who would never solicit alms. She used to rise
early every morning, and leaving her father's door at the
first sound of the great bell of the Pallazzo Pubblico, (for
it was forbidden to the people of Siena to leave their
houses before this signal was given), she would carry to the
dwellings of these poor people what would serve them
for the day's necessities, and lifting her gift through the
opening in the upper part of the door, which, in summer,
the poorer people used generally to leave open for cool-
ness, she would pray for God's blessing on the house, and
glide quickly away in the cool shadows of the early

She serves tlie Poor. 69

morning, leaving the sleeping inmates ignorant of who
their daily benefactor might be. What she had to bestow
being exhausted, she sought her father, and asked him if she
might deduct, according to her conscience, the portion of
the poor from the ample means which he had realized by his
industry. Giacomo cheerfully consented, because he saw
clearly that his daughter " was walking in the way of per-
fection ; " he announced to his assembled family the per-
mission he had granted. " Let no one," he said, " prevent
my beloved child from bestowing our goods on the poor. I
grant her full liberty ; indeed, she may, if she likes, dis-
pense all that is in the house." Catharine made use almost
too literally of the generous permission of her father, so
much so, that "all the inmates of the house, her father
excepted, complained of her donations, and locked up what
they had that she might not distribute it to the poor."

I have spoken of the favour and affection with which
Catharine was regarded by her fellow-citizens ; but this
favour was the reward of her long perseverance in well-
doing, and of her own sweet, unfailing charity, extended,
during many years, to her enemies as well as friends.
The goodwill of society is easily and quickly won by
those who maintain an amiable and harmless mediocrity
in virtue ; but those who are inspired and enabled to rise
above the ordinary standard of excellence, or who step
beyond the conventional limits of what is commonly
esteemed becoming and consistent, run the risk of incur-
ring more or less, for a time at least, the displeasure of
society. Their sternness of virtue seems to rebuke the
lower attainments of others ; and it is more frequently
among the pious and the good that their critics and

70 Catharine of Siena.

detractors are to be found than among the ignorant and
erring multitude. In the history of the Thebiad it is re-
lated that a young man in secular clothing presented himself
at the gate of a great monastery under the direction of St.
Pacomius. He was invited to enter the community, but the
extraordinary austerity of his life, and his exalted spiiitu-
ality, so frightened the other monks, who were at that time
also men of austere lives, that they revolted against the
superior, and came in a body one day to tell him that un-
less he immediately dismissed this monk they would one and
all leave the monastery that very day. In like manner a
kind of revolt broke out for a time among the Dominicans
of Siena and the friends and neighbours of Catharine, on
account of the singularity of her life of painful self-denial.
" Everyone murmtired against her," says Raymond ; "some
spoke against her fasting, and said, ' I warrant you she
feeds herself well enough in secret ; ' others said that all
the saints had taught l)y their word and example that we
should never be singular in our way of living ; others said
that all excess, even excess in self-denial, is vicious, and
that such as fear God should avoid it ; some declared that
they respected her intentions, but believed her to be the
victim of dangerous illusions ; others, again, more coarf^e
and vulgar, calumniated her publicly, and declared con-
tinually that she was actuated by mere vanity, which
prompted her to wish for notice." ..." She scarcely
could at this time attend any public exercise of piety
without drawing on herself the censures of those who
ought to have been her defenders." ^ . . . "It was
especially odious to those religious professors in whom
^ Raymond, Part il , Chap. iv.

The Juirsh Judgment of Society. 71

self-love was not wholly conquered, that one so younsj
should surpass all others by the severity of her morals and
the fervour of her prayers. If they allowed her to go to
Communion, they demanded that she should finish her
prayers immediately, and leave the church."^ It very often
happened that Catharine " fell into an ecstasy " while en-
gaged in prayer. She became absorbed in the contempla-
tion of heavenly things, and lost to all sense of the world
around her. When in this rapt state of contemplation, her
soul would seem to leave her body, and she sometimes
became for a time quite insensible to all that was passing
around her. On one such occasion Raymond found her in
the church " ravished out of her senses," and heard her
saying, in an undertone in Latin, " Vidi arcana Dei " (I
have seen the secrets of God). She continued to repeat
these words some time after, when she had returned to her
house. Raymond asked her, " Why do you repeat these
words 1 Can you not speak to us of some of the glorious
things you have seen % " She replied that it was impossible :
*' The distance is so vast between what my spirit contem-
plated when God caught up my soul to himself, and what I
could descriljc to you in human language, that I should feel
I was falsifying what I saw in speaking of it ; all I can say
is that I saw ineffable things." Like St. Paul, she was
caught up to the seventh heaven, and " saw things which it
is unlawful for a man to utter." On one of these occasions
she was observed by some of her detractors, rudely carried
out of the church, and brutally flung down upon the church
steps in a state of insensibility, these persons protesting
against her "illusions," and pretending to believe that
1 Raymond, Part ii., Chap. iv.

72 Catharine of Siena.

harsh measures might prove a sahitary cure for them.
Eaymond came to the spot, and found two or three of
her female friends bending over her under the burning
rays of the noonday sun, weeping, chafing her hands,
and waiting for her return to consciousness. Catharine
herself never spoke of this or any ill-treatment she re-
ceived. During this time she also suffered much in health,
especially from severe headache, and a continual and some-
times violent pain in her side, accompanied by extreme thirst.
Catharine was the first young girl who had ever been
enrolled as a sister of St. Dominic. She was not much more
than sixteen when she first appeared on her errands of mercy
in the garb of a Mantellata. From the age of eighteen to
twenty she became constantly engaged more and more in
many and varied active labours and offices of charity. The
courage and originality of mind required in her time to set
aside the maxims of traditional propriety were beyond what
we can at this day easily imagine. Among the Greeks and
Komans in ancient times, the highest praise that could be
bestowed on a woman was that " she was never seen out of
her own house," and the Christian tradition had been so
far in accordance with the heathen one : the Apostle had
commanded that the young women should be " keepers
at home." Monastic ideas and customs in the middle
ages had strengthened this tradition in prescribing but
one alternative for the young maiden, marriage or the
cloister. Yet despite the minute directions of the Apostle
Paul, wise and prudent, no doubt, for the state of the
society in which he lived, the germs of all true free-
dom which dwelt in the doctrine and teaching of Christ
slowly became fruitful in this direction, and to those who

Acts the part of a Peace-maker. 73

waited upon God, as Catharine did, for direct personal
guidance, the path before them gradually widened into
greater freedom, and the sphere of responsibility and duty
presented itself more largely, and was judged by them
more courageously and directly, apart from conventional
traditions.

It is not to be wondered at, however, that even in repub-
lican and liberty-loving Siena the conduct of the youthful
Mantellata should have been severely judged ; there can be
no doubt that the discipline this severe judgment involved
for Catharine led her more fully to know herself and her
motives, while it fortified her character. She had already
begun to act, in stormy scenes, the part of a peace-maker.
During the revolution of 1368, the artisans, as Ave have
seen, were often at variance with their employers ; Catha-
rine on several occasions sought to reconcile the contending
parties and to persuade each to make concessions ; she was
also frequently entreated by the wives of banished nobles
to visit them in their chateaux near Siena, to advise in
difficulty and console in adversity. Full of loving kindness
and simplicity of purpose, she obeyed all such calls Avithout
hesitation. One of her contemporaries records that he
" had seen her address a multitude of tAvo thousand persons
in the streets," beseeching them for the love of Jesus to be
at peace Avith each other, and to search each one his own
heart to discover there any lurking egotism, and give up
any selfish demand Avhich could only be gratified at the
expense of his neighbour. "Those Avho could not hear
her voice Avere moved even to tears by the beaming
charity and sweetness of her countenance while she spoke
and pleaded."

74 Catharme of Siena.

The first intimation Catharine received that evil reports
were circulated against her was from the mouth of a poor
beggar woman called Tecca, whom she nursed when deserted
by everyone else. Tecca was a leper, and had been con-
demned, as was the custom, to be carried outside the walls
of the city to a kind of pest-house. Catharine heard of it
and the tears filled her eyes; she exclaimed, "This dear
one also was redeemed by my Saviour. He loves her ; she
shall not be cast forth thus." She had her placed in a
hospital where she herself waited on her till she died. This
poor ignorant woman, however, ill-requited her benefac-
tress. Catharine was a few minutes late one morning in
arriving at the hospital. Tecca lost her temper and taunted
her, saying, "Good morning, my lady, queen of the Con-
trada d'Oca ; you love to stay all day in the church of the
Dominican friars, don't you ! it is there you waste your
time, my fine lady; you are never tired of those dear friars!"
A sudden blush covered Catharine's face, for she heard
in the poor woman's words an echo of what was falling
from many idle or spiteful tongues ; but she kept silence
and continued to minister to the leper to the last. Much
more serious were the reproaches of Andrea, one of the
Sisters of St. Dominic, who also was tenderly nursed by
Catharine when dying of a frightful cancer. The disease
was so repelling that no one could be found to wait on
Andrea. As soon as Catharine knew tliis, "she compre-
hended that God had reserved for hei- this poor forsaken
one, and hastened to comfort her." According to liay-
mond, "the devil blinded this afflicted woman, and so
far succeeded in filling her with malice against Catharine
that she publicly calumniated her ; " she was, however,

Assailed by Slander. 75

only the exponent of the injurious opinion which had
been gaining strength in many minds against the young
Mantellata.

These slanders gained ground so much that the elder
and more experienced of the Sisters of St. Dominic formed
themselves into a kind of committee of inquiry to examine
into the matter. Some of the sisters addressed to Catharine
during the inquiry very cruel and cutting remarks ; at last
the chief among them requested her to reply and say how
it was that she had suffered herself to be seduced. Catharine
replied patiently and gently, "I assure you, ladies and dear
sisters, that by the grace of Jesus Christ, I am innocent.
I am, indeed I am, a virgin." She appears to have taken
this trial less to heart than many others which assailed her ;
yet she was observed to dwell more alone at this time in
her secret chamber, and to be constantly in prayer. Her
friend Alessia, who always maintained her part, overheaid
her in prayer, pleading thus with her Lord : " Thou
knowest, 0 my Saviour, the efforts of the ' father of lies '
to hold me back from what thy love urges me to undertake;
help me, then, 0 my Lord and my God, for thou knowest
I am innocent ; and suffer not the evil one to prevail
against me." Having poured out her soul to God, "her
Saviour appeared to her, holding two crowns, one of gold
and another of thorns, and bidding her choose which she
would. She took the crown of thorns and pressed it on
her own head. After this time she was filled with a
greater joy than ever, and her countenance was always
radiant and covered with smiles, so that all men won-
dered at her secret joy, seeing how many pains and trials
she had."

76 Catharine of Siena.

Palmerina, a distinguished lady of Siena, had publicly
consecrated all her great wealth to God, and joined the
sisterhood of St. Dominic. She had a noble nature, but
a strange jealousy of Catharine entered her mind, and,
yielding to it more and more, she became like one possessed.
So great was her hatred of Catharine that she could not
hear her name mentioned without becoming violent, and
took every occasion of speaking against her. The fact
became notorious, and Catharine frequently heard men
speak of it. It filled her with grief ; she shut herself up in
her room, and had recourse, as always, to prayer. "Lord
God," she said, " wilt thou suffer that I should be the
oqpasion of loss to a soul which thou hast created so nobly 1
Is this the good that thou hast promised to effect by me t
No doubt my sins have been the cause of it, but I will con-
tinue to claim thy mercy for my sister, till thou savest the
soul of that beloved one from sin and death." Her prayers
were heard. Palmerina sent for her, and with a changed
heart and an abundance of generous tears, asked her for-
giveness. Moreover, she would not rest until she had
proclaimed publicly her error, and the blamelessness of
Catharine. Catharine had been impressed by seeing this
generous soul under so dark a cloud, so distorted and dis-
figured, so to speak, by malign influences ; and she prayed
earnestly that God would grant to her the special favour
of being able in future, under all circumstances, to see
spiritually the oeauty of every human soul, and to discern
the truth through all exterior appearances. " Thus she,
giving thanks to God, humbly prayed with her whole
heart that he would grant her the favour that she might
always see the beauty of the soul of everyone who con-

Controversy loith Society. 77

versed with her, in order that she might thus be the more
fired to procure their salvation."^ She added, when re-
counting these things to Raymond, " 0 Father, could you
but see the beauty of a rational soid, you would sacrifice
your life a hundred times, were it necessary, for its salva-
tion." From this time she showed a wonderful discernment,
and was able to see the truth concerning those who came to
her, through all outward disguise or appearances.

The fault-finding of neighbours, however, did not cease,
and her confessor, who was at that time Father Thomas
della Fonte, a reverend and good man, was so far influ-
enced by all he heard around him as to think it his duty
to take Catharine severely to task, and to ask her to
moderate her fasts and her prayers, and to live a little
more like other people. This seems to have been a great
addition to her trials. Though she had "learned all
that she knew from God alone," and w^as accustomed to
take refuge at all times in prayer, yet she was too dutiful
and right-minded not to feel troubled by the rebukes of
her friend and confessor. A long controversy with him
ended, however, by his admitting that she was right ; he
said to her, " Henceforth act accordingly to the inspira-
tions of the Holy Ghost ; for I perceive that (lod will ac-
complish great things in you." Father Raymond, whose
narrative is usually dry and tedious, and who seems
rarely to be carried away by undue enthusiasm, sums up
his account of these conflicts between Catharine and her
critics with the following burst of eloquence and honest
emotion •} " They who surrounded her measured not her

1 "Acta Sanctorum," BoUandists.

78 Catharine of Siena.

■words and deeds by God's rule, but by their own. They,
dwelling in the valley, presumed to judge of the tops of
the mountains; they ignored principles, yet discoursed pru-
dently about results ; they disturbed themselves unreason-
abl}'', and blamed the rays of that radiant star; they desired
to direct her whose lessons they themselves could not even
understand."

I will not dwell on the accounts given by her biographers
of the long internal conflict of that humble courageous
soul, on the wondrous visions granted to her, and her ever-
deepening experience of the power of God and of the love
of Christ, Avhich passeth knowledge. Catharine's own
Dialogue and letters must be read by those who desire to
become further acquainted with her inner life, her doctrine,
and the secret of her sustained communion with God. About
this time, when emerging from the period of trial arising
from the narrow criticisms of those Avho did not yet know
the secret of her power, nor understand the awful simplicity
of the one sustaining motive of her life, she was admitted
into a fresh spiritual baptism ; peace, strength, and con-
fidence were renewed and increased ; she saw, heard, and
conversed with her Lord; the path she ought to tread was
revealed, plain and straight before her, and she had only to
obey that beloved voice which spoke to her heart. " One
day when she was praying in her little room, the Lord
appeared to her and said to her, 'Learn, my daughter, that
henceforth thy life shall be filled with such wonders that
ignorant and sensual men will refuse to believe them ;
many even of those who are attached to thee will doubt
thee; thy heart shall become so ardent for the salvation
of men that thou shalt forget thy sex and all its fears ;

Again receives a Commission. 79

thou shalt no more avoid, as formerly, the conversation of
men, but thou shalt cheerfully endure every kind of fatigue
to save their souls ; thy conduct will scandalize many ; but
be not afraid ; I will be ever with thee, and deliver thee
from the deceitful tongue and from them that speak falsely ;
follow, therefore, courageously my inspiration, for I will
draw, by thy aid, many souls from destruction, and guide
them to my kingdom in heaven.' " And again, at a time
when Catharine had been so ill as to believe herself to be
dying, being absorbed in deep contemplation, Christ said to
her : " Keturn, my daughter, to life ; for the salvation of
many souls demands it. Thou shalt no longer live as thou
hast done ; thou must leave the retirement of thy chamber,
and continually pass through the city, in order to save souls.
I will be with thee continually ; in thy going out and in thy
coming in 1 will lead thee. I will entrust to thee the
honour of my holy name, and thou shalt speak of me to
the lowly and the great, to the multitude, to seculars,
priests, and monks. I will impart to thee speech and wis-
dom, which none can resist; thou shalt stand before kings
and rulers and pontiffs for my name's sake ; for thus, and
by this means, Avill I bring low the arrogance of the
mighty ! "i

Catharine answered : " Thou art my God ; I am but thy
poor handmaid ; may thy will ever be accomplished in me ;
but remember me, my Lord, and ever incline unto my aid,
according to the greatness of thy mercy."

1 "Acta Sanctorum."

CHAPTER IV.

One of the greatest of the evils which prevailed in
the age in which Catharine lived was the spirit of strife
and discord which reigned everywhere, not only in the
country at large, but between rival families and factions
in every commune and every province. The history of
the Italian republics is one long record of personal jea-
lousies, family feuds, and civil wars. It is evident from
Catharine's letters that she did not shrink from strife and
conflict in any case where the establishment of true peace
involved a struggle between opposing principles; yet she
saw in the actual strife around her only elements which
were hostile to all true progress towards that advent of
Christ on earth for which she laboured. She continually
urged the necessity of war with evil, and in many forcible
passages in her letters, she reminded the restless and am-
bitious spirits with whom she pleaded that it was impos-
sible they should rightly govern others until they had
learned to govern themselves ; she declared that their
rivalries, animosities, and lust of power were a sign of
weakness and not of strength ; while she prophesied to
them that those among them who were then striving to
be the greatest would eventually take the lowest position.

A Minisier to Prisoners and Outcasts. 81

Her words were very remarkably fulfilled in many in-
stances. She continually laboured to inspire her own
chosen friends with a cheerful and holy calm in the midst
of the political agitations continually renewed around them.
She wrote to Monna Mitarella, the wife of the Senator
Mugliano, whose life was in danger during one of the
Sienese revolutions : " It seems to me you have both been
in great fear, but that you have placed your hope in God
and in the power of prayer. I entreat you in the name of
Jesus to continue firm in this sweet and steadfast peace.
My sister, fear nothing that men can do ; fear God only."
To the proud and unhappy wife of Duke Bernabos Visconti
she wrote beseeching her to exercise a spirit of trust and
humility, so that the cruel and stormy spirits of those
among whom she dwelt might recognize the power in her
of that peace which is founded on the Rock of Ages. She-
was often called to mediate between hostile families ; she
visited regularly the prisons of the city, comforted and
sometimes procured the release of political prisoners, and in
her walks through the city she would track the steps of
the poor outcast woman, ask to be allowed to enter her
dwelling with her, and, embracing her tenderly and frankly,
would sit down by her side and plead with her concerning
the beauty of that soul which was in peril of eternal death.
One of her letters, addressed to "a woman of the city
who was a sinner," reveals more than any other, perhaps,
the gift which she had asked, and which had been granted
to her, of seeing the loveliness of human nature evert in
its utmost degradation. " I weep, my child, and am full
of sorrow because thou, created in the image of God, and
redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, regardest not

G

82 Catharine of Siena.

thy own dignity. Return, I entreat thee, as a daughter
and a servant redeemed, to the wounded side of the Son
of God."i The families of the Tolomei and the Malavolti
have been mentioned in the record of the political troubles
of Siena. Over both of these families Catharine exercised
a great influence. The eldest son of the family Tolomei,
a licentious young man, "whose hand, though so young,
had been twice imbrued in the blood of his neighbour,"
became, under her influence, a sincere convert, and perse-
vered in virtue till his death. His two beautiful and
worldly sisters gave up all the frivolities they had de-
lighted in, and became active coadjutors of Catharine in the
" Militia of Jesus Christ." The younger brothers followed
in the steps of their elder brother and sisters, and their
gentle mother, Rabes, whose prayers had been unceasing
for the salvation of her children, called for Catharine and
blest her, in great joy pronouncing the words : " Now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation." The house of the Malavolti
fell under the blight of its own haughty and licentious
character. Several of Catharine's letters, addressed to
Agnesa, the widow of Orso Malavolti, reveal the melan-
choly story of that lady's trials. Her son, Antonio, was
beheaded in 1372 for a shameful outrage on a young
girl, in which foul deed he was abetted by his cousin,
Deo di Veri Malavolti. The widow Agnesa never again
quitted her solitary home, but she sought for and cherished

^ "Pcro figliuola mia io piaugo e doglioini che tu, creata alia
imagine di Dio, ricomperata del pretioso saugue suo, non raguardi
la tua dignitk. Tu, come figliuola e serva ricomperata di sangue,
entra allora nelle piaghe del figliuolo di Dio. — Lettera a una
meretrice, Lett. 373.

Intercession for the Ening. 83

the poor girl who had been the victim of her son's
licentiousness. Catharine writes to the widowed lady :
" I think God is calling you to a great perfection in thus
severing you from earthly ties. I understand that you
have called to you this child. It pleases me much that
God should have thus chosen you, and drawn her out of
so much trouble." Another of the family, young Francis
Malavolti, " a youth of noble birth," says Eaymond, " but
of contemptible manners," was taken by one of his father's
friends to visit Catharine. He frequently came to talk
with her, " enjoyed her salutary lessons, but would return
to his former habits, especially to gambling, of which he
was passionately fond." Catharine prayed earnestly for
his salvation, but he gave her much trouble, and tested
severely her patience and hoj)efulness. She wrote to him :
" You come to see me, and then, like an untamed bird, you
fly back to your vices ; fly as often as you please, but the
time will come when God will enable me to throw a noose
round your neck which will prevent your ever escaping
again." After many warnings to the irresolute youth,
she concludes : " Come back, come back, my dearest son !
I may well call thee dear, so much hast thou cost me
ia tears, and prayers, and bitter grief." Catharine died
before her prayer was answered ; but after her death
Francis gave up his evil habits ; great domestic trials
subdued his heart, and he became steadfast in the service
of God. Andrea di Nandino, a rich citizen, "a gambler,
and addicted to every vice," was induced by the earnest
entreaties of his wife and children to listen to the words
of Catharine, but for a very long time he continued hard
and unmoved. Then Catharine, seeing she could not

g2

84 Catharine of Siena.

prevail with him, addressed herself to God alone. She con-
tinued for a whole night to plead for this soul. " Kemember,
Lord," she said, "that thou didst promise to aid me in
saving souls. I have no other joy in life than that of
seeing them return to thee. Didst thou not, 0 loving
Jesus, bear this man's sins with ours 1 0 restore to me
my brother, and draw him out of his hardened state."
Andrea was soon after smitten with remorse for his sins,
and became " a new creature in Christ Jesxis."

Catharine was spending some hours one day in the house
of her dearest friend and fellow-worker, Alessia, Avho was
also a Mantellata. Alessia, happening to look out of the
window, saw, at a distance, a great crowd approaching, and
in the midst a cart, in which were chained two notorious
brigands, who were being taken from prison to the place of
execution. They were condemned to have their flesh torn
with hot pincers, and then to be beheaded. The first part of
the sentence was actually being executed in the sight of the
multitude, whose shouts mingled with the agonized cries of
the tortured men. Hearing Alessia's cry of horror, Catharine
went to the window and looked out. She turned away, and
fell on her knees, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and
thus, as Alessia records, she cried to the Lord : " Ah, Lord,
who art so full of pity, abandon not in their hour of agony
these poor creatures of thine, redeemed by thy precious
blood. The thief who was crucified by thy side was visited
by thy grace and confessed thee publicly, and to him thou
didst sa)'^, ' This day shalt thou be with me in paradise.' In
that word thou didst give hope to all who might resemble
him. Thou didst not abandon Peter when he denied
thee ; thou didst not despise Mary the sinner, nor Matthew

Vaniii the Painter. 85

the publican, nor the Canaanite, but didst invite them to
thee. I entreat thee by all thy mercies, Lord, hasten to
relieve these souls." Catharine obtained leave to accompany
the criminals as far as the city gates ; she prayed and wept
continually. When the cart containing the criminals halted
at the city gate, " a ray of divine light penetrated the hearts
of the two unhappy men ; " they expressed an earnest desire
to make full confession, and when the man of God came to
them, they wept and expressed heartfelt sorrow for their
crimes ; they accused themselves and prayed aloud to the
Redeemer that he would wash aAvay their sins and receive
their souls ; they then marched onward to death with
countenances full of frankness and joy. They spoke gently
to their executioners, and gave thanks to God ; their
torturers themselves were deeply affected, and dropped their
horrid instruments, not daring to continue their cruelties.

There dwelt in Siena a painter of great genius called
Vanni. As was so common among his countrymen, he
harboured a secret hatred against certain persons whom he
deemed dangerous rivals or enemies, and he had more than
once satisfied his vengeance by striking in the dark. Several
assassinations had been perpetrated at his instigation; he
was wily and hypocritical in his treatment of those who
tried to mediate between him and the objects of his hatred.
Catharine heard of him often, and desired earnestly to
arrest him in his evil course, and to save those who might
become his victims ; but he carefully avoided her. A
venerable man. Friar William of England, living in Siena,
and whose portrait Vanni seems to have painted, pressed
him much to see Catharine ; he at last consented sullenly,
refusing to pledge himself to follow any advice she might

86 CatJiarine of Siena.

give him. " I myself," says Eaymond, " was at the
Fullonica, waiting for Catharine, who was occupied some-
where in the city in the salvation of souls, when Vanni
arrived. I went to meet him with a glad heart, told him of
her absence, and pressed him to wait a little ; and, to
beguile the time, I introduced him into her little room.
After ten minutes or so, Vanni grew weary, and said list-
lessly, ' I promised Friar William I would call on this ladj',
but she is absent, and my work makes it impossible for me
to stay longer; be so kind as to excuse me to her.' I was
much distressed at Catharine's absence, and in order to
detain him I began to speak of reconciliation with one's
enemies ; but he interrupted me, saying, ' See, now, you
are a priest and a religious man, and this good lady has a
great reputation for sanctity ; I must not deceive you, and
therefore I tell you frankly that I do not mean to do
anything of the kind which you advise me ; it is useless to
preach to me on this subject ; you will gain nothing by it.
It is already a great concession on my part to have spoken
to you with so much freedom of Avhat I conceal from others ;
but you will obtain no more ; so do not torment me fur-
ther on the subject.' At that moment Catharine arrived,
and her appearance was evidently as disagreeable to Vanni
as it was welcome to me. As soon as she perceived us
seated in her room she smiled, and received this man
of the world with great grace and kindness. She seated
herself, and inquired the motive of his visit. Vanni
repeated what he had just said to me, declaring that
he would make no concession. She represented to him
with much force and sweetness how much he was his own
enemy, but he hardened his heart against her arguments.

Vanni the Painter. 87

She then retired in order to pray alone, and I conversed
with Vanni so as to gain time. Not many minutes had
expired before he looked up and said to me, ' For politeness
sake I will not refuse her entirely. I have four great
enmities ; I will give up the one which it will give yon
the most satisfaction for me to give up.' He then rose
to go away, but before he had reached the door he
suddenly exclaimed, ' My God ! what a consolation my
heart feels through this one word of peace which I have
uttered ; ' and he added, ' 0 my Lord and my God ! what
power is it which retains and triiamphs over me 1 Yes,
I am vanquished — I confess it. I cannot draw my breath.'
The heart which had been so long bound in the iron
bonds of hatred and sullen revengefulness was stirred to
its depths, and struggling to free itself from that cruel
bondage, it already experienced the sense of approaching
freedom and peace. Catharine again approached him.
He fell on his knees sobbing, and said, ' Dear lady,
behold me ready to do wliatever you desire me relative
to peace and all else. I see now that Satan held me
in chains. I resign myself to your guidance : in pity,
direct my soul.' Catharine regarded him with a joyous
smile, and gave thanks to God. 'Dear brother,' she
said, ' I spoke to you, and you refused to listen ; then
I turned to God, and he has not rejected my petition.'"
Vanni went straightway and was . reconciled with all
his enemies. " For many years after this," (continues
Raymond), " I was Vanni's confessor, and am witness that
he made constant progress in virtue, and that he bore with
resignation some sore trials which befel him through the
hostility of others."

88 Catharine of Siena.

Catharine's labours were so much increased that the
Pope, Gregory XL, to whom a report had been convej^ed of
her good influence, granted to her, by a special bull, three
companions, invested with the powers reserved to bishops,
to accompany her in all her missions, to hear confessions,
and to aid her in her work. One of these was the good
and honest Raymond, so often quoted, an indefatigable
labourer, a simple-hearted Christian, and an excellent man
of business. Every evening after her day's work was over,
Catharine, says Raymond, went up the hill, rejoicing, to the
old Dominican church, and laid at the feet of her Lord and
Saviour the spiritual conquests of the day ; and there she
would remain till the sun had set, and the stars lighted the
sky, absorbed in the contemplation of the love and power
of Christ, and pouring out her soul in prayer for the fuller
accomplishment of the great promise of the Redeemer, the
descent of the Holy Spirit on all flesh. " Breathe on these
slain and they shall live," she cried ; and when, in answer
to her prayers, there was " a shaking " among the multitude
for whom she prayed, she asked again that this multitude
might "stand upon their feet, an exceeding great army;"
and the divine breath was felt, and many that were
spiritually in their graves came forth. " I have seen,"
says Raymond, " thousands of men and women hastening
to her from the tops of the mountains and from all the
country round Siena, as if summoned bj^ a mysterious
trumpet : frequently she was obliged to speak to a great
number of people at once ; sometimes her words did
not reach them, but her very look and presence made
them desire to renounce their sins and become sharers
in the deep peace and joy which shone in her dear face."

The Maliitude gathers round her. 89

" We worked all day," Raymond says, " we heard the con-
fessions of men and women, soiled with every variety of
crime. We sometimes remained fasting until the evening
(having no time to eat) and yet we were not able to receive
all who came. I acknowledge, to my shame, that the mul-
titude was often so great that I was fatigued and depressed ;
but as for Catharine, she never interrupted her prayers and
efforts, but rejoiced continually in conquering souls for
her Master, while she simply recommended her friends,
(Alessia and the other Mantellatas,) to take care of us and
our material Avants, while we held the nets which she knew
so well how to fill. The sight of her consoled us greatly,
and made us forget our fatigues."

Some years after the revolution of 1368, which inaugu-
rated the government of the Reformers, the Sienese repub-
licans, wearied and impoverished by internal strife, too
easily allowed themselves to fall under the rude domina-
tion of certain proud and ambitious plebeians, who sought
out, by means of a system of espionage, all whom they
suspected of disloyalty to their persons and government,
and made use of their administrative powers to secure
their condemnation. Agnolo d'Andrea Avas condemned
to death for not having invited these tyrants to a fete
which he gave in the environs of the city. Catharine was
present at his execution, to impart strength and consola-
tion to the victim ; returning to her cell, she was aroused
by the rushing movement of a crowd, in pursuit of the
Senator Mugliano, whose conduct during the execution
had offended the majesty of the plebeian leaders and
whose life was now threatened. She went boldly forth to
calm, if possible, the multitude, and followed the senator

90 Catharine of Siena.

to his hiding-place to strengthen his faith and rally his
courage. The letters to the wife of this Senator Mugliano
have already been alluded to.

A young knight of Perugia, named Nicola Tuldo, was
accused at this time of having spoken against the govern-
ment, and of having incited his friends at Siena to revolt
against their haiighty and oppressive rule ; he was declared
guilty of high treason and condemned to die. Indignant,
or rather enraged at this unjust and cruel sentence, the
poor young man paced up and down his prison like a caged
lion, driven to desperation. He was too proud to humble
himself and ask pardon ; his turbulent and passionate soul
had carried him far away from the early instructions in
virtue which he had received, and now, proud, wayward,
and sullen, he was left without a ray of hope or Christian
consolation. During his stay at Siena he had often heard
the name of Catharine. "Perhaps," he said to himself,
" this poor girl might save me ; they tell wonderful things
of her conquests of faith and charity ; she would pity me, I
am sure she would, and if I must die, I so young, if I must
leave this life so i\\\\ of brilliant hope for the future, if I must
leave my beloved mother and family at Perugia — Perugia !
0 my country." . . . His jailer, who overheard his broken
utterances, sent a messenger to the Fullonica to ask if
Catharine would come. The rest of the story is told by
Catharine herself, in a letter to Eaymond, then absent
from Siena. (It is one of the very few letters in which
she mentions her own acts.) " I went to visit him whom
you know ; he was very much comforted and consoled ;
he saw Friar Thomas, and confessed, full of humility.
He besought me by the love of God to promise that I

Execidion of Nicola Tuldo. 91

would be with him at the hour of execution ; I promised,
and I have kept my promise. In the morning, before the
bell of the Campanile had sounded, I was with him in the
prison ; he was greatly comforted by my arrival. I went
with him to the holy communion, which till then he hud
never received. He was perfectly submissive to the will of
God, and the only cloud which now rested on his soul was
the fear that lie might not be strong at the last moment.
But the Savioiu* in his infinite mercy so fortified him, and
so inspired him with the desire of his presence, that he con-
tinued to repeat without ceasing, ' Lord, be near me ; Lord,
do not leave me ; if thou wilt be near me, all will be well
with me, and I shall be content ;' and as he prayed thus
he leaned his head upon my breast. I felt a great desire to
shed my blood, with him, for ray beloved Saviour. Long-
ing for this joy, and perceiving that he still had some fear,
I said, ' Courage, my brother beloved, we are soon going to
your heavenly marriage feast ; you are going there bathed
in the precious blood of the Son of God, and with the dear
name of Jesus on your lips— 0 pronounce that name without
ceasing — and I am going to meet you at the place of execu-
tion.' At these words, (think of it, dear father,) every
vestige of fear seemed to leave him, and a great light visited
his heart : he who had before raged and rebelled, now
called the place of justice a holy place ; he seemed filled
with exultation, and asked, ' How comes such grace to be
shown to me? and will you, joy of my soul, indeed await
me at that holy place ! 1 will go there then with a
strong and joyous step, and you will there speak to me
sweet and blessed words of the love of God ] Observe,
father, how changed he now was, to call the place of

"92 Catharine of Siena.

execution a holy place. I went then, to the place of
execution, early, and continued without ceasing to pray.
Before the arrival of the melancholy cortege, I kneeled
down and placed my neck on the scaffold, wishing for
that martyrdom for myself ; but the axe did not respond
to my Avishes ! I prayed earnestly that at the supreme
moment light and peace might he abundantly shed into
the heart of Nicola ; and resting on the promise, * If ye
abide in me, ye shall ask ivhat ye tcill, and it shall be
done,' I asked further that the favour might be granted
to me of seeing in a vision his soul ascend to God. My
heart was so full, and so powerful was the impression
granted to me that this promise would be fulfilled to me,
that in the midst of that vast crowd of people I saw no
one, and heard nothing but the promise. Then Nicola
arrived, walking like a gentle lamb, and laughed for joy
when he saAv me : he turned to me, and asked me to
make on his breast the sign of the cross ; I did so, say-
ing in low voice : ' Go, gentle brother, to your eternal
marriage ; soon you will have entered into the life which
knows no ending.' He kneeled down calmly, and I,
kneeling by his side, placed his neck on the scaffold, and
whispered to him of the Immaculate Lamb. His lips
murmured but two words, ' Jesus' and 'Catharine.' ^ As he
spoke these words, the axe fell, and I caught his head in
my hands. I closed my eyes, and said, ' Lord, / will ;
thou hast promised me what I will ;' and as clear as the
daylight I saw the Son of God receive into his bosom this
dear soul ; full of love and mercy, he received him who

1 "La bocca sua non diceva se non Jesu e Catarina," Letter 97.

Her Niece Eugenia. 93

had so meekly accepted the death of a criminal, received
him not for his own works, but for love's sake alone. . . .
A deep peace fell upon my soul. So dear was that blood to
me that I could not bear that they should ever wash it off
my dress, which was all sprinkled with it. I envied him,
because he had gone on before ; he left us, full of joy and
love, like a bride, who having reached the bridegroom's
door, turns and bows her head in thanks and farewell to the
companions who have accompanied her to the threshold^
and enters the home of her beloved."^

Catharine dwelt in her native city till she was about
twenty-five years of age, at which time she undertook tlio
first of her important missions to other cities ; during this
period, however, she accomplished several evangelizing jour-
neys in the country around Siena, and more than once
visited Monte Pulciano, not far distant from the Lake
Thrasymene, to visit the sisters of the monastery of St.
Agnes of Monte Pulciano, where two of her nieces, the
daughters of her sister Lysa, had been received. To one
of these, Eugenia, a girl of a gay and easy temperament,
Catharine wrote many letters. Reproving her on one
occasion for frivolous conversations of which she had heard
a rumour, Catharine says : " Take care ; if I hear of it
again I shall run to you and administer so severe a dis
cipline that you will never forget it ! Be always self-pos-
sessed and calm. ... If a stranger asks to see you,
and your superior wishes you to respond, go and see him,
in the name of obedience, but waste no time, and show
yourself as savage as a porcupine ! "

1 Some passages of this beautiful letter have been omitted, as dis-
connected with the recital.

94 Catharine of Siena.

In 1372 good Giacomo, Catharine's father, died. While
the family all wept around his bed, Catharine alone re-
mained calm and even joyful, for she realized the fulness
of peace into which her beloved father had entered. She
kissed him, and said, "Blessed be the Lord God for this
entrance into eternal life. How happy should I be were I
where thou art now, my father !"

Then Lapa fell ill, and drew near to death. She was a
true and simple-hearted Christian, but she dearly loved life,
and revolted against the thought of dying. She besought
her daughter to obtain for her the favour of a longer life.
Catharine, seeing her mother so far from resigned to the will
of God, and too much devoted to the things of earth, retired
to her room, and prayed earnestly that her beloved mother
might live and become more prepared for the kingdom
of God. The physicians had already pronounced Lapa's
malady to be past cure ; but she recovered, and lived till
her ninetieth year. Long before she died she wished and
prayed for death, and often said that God had " riveted
her soul to her body." " How many," she said, " of my
children and grand-children have I followed to the grave !
it is I alone who cannot die."

In 1374 the plague broke out in Siena. Multitudes fell
dead in the churches and in the streets, as spoiled fruit falls
from the trees.^ The harvests stood unreaped, and all
business was arrested. The hoarse cries of the grave-
diggers (beccamorti) resounded through the streets — "Bring
out your dead ! " The doors of the houses opened, and

1 " Morti cadevano a terra a guisa che i pomi fracidi.' — Tommasi,
History of Hitna, Book x.

Labours during tlie Plague. 95

** corpses were seen carried out by other coi'pses ;" some-
times the priests, and those who carried the dead, sat down
for a moment of repose, and never rose again. In some
streets no voice responded to the cry of the beccamoiii ; the
terrible smell of putrefaction alone signified the presence of
<leath. The strongest minds were subdued by melancholy
or fear ; the tribunals were empt}' ; the laws were no longer
enforced ; at each assembling of the Signory there were fresh
vacant places, and no one any longer dared to ask the cause
of absence. Many of the rich and the powerful quitted
the city and isolated themselves in their country chateaux.
The conduct of Catharine and her friends the Mantellatas in
this emergency was sublime ; they devoted themselves to
the poorest of the stricken population, entering without
fear the most infected quarters ; they sang hymns of joy
while wrapping the poor discoloured corpses in their wind-
ing-sheets ; many of the sisters fell, chilled by the icy hand
of death, in the midst of their holy work ; " but their com-
panions, knowing well that they had entered into the
presence of Jesus, pressed the last kiss on their foreheads,
and hastened back with increased zeal to their labour of
love."^ It was during this time of severe trial that some of
the firmest of Catharine's life-long friendships were begun,
or more closely cemented.

It may be well here to gather into a group the principal
friends, fellow-workers, and disciples of Catharine, so that we
may realize a little the varied and pleasant character of that
"mystic family," as it was sometimes called, which went
forth with her on the great highway of the world, bringing

1 Chaviu de Malan, Chap. xL

96 Catharine of Siena.

hope and blessing to their fellow-men, and leaving foot-
prints worthy to be traced by those who came after.

The good Raymond of Capua must be first mentioned ;
he tells us himself of his introduction to Catharine. " In
1373 I was summoned to Siena, where I exercised the
function of lector in the convent of my order, that of
the Dominicans. I was serving God in a cold and for-
mal manner, when the plague broke out in Siena, where
it raged with greater violence than in any other city.
Terror reigned everywhere. Zeal for souls, which is the
essence of the spirit of St. Dominic, urged me to labour
for the salvation of my neighbours. I necessarily went
very often to the Hospital of la Misericordia. The direc-
tor of that hospital at that time was Father Matthew of
Cenni, an attached friend of Catharine. Every morn-
ing, on my way to the city, I inquired at the Misericordia
whether any more of the inmates there had been attacked
with the plague. One day on entering, I saw some of
the brothers carrying Father Matthew like a corpse from
the chapel to his room ; his face was livid, and his
strength was so far gone that he could not answer me
when I spoke to him. ' Last night,' the brother said,
' about eleven o'clock, while ministering to a dying person,
he perceived himself stricken, and fell at once into ex-
treme weakness.' I helped to lay him on his bed ; . . . .
he spoke afterwards, and said that he felt as if his head
was separating into four parts. I sent for Dr. Senso, his
physician ; Dr. Senso declared to me that my friend had
the plague, and that every symptom announced the ap-
proach of death. ' I fear,' he said, ' that the House of
Mercy (Misericordia) is about to be deprived of its good

Father Matthew's Recovery. 97

director.' I asked if medical art could not save him; 'We
shall see,' replied Dr. Senso, ' but I have only a very faint
hope ; his blood is too much poisoned.' I withdrew, pray-
ing God to save the life of this good man. Catharine, how-
ever, had heard of the illness of Father Matthew, whom
she loved sincerely, and she lost no time in repairing to
him. The moment she entered the room, she cried, with a
cheerful voice, ' Get up. Father Matthew, get up ! This is
not a time to be lying idly in bed.' Father Matthew roused
himself, sat up on his bed, and finally stood on his feet.
Catharine retired ; at the moment she was leaving the
house, I entered it, and ignorant of what had happened, and
believing my friend to be still at the point of death, my
grief urged me to say, 'Will you allow a person so dear ta
us, and so useful to others, to die V She appeared annoyed
at my words, and replied : ' In what terms do you address
me 1 Am I like God, to deliver a man from death V But
I, beside myself with sorrow, pleaded, ' Speak in that way
to others if you will, but not to me ; for I know your
secrets : and / know that you obtain from God whatsoever your
ask in faith.' Then Catharine bowed her head, and smiled
just a little ; after a few moments she lifted up her head
and looked full in my face, her countenance radiant with
joy, and said : ' Well, let us take courage ; he will not die
this time;' and she passed on. At these words I banished
all fear, for I understood that she had obtained some favour
from heaven. I went straight to my sick friend, whom I
found sitting on the side of his bed. ' Do you know,' he
cried, 'what she has done for mef He then stood up and
joyfully narrated what I have here written. To make the
matter more sure, the table was laid, and Father Matthew

H

98 Catharine of Siena.

seated himself at it with us ; they served him with vege-
tables and other light food, and he, who an hour before could
not open his mouth, ate with us, chatting and laughing gaily.
Great was our joy and admiration; we all thanked and
praised God. Nicolas d'Andrea, of the Friar Preachers, was
there, besides students, priests, and more than twenty other
persons, who all saw and heard what I have narrated."

Catharine's prayers brought health to many sick per-
sons. She believed in the promise, " The prayer of faith
shall save the sick;" and doubted not its fulfilment in
answer to earnest prayer, in every case in which that ful-
filment was for the good of the sufferer and for the glory
of God. The other methods she employed, besides the
all-powerful one of prayer, were to persuade the patient
to make a full confession of sin, then to speak peace to
his conscience, through faith in Jesus Christ, and to in-
spire him with a joyous courage and resolution. Physi-
cians well know how closely connected is bodily health
with mental conditions ; but most will question the power
even of the highest faith to arrest the progress of a poison
actually working in the blood. Into such questions it is
not my present intention to enter ; my part is to present
a simple narrative, concerning which those who read may
draw their own conclusions. After our Lord Jesus Christ
had ascended to heaven, the first apostles received, to-
gether with many other spiritual gifts, showered down
on the day of Pentecost, such gifts of healing, that the
sick were brought by their friends and laid in the streets
of Jerusalem, that perchance the shadow only of Peter
passing by might overshadow them and restore them to
health and life. No historian of the Church has yet

Character of Raymond. 99

ventured to assign an exact date to the cessation of the so-
called miraculous gifts of healing ; perhaps when we see all
things more clearly, we shall know that these gifts only-
ceased in proportion to the decay of the faith which claimed
and exercised them; and we may be able again by the
prayer of faith to heal the sick and cast out evil spirits.

Father Eaymond then recounts how, having fallen ill
himself through his excessive exertions in the plague-
stricken city, he crawled to Catharine's house, where not
being able longer to stand up, he fell prostrate, and lay
half-conscious till she returned from her labours ; how she,
placing both her pure hands on his forehead, remained
absorbed in prayer for an hour and a half, how he fell
into a peaceful slumber, and how on awaking in perfect
health, she said to him, " Go now, and labour for the sal-
vation of souls, and render thanks to the Lord who has
saved you from this great danger." Eaymond appears
to have been indebted to his great powers of work, his
good sense, exceeding uprightness and truth, rather than
to any remarkable talents or genius, for the position and
influence he gradually attained in the Church : an honest,
faithful, sensible and laborious man, he proved to be the
most useful if not the most inspired of Catharine's helpers.
He had a habit of questioning all he heard from her
concerning her revelations, and of frequently reporting
to her the opinions and criticisms of the world on her
actions. "People all wonder that you do so and so," he
said to her, or, " Many are offended with you for such and
such a thing; might you not modify your austerities, and
adapt your habits a little more to what the world under-
stands?" &c., &c. "One day," he says, "I rebuked her

H 2

100 Catlmrine of Siena.

privately for not preventing some persons from bending the
knee when they approached her ; when she answered me,
' God is my witness, Father, that I observe very little,
sometimes not at all, the actions of those who surround me,
for I am thinking only of their souls.'" He confesses that
he questioned her severely concerning what God had re-
vealed to her of the path she ought to pursue, " for I had
found many deluded people," he says, " especially among
females, whose heads are easily turned ; and the remarks
made by people around me troubled me." Catharine
accepted frankly all his warnings and advice, and he,
satisfied of her sincerity, soon became far more her disciple
than her teacher or censor. This he asserts of himself with
characteristic honesty. In her relations with Raymond,
the gentle gaiety and sense of humour which Catharine
possessed, appear more, perhaps, than in other relations.
She would rally him on account of his too great solemnity
and gravity on occasions which did not especially call for
such conditions of mind. He records her great delight in
talking of the things of God; when she could find a willing
listener, she would speak much, and rather rapidly, on these
topics. " While she was actively employed, or spoke of
heavenly things," says he, " she seemed to be redolent
with the vigour of youth, and when she ceased, she be-
came languid and without energy. Often she spoke to me
of the profound mysteries of God, and as I did not possess
her sublime elevation of soul, I would fall asleep. But
she, absorbed in God, would not perceive it, and continued
talking; and when she discovered me asleep, she would
arouse me in a louder voice, and gaily rebuke me for thus
allowing her to converse with the walls."

Learned Friars. 101

Father Thomas della Fonte was one of the earliest friends
of Catharine's youth, and supplied to Raymond the record
of her life which preceded her acquaintance with the latter.

Three miles from Siena stood .the ancient monastery
of Lecceto, where dwelt many good monks who were
Catharine's friends. William of England, already men-
tioned, was one of these; his soul was penetrated with
grief on account of the corruptions of the Church, con-
cerning which he often held counsel with Catharine during
her evening visits to the convent, when they sat under
the shade of the trees. Many of her letters are addressed
to him, whom on account of his learning and the honours
he had obtained at Oxford and other universities, she
called her bachelor (hacceliere). Brother Anthony of
Nice was another of her friends of Lecceto, as were also
John Tantucci, a doctor of theology of the University of
Cambridge ; Felice da Massa, who accompanied her to
Avignon ; and Girolamo, bursar of Lecceto, a man of an
ardent and daring temper, whom she calls " the sublime
madman of the Cross."

In a secluded hermitage in Vallombrosa there dwelt a
learned Florentine who had retired from the life of the
city to devote himself to the study of the Scriptures, and
to writing. He was familiarly known as " John of the
Cell." He was advanced in years when he made the
journey to Siena in order to converse with Catharine, of
whom he had heard. He became her firm friend and ever
ready servant. He preserved to his death, and in spite
of a life of seclusion, a sociable and merry temper ; his
manners were courteous, and his conversation witty and
pleasant. The Florentines styled him the new Socrates,

102 CatJmrine of Siena.

on account of his wisdom and independence of character.^
Many stories were told of his absence of mind ; when en-
grossed in solving some deep mental problem he would
stand with uncovered head for hours in the woods or on
the highway, regardless of the burning sun or falling dew.
Catharine selected old John of the Cell to carry many of
her most important despatches to Eome and elsewhere.
There being no postal communication in those days,
Catharine was often exercised in mind concerning her
many letter-carriers. John of the Cell was old, but
energetic, and his shrewdness, wit, experience, and repu-
tation for learning made him a fit and trusty messenger
in negotiations with the Pope and other princes.

Andrew Vanni, the painter, has been already mentioned.
In 1378 he was elected "Captain of the people " in Siena.
Catharine wrote him a long letter, on his election. Chavin
de Malan styles this letter " a noble Christian lesson in
political economy." She adjures him to be guided by a
spirit of justice in all his public life, to allow no narrow or
contradictory motives to mingle with the great principles
of justice and love of the people : " the only means to
preserve peace in thyself, in the city, in the world, is con-
stantly to guard and maintain holy jtisiice. It is through
the violation of justice that so many great evils have come
upon us ; and it is because I so earnestly desire to see
justice reign in thee and our dear city, that I write thee
these lines. In order to be a just ruler, justice must first
reign in thy own conscience ; otherwise thou canst never
establish it in the State."

^ " Festivus Sermo, et senectus oppido jucunda, ut alteram
Socratem diceres." BoUandus, "ActaSanct. "

Tlie laughing Cecca and other friends. 103

We shall have to speak presently of the brothers
Buonconti of Pisa. Many other friends of Catharine
are known only by name ; they shared her labours, and
those who survived her strove to immortalize her teaching.
Among these were Gabriel Piccolomini, Francesco Landi,
Pietro Ventura, Cenne d'Jacomo, Neri Ugurgieri, Nicolo
Ugolino, the poet Anastagio di Monte Altino, Masaccio
the painter, and many others.

It is not easy to make a selection for special notice
among the brave women who worked with her, Mantellatas
and others, so numerous and so devoted were they. The
Florentine lady, Giovanna Pazzi, was one of the most intelli-
gent and spiritual of her friends, and a laborious worker foi
God. Giovanna di Capo we find with her also in Florence
during the revolution there, of which we shall have to speak.

The laughing Cecca (ridente) is constantly mentioned by
Catharine — a bright, merry soul, called sometimes also
by her friends the " mad " or the " mischievous Cecca."
Her sallies of wit often enlivened the joui-neys and labours
of the sisters.^

Catharine Ghetti, and Angelina Vanni, sister of the
artist, may be mentioned ; also the noble and venerable
Lady Bianchina Salimbeni, widow of John Salimbeni, the
head of the proud aristocratic family prominent in the
Sienese revolutions already noticed.

Catharine, a lover of all children, conceived a great affec-
tion for a dear little child called Laurencia, the daughter
of a famous jurist at Siena. This child, when about eight
years of age, became lunatic, or, as it was then expressed,

1 Letters 114, 116, &c.

104 Catharine of Siena.

possessed of the devil. Her parents had exhausted every
means within their reach for her recovery. They took her
to the church of St. Dominic and made use there of every
relic and charm connected with the saints believed to
exercise a special healing power over possessed persons ;
but in vain. Their friends then earnestly advised them to
take the child to Catharine. They accordingly sought
Catharine in her own house. Catharine, for the first time,
I think, in her life, felt fear. It is not permitted to us to
fathom this trouble of her soul, or the secret of her fear,
for she kept silence respecting it. She only replied to
the messengers who came to announce the approach of
the little possessed one, " Alas ! alas ! What are they
doing 1 I myself am daily tormented with ihe devil, and
do they imagine I can deliver others 1 " As the parents
of Laurencia entered her door, Catharine fled and hid
herself so effectually in the attic that she could not
be found, and the poor parents departed, leading away
their struggling, shrieking little girl. Catharine stopped
her ears, but the sound had entered her soul, and she
wept bitterly ; she, however, sternly forbade anyone to
speak to her of this child, or to mention the subject of
demoniacal possession. What hidden anguish may have
lain at the bottom of this apparent cowardice we know
not ; but even in this she became " more than conqueror"
through his strength who loved her. Father Thomas
della Fonte, full of pity for little Laurencia and her
parents, resorted to the following stratagem : He brought
the child to Catharine's room when she was out, and
left her there, saying to the sen^ant, " Tell Catharine
when she returns that I command her to let this child

Little Laurencia. 105

remain near her all night." When Catharine returned, she
perceived in a moment, by the furious countenance and
wild cries of Laurencia, that this was the child she had
refused to see. She saw there was no escape, and kneeled
down, forcing the child to kneel and pray with her. This
was no easy task, and the struggle continued all night till
the morning, Catharine exerting all the force of her will to
subdue the child, and wrestling in prayer against the evil
one, till great drops of perspiration fell from her face, and
her strength was almost exhausted. Early in the morning
Alessia came in, and saw the end of the struggle, little
Laurencia lying in a quiet sleep on Catharine's bed, and
Catharine, with uplifted hands, silently praying still.
Catharine kept the child for many days, never leaving her,
instructing, soothing, and teaching her to pray. One day,
however, having been at the house of Alessia, she found
the evening so far advanced that she proposed to remain
there for the night. While quietly conversing with her
friend, she suddenly paused, arose, and said, "Haste, put
on your cloak and come with me; the infernal wolf has
again got hold of the innocent little lamb we had saved."
Alessia objected that it was not proper for women to go
out so late at night, alone, to which Catharine only replied,
"Make haste and come with me." They found the
child wildly excited and agonized with terror. Catharine
clasped her in her arms, and with an indignant voice
exclaimed, "Thou wicked serpent, thou dost think to
recover thy dominion ! but I have faith in Jesus, my
Saviour." She then kneeled down and prayed, Alessia
also praying with her. The child became calm, and some
days later was restored to her grateful parents. She

106 Catharine of Siena.

lived for sixteen years after, Catharine's devoted friend,
perfectly sane and peaceful.^

The people of Siena complained of a prolonged visit
which Catharine paid to the Lady Bianchina Salimbeni, at
her home, the Castel Eocca, near Siena. " She stays too
long," they said ; " it is not right that a daughter of the
people should remain so long in the house of a Salimbeni ;
what can a plebeian have to do with that family ? " Catharine
heard of the popular jealousy on her account, and sent to
say, " 1 am coming, but not before I have accomplished
what I have to do here." A fierce feud had arisen between
two families in the neighbourhood of La Eocca, and she
undertook to mediate and avert the shedding of blood.
While absent on this work, Lady Bianchina caused a poor
lunatic woman who lived near to come to the castle ; she
knew Catharine's repugnance to the subject of possession,
and feared to ask her directly to deal with this woman, but
placed her in the entrance of the castle. When Catharine
returned, she perceived the poor demoniac, and turned pale,
saying pleadingly to Lady Bianchina, "May God forgive
you, lady, for what you have done ! Do you know that I
myself am often tormented, and how can you expose
me to risk by leading before me a possessed person ? "
Catharine, obliged to go out again to finish her work as
a peace-maker, said sternly to the possessed, " See here !
Place your head in this spot exactly, and do not move
one inch till I return." The possessed obeyed, though
with piercing cries and sobs. When Catharine returned,
she found the patient in the same position, though filling

^ Raymond, Lib, iL, Cap. viii.

The Lady Bianchina, and Alessia. 107

the house with her groans and shrieks. Catharine had
just seen peace concluded between the rival families, and
returned, wearied and exhausted, to this scene of violence
of another kind. She appeared angry, and exclaimed, " Get
up, you wretch ! Hold your peace, and depart for ever
from this poor creature, so dear to Jesus the Son of God."
At these words, "Jesus the Son of God," the possessed
woman fell fainting on the floor, and was carried to a bed.
In a few minutes she seemed like one awakened out of a
deep sleep, and calmly asked, " Where am 1 1 How did I
come here 1 Who are these kind friends ? " " She was
never troubled again," says Eaymond, who took care to see
her occasionally for many years after. The Lady Bianchina
kissed her angelic plebeian guest, with her own hands folded
the beloved, well-patched little dominican cloak around her,
and bade her return to Siena, to satisfy those who murmured.
Of all her women friends, she whom Catharine most
dearly loved was Alessia. Alessia was very early left a
widow, and from the time that she became a Mantellata she
was Catharine's inseparable companion. She was a woman
of strong good sense, true humility, and ready powers of
adaptation. It is to her that we are indebted for much
of Catharine's inner history, for she was sometimes even
the sharer of her private devotions. It may be asked,
how it can be known that Catharine used such and such
words and arguments in prayer as are recorded ? The
explanation is in the fact that Catharine herself kept a
record of some of the wonderful answers which were gi^anted
to her prayers, and of her own pleadings with God ; while,
at the request of her most intimate friends, she dictated
from memory a record of much of her soul's experience,

108 Catharine of Siena.

including the directions and revelations she received from
her Lord. Much of this is developed in her book, the
" Dialogue." Alessia was, moreover, a witness of the travail
of Catharine's soul in several of those great emergencies when
she sought the immediate interposition of the divine hand.

Such were Catharine's friends and companions ; but
those of Avhom I am about to speak were, in a more
special sense, her own spiritual children. When the
question of her canonization first came to be discussed at
Rome, several of those who had been most intimately
acquainted with her were requested to write down their
recollections of her. These documents, sought for in
vain by the followers of Bollandus for insertion in the
" Acta Sanctorum," were afterwards found in manuscript
at the Grande Chartreuse, and published by Dom Martene.
There is so much freshness and reality in these personal
notices that I shall here give very briefly the substance
of portions of them, reserving other portions for the
later dates to which they refer. The first is that of
Friar Thomas of Siena. He was very young, he tells
us, when he first made the acquaintance of Catharine,
her father, mother, and whole family ; he entered the
order of the Preaching Friars about the same time that
she became a Mantellata. " She dwelt near the church of
the Preaching Friars, and spent the greater part of every
night in prayer ; when she heard the matin-bell she
rested ; she constantly exhorted the brothers of St.
Dominic to give themselves to the Lord ; and concerning
some who had fallen, she would say to us, '0 let us
mourn and pray for them — yea, let us mourn over these
dead ones.' She was exceedingly fond of flowers, and

Recollections of Friar Thoinas. 109

delighted in weaving them into crowns, wreaths, and gar-
lands, which she gave to her friends to remind them of
the love of the Creator. She often gave me a bouquet.
She was never idle. When not engaged in prayer or
active ministrations, she dictated letters to her secretaries.
Among those whom she called to the faith and service of
Jesus, were these, known to me : — Gabriel Piccolomini,
Neri of Landoccio, Christopher Ghanni, who translated her
' Dialogue ' into Latin, and collected her letters after her
death ; Stephen Maconi, and Francis Malavolti. I was
present at the execution of Nicola Tuldo ; Catharine was
by his side, and caught his head in her hands. Tuldo's eyes
were fixed on heaven with so firm a gaze that his eyelids
remained motionless ; the spectators wept, thinking they
saw in this young man before them a martyr rather than a
political criminal, and his funeral presented the aspect of a
solemn religious festival. Catharine was always affable,
kind, and gladsome, even in the midst of the greatest suffer-
ings : trials seemed welcome to her. Once a man of God
came from Florence to examine personally what had been
told him of her. She was then, on account of severe illness,
extended on the planks which served her as a bed. To test
her humility he began to administer to her the most harsh
and humiliating reproofs. She bowed her head and listened
submissively, to the end, without changing countenance,
and assured him that she felt very grateful for what he had
said. Her visitor exclaimed, after he had left her, ' She
is pure gold without alloy.' She generally dictated her
letters and book while walking up and down her room,
sometimes kneeling down to pray for more light. She
taught herself to write after she was grown up. Soon

110 CatJiarine of Siena.

afterwards sbe wrote to Stephen, ' You must know, dear
son, that this is the first letter I ever wrote with my own
hand;' and to Eaymond, ' I wrote this letter myself, for
God has given me facility in writing, that when I come from
prayer I may unburden my heart.' She valued much her
dominican cloak, because in it she had been solemnly con-
secrated to the service of Christ. * I will never part with
this dear mantle,' she said ; and whenever the precious
cloak became worn or had a rent in it, she mended and
patched it with the greatest care ; the many pieces in it were
all inserted by her own hand. I took that cloak myself,
after her death, from Siena to Venice, where it is preserved
in the Dominican church there. Barduccio, of Florence,
who was one of her secretaries, was particularly dear to the
blessed one ; he was with her when she died, in Kome, and
afterwards returned to Siena, sick, where he died, still very
young, with a smile on his face."

Friar Bartholomew, of Siena, was a pupil of Thomas
della Fonte, who often took him with him to visit Catha-
rine at the Fullonica. He afterwards accompanied her on
her missions to Pisa, Lucca, Genoa, Avignon, Florence,
and Rome. He also says of her, that " she was very fond
of lilies, roses, violets, and all flowers, and used to make
them up into superb wreaths and bouquets. Her com-
panions were young maidens like herself, wearing the
mantle of St. Dominic. I often saw them sitting weaving
flowers and singing together. When I began visiting her
in the house, she was young, and always wore a smiling
countenance ; I also was young ; but I never experienced
any trouble in her presence. On the contrary, the more
I conversed with her, the more I became in love with all

Recollections of Friar Bartholomew. Ill

the stern virtues. I knew many young laymen and monks
who used to visit her, and they all experienced impressions
similar to mine ; the sight of her, and all her conversations,
breathed angelic purity. Her eloquence was wonderful,
and great multitudes of men and women flocked to hear
her preach. Ignorant people asked, 'Whence comes so
much knowledge, seeing she has never been to school V
Some thought the Friar Preachers had taught her, but,
on the contrary, it was she who taught them. Frequently
she dictated to two or three secretaries at once, and
that without any hesitation or confusion. She told me
of the command she had received from the Lord, after
she had remained so long in prayer that her soul was
separated from her bodj'^, and she was caught up to his
presence. God then said to her, 'I have appointed thee,
my daughter, to a new manner of life. Thou shalt travel ;
thou shalt go from city to city as I will indicate to thee ;
thou shalt live with the multitude, and speak in public :
I will send some to thee, and I will send thee to others,
according to my good pleasure. Be thou ever ready to do
my will.'i

"I never saw the least shade of melancholy in her
countenance, which was always cheerful, and even merry.
When the pain in her side tortured her cruelly, and hin-
dered her from rising, her friends pitied her, and said,

1 Deposition of Bartolommei di Dominic! di Siena, given Oct.,
1412, received and written out by Adama (Notary) with all requisite
formalities, sent to the Bishop of Venice, and deposited afterwards
in the library of the Grande Chartreuse at Grenoble. The words
are exactly translated, as given by Bartolommei from Catharine's
own mouth. This deposition was also copied by Tomaseo Petra,
Secretary to the Pope.

112 Catharine of Siena.

' Mother, how you are suffering ! ' She would smile and
say, ' 1 feel a gentle trouble in my side ; ' and she would
add, * I think I know how my Lord suffered when one of
his hands was already nailed, and they drew the other arm
with such violence that his ribs were disjointed.' When-
ever she spoke of the martyrs, her face would flush and her
eyes gleam, and she would spread out her white robe, and
smilingly say, ' 0, how lovely it would be if it were all
stained with blood for the love of Jesus ! ' Till the last
years of her life our Lord granted me the grace of being
united to her by the bonds of a pure and holy affection."

It is from Friar Bartholomew that we have the account
of the influence of Catharine with a venerable nobleman
of Siena, called Francis, but whose family name he con-
ceals. This gentleman was more than eight}^ years of
age, when Alessia, who had married his son, and who
now in her widowed state lived in the house of her father-
in-law, besought Catharine to see and converse with him.
To facilitate this, she begged Catharine to become her
guest for some weeks in winter, in order that in the
long evenings she might have opportunities of conversing
with him. Catharine found the old nobleman very hard
and worldly, as he had been indeed all his life; at first
he mocked, and turned to laughter her efforts with him ;
but at last, he " yielded to the fire of her discourse," and
said : " I am determined to confess and to pray ; but I
must tell you that I bear a deadly hatred against a cer-
tain prior, and intend if I can to kill him." Catharine
said " such affecting things to him concerning this prior,"
that at last he exclaimed : "I will do whatever you order
me ; speak, then ; I obey." Catharine, kneeling before him,

The old Knight and the Falcon. 113

then said, " For the love of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, I beseech you, dear father, to forgive this prior,
and to go and be reconciled to him." He promised, and
before sunrise on the morrow he took a splendid falcon of
which he was very fond, and bent his steps, alone, to the
church at which the prior officiated. The prior, seeing his
enemy enter, immediately fled ; but the old man sent a
canon after him to assure him that he had come to bring
him good news, and not to injure him. The prior, on
hearing that Francis was alone and unarmed, surrounded
himself with many friends, and then permitted his visitor
to be introduced. Francis, with his falcon on his wrist,
bowed low, and said, " The grace of God has touched my
heart, and I am come to offer to be reconciled with you ;
and in proof of my sincerity, I beg your acceptance of this
falcon, which is my great pet." The prior, in astonish-
ment, accepted peace, and Francis, returning to Catharine,
said, " I have obeyed your orders ; now what else shall I
do % " Catharine begged him to see and converse with one
of the most fervent of the Fathers of St. Dominic, who
refrained from imposing any penance upon him, for "he
was very aged, and in great indigence, although he was
noble." The only penance which Catharine prescribed
was that he should pray very earnestly ; and he who had
scarcely ever in his life entered a church, now rose early
every day, and walked in silence to the cathedral, where
he passed pi'olonged hours at the foot of the cross. This
child-like and teachable old disciple continued ever faith-
ful ; and full of love and charity to all men, in a few years
he slept peacefully in God.

The same witness also records the story of the conver-
I

114 Catharine of Siena.

sion of Lazarini. Lazarini was a learned man, and pro-
fessor of philosophy at Siena; his lectures were brilliant,
and attracted crowds of pupils. He was one of the severest
critics of the life of Catharine, and openly attacked her
character. He resolved to pay her a visit, thinking to find
material for further condemnation. He repaired to her
house one day, at the hour of vespers. " He asked me
to go with him," says Bartholomew, "and I consented,
believing he would repent of his motive. We entered her
room ; Lazarini sat down on a chest, and Catharine on the
floor at his feet ; I remained standing. After some moments
of silence, Father Lazarini began : ' I have heard many
persons speak of your sanctity, and I have been anxious tQ
visit you, hoping to hear something edifying and consol-
ing to my soul ! ' Catharine, who understood him perfectly,
promptly replied : ' And as for me, I am rejoiced at your
arrival, for I desire an opportunity of profiting by that
learning with which you daily delight your numerous
disciples.' She paused, showing no disposition to impart
anything. This interchange of empty compliments con-
tinued for some time, and as the night was coming on,
Father Lazarini said: 'I see it is late; I must go; I will
return at a more suitable hour.' As he arose, Catharine sin-
cerely commended herself to his prayers, and he, as a matter
of form, asked her also to pray for him, which she cheerfully
promised to do. He went away, thinking that Catharine
might be a good person, but that she was far from deserv-
ing her great reputation." Early the following morning,
when he arose to study the subject he was to explain
to his pupils that day, he felt a great oppression at his
heart, and involuntarily began to weep. When they

Professor Lazanni. 115

called him at the hour of the class, he could not speak to
his pupils. Returning to his room, he became indignant
with himself : " What ails me 1 " he said ; " this is too
absurd ! Is my mother dead ? or has my brother fallen
in battle ? " The day passed, and the second morning
came, and yet the sadness continued ; he then began to
desire to converse with Catharine again. The sun was
scarcely risen when he again knocked at the door of her
room, in a very diflferent frame of mind from that in
which he first visited her. Catharine, who had never
ceased to pray for him, and who knew what her Lord had
done, opened the door gladly. They had a long interview,
at the end of which Professor Lazarini conjured her to direct
him in the way of salvation. Overcome by his instant
entreaties, she at last said : "The way of salvation for yaa
is to despise the world, its vanities and its smiles, and to
become humble, poor, and destitute, like our Lord Jesus,
and like the blessed St. Francis." Lazarini saw that
she had read his heart; for he had loved the world'
and its favours and pleasures. He went home, distributed
his money and costly furniture, and even his books,
reserving only such as were necessary to aid him in his
lectures, and became truly poor, and a follower of our
Redeemer. From this time his pupils increased in numbers ;
for to his learning and eloquence there was now added a
kindliness and humility which won for him the affection as
well as the admiration of those who heard him.

Stephen Maconi, a young nobleman of Siena, also
wrote down his personal recollections of Catharine, at
the time when her canonization was proposed. He says :
*' I must confess that, though a citizen of Siena, neither

I 2

116 Catharine of Siena.

I nor my family became acquainted with Catharine and her
relatives previous to the year 1376. At that time I was
engrossed with the business and pleasures of life, and had
no idea whatever of becoming acquainted with her. Our
family were then at open war with a family more powerful
than our own, and it seemed impossible ever to come to any
agreement, notwithstanding the repeated efforts of honour-
able citizens to act as mediators. Catharine had then a great
reputation in Tuscany, especially as a reconciler of hostile
persons and tribes. I was told that she could certainly
obtain peace for us, if I asked her. I paid her a visit, and
she received me, not as I had expected, with the bashful
timidity of a young maiden, but with the tenderness of a
sister towards a brother who had been absent on a long
journey. I was perfectly astonished, and listened eagerly to
her when she engaged me to repent and live like a good
Christian. I said to myself, ' digitus Dei est hie' When
I explained the object of my visit, she said without
hesitation, ' Go, my son, trust in the Lord ; I will do all in
my power to bring about a reconciliation.' "

The enemies of the Maconi were the Tolomei and the
Rinaldini. Catharine fixed a day for the reconciliation,
in the church of St. Christopher ; but the pride of these
two families would not yield, and they failed to keep the
appointment. When Catharine was informed of it, she
said, " The}' will not listen to me ; but whether they will
or no, they will be obliged to listen to God." She went
to the church, where she expected to find Stephen, his
father, and his other relatives. There she kneeled down
before the altar, and oiFered up instant prayer to Heaven.
While she was praying, those who had refused to be

Stephen Maconi. \\1

reconciled entered the church, unknown to each other.
"God had brought them there." They paused at the
sight of Catharine kneeling in prayer, unconscious of their
presence. While standing silently for some minutes, it
seemed to all the members of those rival families that the
Spirit of God, the Spirit of peace and goodwill, descended
upon them ; they were vanquished, and ready to give up
all their animosities. They charged Catharine with the
arrangement of the conditions of peace, and became per-
fectly reconciled.

Stephen was one of the members of a confraternity which
held its meetings for religious exercises in a subterranean
room of a church at Siena. On one of these occasions he
suffered himself to be drawn into a conspiracy against the
government, planned in this room. Catharine discovered it,
and said to him, " 0 Stephen, my son, what evil are you
plotting in your heart ] Is it thus that you change the house
of God into a workshop for treason 1 What a stupid pro-
ject 1 and for this you risk the loss both of your soul and
body." Stephen repented of his design, and perceived that
there were many things of which he must purge himself in
order to become worthy of Catharine's friendship. Stephen
continues : " I now visited her often, and by the intluenco
of her words and examj^le, I felt within me a blessed
change. She one day asked me to write some letters for
her at her dictation. I accepted with joy, and as I con-
tinued to record her thoughts and advice in this way, my
heart became inflamed with the love of God, and filled with
contempt for the things of this world. I was also so
filled with shame for my past life, that I could not bear
to think of it. This change, of course, appeared outwardly,

J 18 Catharine of Siena.

and nearly all the city was in astonishment, A little
while after, Catharine said to me when we were alone,
' You will presently see, Stephen, that the dearest wish
of your heart will be accomplished.' Her words amazed
me, for I was not conscious that I now wished for any-
thing at all in this world, and I said, * What is that dearest
wish 1 ' She replied, ' Look into your own heart, and see.'
I said, 'My very dear mother, I do not find there any
greater desire than that of ever remaining near yon.' She
answered at once, ' It shall be fulfilled.' For myself, I
could not understand how that could be, without violating
the rules of propriety, for I thought of the great difference
there was in our rank and outward circumstances ; but He
to whom nothing is impossible, willed that she should be
sent to Avignon, and then, notwithstanding my great un-
worthiness, I was chosen to travel in her company. I quitted
with joy my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters,
and all mj' kindred, so happy was I to serve her.^ It will
be seen that for several years I had very intimate relations
with Catharine, because I wrote her letters. She also con-
sulted me about her thoughts and movements, and dictated
to me a portion of her book. She loved me with the tender-
ness of a mother, and indeed far more than I deserved ;
consequently several of her disciples conceived a strong
sentiment of jealousy. I studied with the greatest care her
life and actions, and I declare, on my soul and conscience,
and before God and the Church militant, that I have

1 Letter of Stephen Maconi to Fra d* Antonio, of the Convent of
SS. John and Paul in Venice, and afterwards found in the library
of the Grande Chartreuse.

NicJwlas dei Smr acini. 119

been intimately acquainted with several great servants of
God, but have never seen anyone of so exalted a virtue.
I never heard a frivolous word from her lips. She suffered
constantly from ill-health and pain, but never did a shadow
of trouble overcast her face ; never did she utter a word
which might indicate anger or impatience ; and this last is
assuredly a mark of high perfection."^

I shall return later to the narrative of Stephen. It re-
mains only to notice briefly a venerable disciple of Catharine,
whom she called " My Lord Nicholas dei Sarracini," an
old soldier who had achieved glorious exploits on the battle-
field, and whose pious wife continually urged him to con-
fession and a godly life. He remained long indifferent to
all her pleadings. One morning, however, he said to her,
" I saw in a dream last night that lady of whom you so
constantly speak to me, Catharine of the Contrada d'Oca ;
let us go and speak with her." Catharine, from her know-
ledge of the human heart, spoke to the old knight in such
a manner that he affirmed " she told me all things whatso-
ever I did ; " he learned to pray, and became a humble
believer. In about a year from this time he died in great
peace. This concludes the notice of the principal friends
and fellow-workers of Catharine.

* Letter of Stephen Maconi to Fra d' Antonio.

CHAPTER V.

The plague had subsided in Siena. The report of Catharine's
devoted labours among the stricken people having reached
Pisa, many of the inhabitants of that city expressed a strong
desire to see her. They therefore sent a deputation to Siena
to entreat her to pay them a visit, promising, in order the
more to attract her, that her presence would be profitable to
many erring souls. Catharine, suspecting her own instinc-
tive love of journeying and adventure, hesitated for some
time ; but after taking counsel with her divine guide, and
talking the matter over -with Raymond, she set out, ac-
companied by several fathers of St. Dominic, including
Raymond himself, by her mother, Lapa, and by three or
four of the most devoted of the Mantellatas. She was hos-
pitably received at the house of the brothers Buonconti,
merchants. It was a beautiful evening in the month of
June, 1375, when this faithful little band of pacific con-
querors entered Pisa and crossed the well-known Piazza,
where those four striking monuments, the Baptistery, the
Cathedral, the Leaning Tower, and the Campo Santo, at
that time almost modern, had been irregularly scattered
by the hand of genius.^ Catharine paused to gaze for

' Chavin de Malan.

Visit to Pisa. 121

the first time, on these great masterpieces, and over the
plain beyond, sweeping towards the mountains which rise
between Pisa and Lucca. At Lucca, she and her companions
had tarried several days ; she was there a sufficient time to
add a group of disciples in that city to the "mystic family,"
now greatly increasing in numbers and strength. Gerard
Buonconti, at Pisa, came forth with a goodly company to
meet Catharine and her friends, and conduct them to the
apartments prepared for them. In this company there were
many of the Mantellatas of Pisa; there was the archbishop,
Francis Moricotto di Vico ; Peter Gambiacorti, the signore,
or chief of the government of the republic of Pisa, lead-
ing by the hand his little daughter Tora, who afterwards
became the Mother Clara of happy memory in the annals
of the Church; Bartolomeo Serafini of the Carthusians,
and others. There were Dominicans, solitaries from the
hills, artizans, merchants, and good men and women of
every condition. This Peter Gambiacorti is worthy of a
special notice. The Pisans had maintained a long contest
against the tyrannical rule of Giovanni Agnello, the late
head of the government, who, at the instigation of the
Emperor Charles IV., had usurped the unconstitutional
title of Doge. The father and uncles of Gambiacorti had
been prominent in this resistance, and, by a most unjust
sentence, had been condemned and beheaded ; he and his
family were banished, and his estates were confiscated.
The popular party however prevailed, and after some years
its chiefs reversed the sentence of exile against the family,
and Peter was recalled. He and his children, after a long
time of absence, spent in great poverty, re-entered Pisa on
foot, carrying olive branches in their hands. The streets

122 Catharine of Siena.

re-echoed with shouts of congratulation, and the bells of
the Leaning Tower rang out joyfully. Peter, his wife, and
his children, boys and girls of various ages, proceeded to
the cathedral, where he offered, at the foot of the great
altar, solemn thanks to God, " in the name of all exiles,"
and took an oath to "live as a good citizen among his
equals, and to forget and forgive all past injuries." But
the men of the new regime did not all share Gambiacorti's
magnanimous sentiments, and the smouldering revenge
burst forth that very day in acts of violence against the
persons and property of the colleagues of Agnello. They
set fire to the house of the deposed Doge ; a high wind
blew, and carried the fire so rapidly that there was danger
of the whole city being burnt down. The first act of
Peter Gambiacorti, after his vow made before the altar,
was to hasten to the defence of his former enemies ; he
fought all day against the fire, drove back the incendiaries,
and calmed the excited people. Standing in the midst of
the smoke and flames, he cried to the people, "/ have
pardoned mth all my heart — I, whose father and friends-
perished unjustly on the scaffold ! By what right do you
refuse to pardon ?"!

It is not surprising that such a man should have become
one of Catharine's friends and correspondents, or that she
should have found the chief of the republic the most eager
recipient among her Pisans, of all that she could impart
concerning God and eternal things.

Catharine had a commodious room assigned to her in

' Bernard Marangoni, "Chronicles of Pisa." Quoted by Sis-
mondi, Vol. vii., Chap, xlviii.

Correspondence concerning a Crusade. 123

the house of the brothers Buonconti, and here she spent
many hours every clay in writing letters on the affairs of the
Church and the Republics. Neri de Landoccio, a young
knight of Siena, of whom mention has already been made,
was her first secretary : he was with her at Pisa, and to him
and to Raymond she dictated her correspondence. For
social and spiritual converse with friends, the little chapel
of St. Christina was reserved. It adjoined the house of the
Buonconti, and here the Mantellatas and others assembled
in the evenings for pleasant intercourse and sacred music.

The thought of a crusade had early taken possession
of Catharine's mind. During this visit to Pisa the idea
attained greater prominence in her thoughts, and she
began at once to communicate to others her zeal in this
direction. The ambassador of the Queen of Cyprus was
at this moment in Pisa, on his way to the papal court at
Avignon, to convey to Gregory XI. the earnest entreaty
of the queen that he would call upon all the Christian II
powers to unite in a crusade against the Turks and
Saracens. This queen's territory had been invaded by"
the Turks, and she had witnessed the sufferings of the
Christians at the hands of the infidels, her own life had
been in peril, and she had been obliged to place her little
son under the protection of Raimond Beranger, the grand
master of the Knights Templars at Rhodes. The Cyprian
ambassador, drawn by a secret sympathy, paid a visit
to Catharine as soon as she arrived in Pisa, and conferred
with her at great length concerning the project of a
crusade. Catharine wrote to a friend in Siena, " To-day
the ambassador of the Queen of Cyprus paid me a visit;
he is on his way to the holy father to solicit his help for

124 Catharine of Siena.

the Christian lands under the infidels." This idea of the
crusades we know had taken hold of many great minds
before Catharine's time. The motives for such an enter-
prise are not sufficiently clear to us in our day to enable
us fully to comprehend the strength of the pure religious
fervour which filled the souls of those holy men who
preached the necessity of the undertaking as a pledge
of fidelity to Christ ; but in Catharine's case it is easy to
gather from her letters and conversations, that although
loyalty to her Lord was the leading principle in this, as in
all her thoughts and acts, she regarded the undertaking
r-also from the point of view of a politician. She saw her
country filled with, and ravaged by troops of foreign
mercenary soldiers — Germans, Bretons, English, and Hun-
garians. She saw the Visconti and other ambitious nobles
continuallj'- at war with their own countrymen, and Chris-
tian blood shed every day by Christian hands. She longed
to see a practical means of diverting into a legitimate channel
the furious passions and restless fighting zeal of these lawless
troops, and of her own countrymen who made use of them.
It would be, she conceived, a double benefit to society, to
rid Christendom of the presence of these brigands, and to
change this rude military ardour itself into a chivalrous zeal
for a holy cause. Duguesclin had purged France of the
demoralizing presence of military adventurers, and she
dreamed of the possibility of doing the same for Italy.
Her task was, however, a more difficult one than his,
owing to the violent opposition of interests in her own
land ; and, as we shall see, her design was thwarted by
the revolt, now so near, of almost the whole of Italy
against the Pope, and by the great schism which followed.

Her Arguments in favour of a Crusade. 125

Raymond says, in reply to some of her detractors, who
asserted that Catharine had prophesied that a crusade would
take place, and that her prophecy had proved false : " I
acknowledge that Catharine always desired a crusade, and
that she diligently laboured to bring it about ; it was one
of the motives of her journey to Avignon ; she wished to
engage the Pope Gregory in a holy war. I am witness of
this, because when she conversed with the Sovereign Pontiff
I acted as interpreter. Gregory XL spoke Proven9al, and
Catharine could only speak in the dialect of Tuscany.
Gregory therefore addressed her in Latin, which I inter-
preted. He said to her, ' Peace must first of all be
established among Christians, and after that we may or-
ganize a crusade.' Catharine replied, ' There is no better'/
means, father, of attaining to peace among Christians than
the undertaking of a crusade ; all the turbulent soldiers \
whose presence now promotes division among us, will
gladly go forth on such an adventure ; few will refuse to
serve God in the profession they love. The fire in Italy
will thus be extinguished for want of the fuel which feeds
it. You will accomplish several good objects at once ; you
will obtain peace for Christians, and save many criminals
by removing them from the scene and occasion of their
criminal acts ; besides which many infidels may be con-
verted and saved.' " Raymond adds, however, " I never
heard Catharine indicate in any manner whatsoever that
a crusade would take place ; on the contrary, she was
always very reserved on the subject, resigning the whole
to divine Providence, while expressing a hope that God
would look in mercy on the people, and thus save many
believers and unbelievers."

126 Catharine of Siena.

Catharine now set herself, with all her characteristic
energy, to the propagation of this idea. She wrote several
letters full of fire and persuasion to the celebrated Joanna,
Queen of Naples (" bella e turpida regina "). She acquaints
her with the good news that the Pope had already sent a bull
to the Provincial of the Friar Preachers, to the General of
the Minor Friars, and to another friend of her own, recom-
mending them to preach a crusade through all Italy. " I
therefore pray you, and would constrain you, madam," she
writes, "in the name of Christ crucified, to animate your soul
and prepare yourself by a humble attitude before God, to aid
this work. If you will take up the cross, many will follow
you. Awake, my sister, and act courageously ! It is no
time to sleep : time itself sleeps not ; it flies like the wind."
But Joanna, in the midst of intrigues, and absorbed by
the ambitions and pleasures of life, had no heart for any
such enthusiastic project. She made many beautiful
promises, which Catharine for some time hopefully confided
in, but which proved empty and vain. Hungary was con-
tinually threatened by Turkish invasion ; Catharine wrote,
therefore, in the same sense to the Queen of Hungary ; she
also wrote to Bernabos Visconti, stirring up in him his
ambition of glory. She then turned to the most famous
t. of the Condottieri and brigand chiefs. She had long grieved
i over the lawlessness and cruelty of the Englishman, Hawk-
1 wood, and she eagerly entertained the idea of engaging
I him in the holy war, for his own good and that of her
fscountry. To Hawkwood she wrote very earnestly : "Retire,
I beseech you, a little into yourself, my brother, and
contemplate the dangers and punishment to which you
are exposing your soul in the service of the devil. My

Correspondence with Captains of Condotlieri. 127

soul earnestly desires your salvation ; I desire to see you
change your manner of life and become the servant and
soldier of Christ. . . Fight no more with Christians : it is
a cruel thing that we, who are Christians and members of
one body, should thus tear and devour one another. I be-
seech you to prepare yourself by humility and virtue for
the time which is coming, in which you may give your life
for Christ ; and thus you will show yourself a true and
valiant knight. Brother Eaymond will carry to you this
letter : give credence to what he says, for he is a true and
faithful servant of God. . . Eemember, brother, how short
is your time on earth."

Having despatched Eaymond with the letter to Hawk-
wood she wrote to other warlike captains ; among whom
were Alviano, and the Count d'Agnolo. The former had a
great respect for Catharine, and the purity of his life was
such that other soldiers sometimes rallied him as being
secretly a member of the mystic family. She selected old
John of the Cell to convey the letter which she wrote to
Agnolo, a man who required to be very discreetly dealt with.^^
Her ardent appeals produced for a time a great movement
in the minds of men. The military chiefs began to dream
of rich harvests of glory and of spoil on the plains of Asia.
Preparations began to be made for departure. Women
shared the general enthusiasm, and formed a company which
they called " the servants of the pilgrims," to march to the
Holy Land. Their enthusiasm was sometimes more sincere
than wise, so much so, that Friar John of Vallombrosa was
obliged in his sermons to moderate their indiscreet zeal.^

X Letter of Friar John to Catharine, VoL iii., p. 220, Edition Gigli.

128 Cathanne of Siena.

Catharine was beginning to hope for the realization of
her cherished dream, when the first shocks were felt of
the great Tuscan revolt against the Church, in which a
large portion of Italy was soon to be implicated. She soon
became sorrowfully convinced that the discords among
Christian States would, for a long time probably, prevent
the realization of a crusade. She saw that those souls
must first be reconquered who were being lost to the king-
dom of Christ, and that the Church itself must first be
purified. Raymond says : " At the moment when the cities
and lands which belonged to the see of Rome began to
revolt against the Sovereign Pontiff, we were at Pisa. The
news of the defection of Perugia reached Pisa ; distressed
to observe among Christians so little fear of God, or love of
his Church ... I went to see Catharine, together with Friar
Pierre di Villetri ; my heart was drenched in grief, and my
countenance announced to her the melancholy event which
had occurred. At first she mingled her sorrow with ours,
for the loss of souls and the scandals of the Church ; but
very soon, perceiving that we were too much cast down, she
cheerfully chided us, saying : * Do not weep before the time ;
there Avill be far greater cause for tears by-and-by ; what
you now see is but milk and honey to what will follow.'
I asked her, in grief and alarm : ' Can we see anything
worse than what we now see, unless it be the renuncia-
tion altogether of the faith of Christ ? ' She replied, * You
now see the laity in rebellion, but in a little while you
will see the clergy much more culpable than they ; as
soon as the Pope shall manifest an intention of reform-
ing the morals of the clergy, they will revolt, and present
the spectacle of a grievous scandal to the whole world.

She fwesees the future of the Church. 1 29

There will be a great schism ; Christendom will be divided,
and the robe without seam will be rent in two ; arm your-
selves, therefore, with patience.' When Urban VI. suc-
ceeded to the papal throne (continues Raymond), and the
Church was rent with the great schism, I beheld the
verification of all that Catharine had predicted. . . Some
years afterwards, when we were at Rome, I begged her to
tell me what she believed would happen in the Church after
these miseries. She replied : ' After many tribulations and
trials, God will purify the Church by means unknown to
man ; he will awaken many souls out of sleep ; and the
reform of the Church and of her ministers will be so
beautiful that the prospect of it fills my soul with joy.
. . . Give thanks to God for the great peace which he will
give to his people after the tempest is past.'"

Catharine had come to Pisa, exhausted by her efforts
during the plague, and in the hope that a rest and change
of scene would restore her failing powers. Since the
month of January in that year, she had suffered from
great bodily weakness ; a reaction, affecting her spirits as
well as her body, had succeeded the superhuman efforts
she had made during the year of the plague. And now
we are to follow her through a period of suffering of a
nature seldom experienced except by persons of fine and
nervous constitutions, possessing great strength of affection
and spiritual aspiration. She had not found the repose
she hoped for ; her labours of correspondence in connection
with the desired crusade, had been exhausting ; and her
faith was now severely tried by the gloomy signs of the
approaching political tempest, into the midst of which she
knew that she must be drawn, inasmuch as the honour

K

130 Catharine of Siena.

of God and the salvation of erring souls were involved
in the approaching rupture. The families of her gentle
hosts, the Buonconti, were full of solicitude for her; she
was now obliged to moderate her active labours, and to
rest on her bed for many hours daily in silence and dark-
ness, on account of the severe headaches from which she
suffered. On one occasion the pain was so violent that
Gerard Buonconti, who had entered her room to ask after
her health, observed the contracted nerves of her fore-
head, the throbbing of her temples, and her poor, thin
hands tightly clenched in agony ; his eyes filled with tears;
turning over in his mind various schemes for her relief,
he thought that it might be of use to bathe her temples
with a generous wine. Having in his house only the thin
wine of the year, he sent to a friendly merchant who had
dealings with all the vineyards of France and Spain, to beg
some of his oldest wine. " Willingly would I give you of
my best," replied the merchant, "but my cask is exhausted;
come and see for yourself if you will." The two honest
men Avent together to the cellar on their errand of kind-
ness, and on tapping the cask supposed to be empty, the
old wine flowed abundantly, and its quality was pronounced
to be supremely excellent. The possessor of it was stupefied
with astonishment, and all his servants continued to protest
that for three months past the cask had been dry. "It is
a miracle!" they cried; "the virtue of the saint has
accomplished this ! " and straightway a report flew through
the city that Catharine had miraculously multiplied the
wine of her hosts, without even rising from her bed to
pronounce the word.

Some days after, Catharine, convalescent, was going

She deprecates Popularity. 131

through the streets with Lapa to pay a visit to an apostolic
nuncio just arrived from the papal court, when her presence
was announced by some workmen who recognized her. A
great crowd of people gathered around her ; the excitement
caused by the sight of a few scores in one street, soon drew
together hundreds from all parts of the city, so much so
that " the workshops were all forsaken, the faces of the in-
habitants crowded the doors and windows of the houses,
and all business ceased for a moment in the universal desire
to see this wondrous person, the dyer's daughter of Siena.
' Go to ? ' they said ; ' let us see who this woman is who
drinks no wine, and yet can miraculously fill the casks ! ' " ^
"Catharine," continues Raymond, " was exceedingly grieved
by this noise and excitement concerning her. She was
forced to pause; weak and trembling, she leaned on her
mother's arm, and lifting her eyes to heaven, she frankly
complained to her Saviour : * Lord, why dost thou suffer
me to be covered with confusion in this way before all the
people 1 Did I ever ask wine from thee 1 Thou knowest
that, by an inspiration of thy grace, I have all my life
abstained from wine, and now wine is suffered to be the
cause of my being made ridiculous. I beseech thee to put
this matter right, that all this foolish excitement may
cease ! ' " Very shortly (the story continues), the wonderful
wine came to an end, and the last which was drawn was so
unpalatable that those who would have drunk it dashed it
from their lips. The sudden brief outburst of popular favour
was followed by as sudden a reaction, and people murmured,

1 "Qualis ist hajc quie vinum non bibens, vas vacuum miraculoso
vino potuit adimplere." — Raymond, Cap. 16.

K2

132 Catharine of Siena.

criticized, and doubted. Catharine's friends came to her the
same evening, with serious faces, to tell her that the people
were actually beginning to say things seriously derogatory
to her dignity. Catharine answered only with a merry
laugh. How much of honesty of purpose, and of shrewd-
ness in her estimate of the worth of popular opinion is
expressed in her conduct of that morning, and in the laugh
with which she replied to her regretful friends in the
evening ! Her illness increased, in spite of all the kind
efforts of friends, and her own fortitude in combating her
physical weakness. She fainted repeatedly, and on one
occasion she continued in a state of insensibility during the
whole day. The deathly pallor of her face, and her rigid
immovability made her anxious friends believe that she
was actually dead, and she herself spoke afterwards of
her soul having really quitted the body that day, of
glorious things which she had seen in the city of God
whither celestial beings had conducted her, and of long and
blessed converse with her Lord, Her mother, her hosts, the
Friar Preachers and Mantellatas, her companions, all con-
tinued kneeling in her room till the evening, with tears en-
treating God to restore her to life. Towards the hour of
vespers the sisters observed the beating of her heart, and two
silent tears stealing from beneath the closed eyelids. With
deep sighs of relief, they all gave thanks to God ; but
Catharine, awaking from her long trance, wept bitterly.
Her chastened soul was not yet made entirely M'illing to
return to the pains and toils of earth, from the ineffable
foretaste granted to her of the joys of heaven. A sad
presentiment, moreover, seemed to haunt her of ap-
proaching calamities for her countrymen. But she had

Participation in the sufferings of Christ. 133

not yet traversed the whole length of the valley full of the
shadows of death. She began now to speak more than ever
of the sufTerings of Jesus Christ ; the thought of his passion
was never absent from her mind ; and she whispered
continually in her prayers the deep desire to be made more
and more a partaker of his sufferings; her soul thirsted
with a deeper thirst than ever for the living God, and for
l)erf ect oneness with Christ ; at times she seemed plunged
in sorrow, yet she embraced and clung to the sorrow;
words failed her when she endeavoured to speak of her
soul's travail at that time. "We cannot follow her," her
friends said ; " we must leave her alone with her Lord ;
there is a mystery in his dealings with her which we do not
fathom." And we, at this day, will do wisely to echo
those words, and not attempt to explain her sorrow or her
ecstasy, the intensity of the outgoing of her soul towards
God, or his deep and secret revelations of himself to her.
We leave her alone with her Lord.

What follows shall be told in the words of her friends,
the witnesses of her sorrows and her joys. Catharine
remained silent for many hours every day at the foot of the
cross, her frail body exercised with severe pain, while her
soul unweariedly pressed on to a closer union with Christ,
and participation in the sufferings of Calvary. One day
she was alone in the little chapel of St. Chiistina. " The
hour of the consummation had arrived." She remained
longer than usual, entranced : her senses seemed to be
dead. A few of her intimate friends entered and remained
in a remote corner of the church ; they saw her prostrate,
her forehead on the earth, like one dead : after a long and
motionless silence, she slowly raised herself and kneeled ;

134 Catharine of Siena.

then she stretched forth her arms until her figure assumed
the form of a cross ; her countenance was " all on fire ; "
she seemed absorbed, possessed by some high, imearthly
passion ; her eyes were fixed, as if ravished by something
which others saw not ; she remained thus, perfectly motion-
less, for some minutes, and then suddenly fell like one who
had received a death-blow. She was carried to her bed in
the house of the Buonconti. When she began to return to
herself, Raymond was by her side, and she whispered to him
in a low voice : " Father, I bear in my body the marks of
the Lord Jesus." Later in the day she spoke further on
the subject, "I saw my Lord," she said, "extended on
the cross, and from each of his five wounds there streamed
forth towards me a ray of heavenly light. My love for him,
and the desire of my soul to throw itself out of the body
towards him, were so strong, that they raised me from
the ground on which I was prostrated, and supported
me while I gazed upon him. The five bright rays stream-
ing towards me, pierced my hands and my feet and
my side with an acute pain, and I fell as if dead. I
besought the Lord that his blessed wounds might not
appear visibly in my body ; hence none but myself
knows my secret pain." Catharine knew that the stig-
mata believed to have been borne by the great St. Francis
of Assisi had won for him a superstitious worship which
that great saint himself repudiated, and which, had it
been bestowed on herself, she would have dreaded and
fled from. Some fear of this kind, some awe which she
never expressed, seems to have inspired the immediate
and earnest request that she might not bear visibly the
sacred marks, at the same time that she so ardently

The Legend of the Stigmata. 135

desired to be made even outwardly like unto him whom
her soul loved, and to realize the most intimate union pos-
sible in this life. Such was the incident which gave rise to
the belief held after her death that her experience exactly
coincided with that of St. Francis, or with that at least
which was attributed to him; for there is no spoken or
written word of Francis of Assisi on record in which he
himself claims the honour of having received the stigmata.^
Catharine remained for some days after this in a state of
profound weakness, and tortured with pain. She after-
wards told a friend that the anguish which she experienced
in the realization of the sufferings of Christ, was greatest
at the moment when she was pleading for the salvation of
some persons whom she dearly loved. '* Promise me that
thou wilt save them ! " she cried, and stretching forth
her right hand to Jesus, she again implored in agony :
" Promise me, dearest Lord, that thou wilt save them.
0 give me a token that thou wilt." Then her Lord
seemed to clasp her outstretched hand in his, and to
give her the promise ; when he withdrew, and her hand
dropped, "she felt a piercing pain as though a nail had
been driven through the palm."

Her health having become gradually somewhat restored,
Catharine resumed her active habits. From that time
forward her face beamed with a still more wonderful peace
and joy, at the same time that her whole frame bore the
traces of severe conflict. An atmosphere of heaven seemed
to surround her ; she was like one who possessed a secret

^ Beccafumi and other painters have represented the stigmatiza-
tion of St. Catharine in the Church of St. Christina.

136 Catlianne of Siena.

which all men desired to know, but which can be imparted
by God alone, in direct communication with the soul of man.
The multitudes who were attracted to her " took notice of
her that she had been with Jesus ; " and with that half-
unconscious thirst which lingers in every human soul,
urging it to cry, " who will show us any good 1 " many
besought her to tell them what she had in secret learned
of God.

During her stay at Pisa she encountered enemies as well
as friends, and there seems to have been a great conflict of
opinion in regard to her. Many simple folk among the
Pisans, not knowing how to express sufficiently their love
and admiration for her, knelt down, on meeting her in the
street, and kissed her hand. She was sharply rebuked for
allowing this. The austerity of her life and the fervency of
her prayers became the object of criticism here, as at Siena.
While some praised her, others maintained that she was
solely actuated by feminine vanity, and some even that she
was instigated by an evil spirit. The learned men of the
University thought it worth while to dispute with each other
as to whether she courted praise, or whether she only en-
joyed it when it came to her, and on this account took
great delight in appearing before the public. Some said,
" What folly it is in people to run from all sides to see her !
She is only a woman ; she ought to remain in her house if
she desires to serve God." Two or three of these deter-
mined, if possible, to put an end to the scandal, as they
termed it, of the public admiration for her. A celebrated
physician among them, called John Gutalebracia, resolved
to confound her by propounding difficult questions on the
Scriptures. He invited a renowned jurist, Master Peter

Master Peter Alhizi. 137

Albizi, a man of mature age and great prudence, to accom-
pany him, and they proceeded to the villa Buonconti. The
doctor opened the conversation in the following manner :
" Master Peter Albizi and I have heard, madam, of your
virtues and your learning, and we are come in the hope of
receiving from you some spiritual instruction. We are
anxious to know how you understand that passage in
which it is said, God spoke in order to create the world.
Has God a mouth and a tongue 1 " He addressed to her
several other questions of the same kind, and with assumed
respect awaited her reply. Catharine answered, *'I am
astonished that you, who are teachers of others, as you
inform me, should present yourselves before a poor woman
whose ignorance it would be much more proper that you
should enlighten. But, as you wish me to reply, I will do
so as God will enable me. What benefit will it be to you
or to me to know how God spoke in order to create the
world 1 God is a Spirit, and what is necessary for both
you and me to know is, that our Lord Jesus Chiist, the
Son of God, assumed our nature, and suffered and died for
our salvation. Yes ; the essential for me is to believe this,
and to think upon it, in order that my heart may be filled
with love towards him who so loved me. This is the true
science." She continued to speak with so much fervour
that Master Peter was unable to restrain his tears ; sud-
detdy, taking his bonnet of crimson velvet from his head,
he dropped on his knees and asked her forgiveness for
having come with the sole intention of perplexing or
tempting her. Catharine, giving him her hand, conjured
him to rise. She seated him beside her, and they held a
long and animated conversation on spiritual subjects.

1 38 Cathanne of Siena.

Before he left, he begged her to do him the favour of pre-
senting his little new-born baby at the baptismal font.
She cheerfully undertook to do so ; and from that hour he
who had been bitterly prejudiced against her, became one
of her warmest friends. Another gentleman, who enjoyed
a great reputation for piety, wrote her a letter full of ex-
cellent arguments, reproving her for allowing any honour
to be shown to her. He recalled to her the example of our
Lord and of the saints ; exhorted her to go home and live
in retirement, reminding her that the true servants of God
loved solitude above all things, and that only hypocrites
sought renown. Fra Bartholomew of Siena, who was one
of Catharine's companions at Pisa, says : " This letter was
forwarded under cover to Father Raymond, who communi-
cated its contents to me. We were very indignant, and
intended not to show the letter to Catharine, but to answer
the writer ourselves, and to reproach him with his im-
pertinence and ignorance of spiritual things. While we
were whispering together on the subject, Catharine per-
ceived us, and inquired whether anything was troubling us.
As soon as we told her, she claimed the letter, and when
we hesitated to give it to her, she said, ' If you refuse it
to me, I insist at least that you read to me what concerns
me in it.' Kaymond then read to her part of the letter,
and she rebuked us gently for feeling angry. ' You
ought,' she said, * to join with me in thanking the author
of that letter; he gives me very valuable advice. Do
you not see that he fears that I may wander from the
path of humility, and is anxious to save me from that
snare 1 Now, I must have that letter, and return thanks
to the writer of it.' She did so, in fact, at once, and in a

She refuses to converse with insincere persons. 139

most admirable manner. As Father Raymond, however,
would not accept her view of the matter, and continued
to protest that he would write himself, she gave him a very
severe look, and reproached him for discovering evil where
only good was intended."

" It often happened," says Raymond, " that persons
unknown to us, of honourable and respectable appearance,
but in reality addicted to vice, would present themselves
before Catharine. Having a marvellous insight into
character, she would refuse to look at them or answer
them when they addressed us ; and if they insisted, she
would say : * First, let us purify ourselves from our faults,
and escape from the bondage of Satan, and then we will
converse about God.' By this means she soon disencum-
bered us of the presence of many whom we afterwards
discovered to be incorrigible profligates."

Gerard Buonconti one day brought to her a young man
of twenty years of age, whose system was shattered by the
long continuance of a quotidian fever from which he was
then suffering. He had consulted many physicians in vain
he was so weak as scarcely to be able to stand to salute her.
Filled with pity for him, and seeking an interview alone
with him, she laid her hand on his shoulder, and gently
whispered to him concerning the weight which she saw to
be pressing on his soul. He was a stranger to prayer, to
true faith, and to peace. She charged him at once to pour
forth his heart in confession of all his past sins and
negligence. He met her advice with truthfulness and
simplicity, and conferred for some time after with good
Friar Thomas della Fonte, to whom Catharine had com-
mended him. He began at once to feel his soul lightened

140 Catlmrine of Siena.

and his body strengthened. She then said to him, " Go, my
son, in the peace of Jesus Chiist, who will hear thy prayer.
This fever will no more torment thee." Not many days
after, he returned in restored health, to render thanks to
her and to God ; his countenance was full of happiness and
joy, and he walked with a firm, elastic step. Kaymond saw
him some few years later on a journey through Pisa, and
affirmed that he had become so robust that he could not
have known him, had he not explained who he was. He
continued to be a faithful follower of Christ. Raymond
says, moreover, " I was witness of this work of healing,
and can say, like St. John, 'he who hath seen beareth
witness.' There were also others who witnessed it;
Catharine's host, and Lapa, Friar Thomas, Friar Bartholo-
mew, and all the devout women of Siena who had come
to Pisa with Catharine."

Catharine, like most of the Sienese, possessed a great love
and cultivated taste for music. She sometimes went in the
evening to hear the organ in the church of St. Stephen at Pisa,
where "the breeze gently waved the Turkish banners sus-
pended from the vaulted roofs, trophies of the valour of the
ancient Christian knights," no doubt suggesting thoughts of
the new crusade for which she hoped. On leaving this church
one evening she was met by a messenger, who conveyed to
her an urgent invitation from the community of the Car-
thusians established in Gorgon Island, to pay them a visit.
This little island is situated nearly half-way between
the Pisan shore and the most northerly cliffs of Corsica,
and about thirty miles from Leghorn. Dom Bartolommeo
of Eavenna was then prior of the Carthusian monastery
in that island. He and his monks had been more than

Visit to Goi-gon Island. 141

once obliged to defend themselves against bands of Sara-
cens, who landed and overran the fields which they had
cultivated, and attacked the convent in the hope of plunder.
A few years after the date of Catharine's visit, the Saracens
drove out the last of the poor religious, having murdered
many of their companions, and took possession of the island.
Dom Bartolommeo had often urged Catharine to spend a
few days in his island, that his brethren might profit hy
her instructions. " He entreated me," says Raymond, "to
second his request. Catharine consented, and we made the
voyage thither, to the number of about twenty persons.
We arrived a little after sunset ; the prior met us, and con-
ducted Catharine and her companions to the house where
they were to lodge, about a mile from the monastery. The
following morning he assembled all his monks outside
the convent, and entreated Catharine to address a few
words to them," It must have been an unusual spectacle,
that of a great community of monks assembled thus,
within no consecrated walls, but under the blue skies,
seated on the ground, in the shade of the olive trees, or
standing erect, and intent on all that passed ; the dyer's
daughter of Siena, in all the stern simplicity of her charac
ter, cheerful and frank in aspect and demeanour, silently
waiting till stillness had fallen upon the wondering and
obedient crowd ; her friends, Alessia, Cecca, Lysa, and
others, in their white gowns and dominican cloaks, grouped
around her ; Raymond, Dom Bartolommeo, and her
youthful secretary and knight, Neri di Landoccio, con-
ferring together as to the most suitable arrangements for
this singular audience, so that the speaker might be dis-
tinctly heard, and the hearers freed from all distraction.

142 Catharine of Siena.

One can imagine how grateful in this hot July or August
weather must have been the sea breezes from the blue
Mediterranean, so near that the splash of its waves upon
the shining pebbles of its tideless shore could be distinctly
heard ; and how pleasant the soft shade, the silence and
the calm, after the busy life and heat of the city. When
Catharine was requested, as Raymond says, to " favour
them with some words of edification," she at first declined,
" excusing herself on the grounds of her incapacity and her
sex ; saying that it was more meet that she should listen
to God's servants than that she should speak in their pre-
sence." Yielding at last to the earnest invitation of Father
Bartolommeo, and the murmured entreaties which ran
through the crowd of expectant monks, she began to speak,
" saying what the Holy Spirit inspired her to say in refer-
ence to the many illusions and temptations to which soli-
taries are liable, and concerning the means of triumphing
over them." Contemplating, as she spoke, the assembly
before her, she distinguished many a young face which
told a pathetic tale of disappointment, or of conflict, or
of yearning hope ; her maternal heart was moved to its
depths, and overcoming the constraint which she had
felt at first, she pleaded with them as a tender mother
with beloved sons, or as a loving sister with brethren.
Her clear voice was distinctly heard amidst the breath-
less silence which was maintained ; and there was, says
Kaymond, " so much method and ability in her discourse
that I was filled with amazement, as indeed were all her
audience." Another of her companions described her
eloquence, on this and on other occasions, as resembling
a flowing river : " She did not, like some orators, care-

Perils at Sea. 143

fully seek and select illustrations or flowers of oratory,
but her speech was like an impetuous torrent, which in
its onward flow drags into itself, and whirls along with it
all the flowers growing near, and profusely scattered
upon its banks." When she had ceased, and the gentle
murmur of the wondering and grateful assembly had
taken the place of the hushed stillness filled only by her
tender voice, the prior turned to Raymond and whispered :
•'Dear brother Raymond, I am the confessor of all these
brethren and disciples, and know the hearts of each ; and
I assure you that if this saintly lady had herself heard
all their confessions, she could not have spoken in a more
just and suitable manner ; she perceived all their wants,
and did not utter a word Avhich was not useful to them.
It is evident that she speaks by the inspiration of God."
The following evening Catharine and her company em-
barked again for Pisa ; at midnight the wind lowered to
a dead calm, and the pilot of their little vessel became
very anxious. " We are in a dangerous channel," says
Raymond ; " if the wind from the north, which usually
follows such a calm, had risen upon us, we should have
been thrown upon some rocky islands, or drifted into
the open sea. I spoke to Catharine of our danger. She
answered in her accustomed tone, ' Why do you give
way to distraction ? There is no cause for fear.' I re-
mained silent, for I was reassured by her calmness ; but
soon the wind veered in the direction dreaded by the
pilot, and I drew her attention to it. ' Let him change
the helm, in the name of God,' she said, ' and sail in the
direction of the wind which heaven shall send him, and
not against it.' The pilot obeyed, and our vessel turned

144 CatJmrine of Siena.

its back on the shore whither we were destined. We
were all troubled in mind, but she continued in prayer, with
her hands clasped and her head bent forward ; and we had
not advanced far before the favourable wind that had for-
saken us, blew afresh, and we sailed quickly towards the
shore of Italy. We arrived at the desired port at the hoiu:
of matins, singing the Te Deum as we touched the shore."

In the autumn Catharine and her friends returned to Siena;
as the winter approached, some increase of bodily strength
was granted to her, and in the silence of her little room at
the Fullonica she sought wisdom, insight, and force for the
greater labours to which she was yet to be called.

The condition of Italy became more and more calami-
tous. We have already seen how the Eepublic of Siena
had been distracted by the rivalries of its different poli-
tical factions. The whole of Lombardy was ravaged by
" those wild beasts "^ the Visconti. The kingdom of
Naples, under the influence of the disorderly court of
Queen Joanna, became a prey to rival parties, to unruly
passions, and to wars of revenge. The state of Rome,
abandoned by its popes, was still worse. In the midst
of its desolation there yet remained, however, a remnant
of its ancient spirit, which for a time enabled it to re-
assert its liberties under Rienzi, " the last of the tribunes,"
whose revolution Avas the most prominent event of the
fourteenth century in Rome. Catharine of Siena was the
faithful ally of Rienzi in the earlier part of his career.
Neither the efforts of Rienzi, however, nor the warnings
of Catharine were sufficient to avert the impending cal:i-

1 Villani, L. ix., Ch. 10.3.

Treachery of Bernahos Visconti. 145

mities of Italy and of the Church. The Tribune fell a
victim to his own weakness in embracing the luxurious
manner of life against which he had at first protested, and
lost the confidence of the people who had proclaimed him
the liberator of Italy. The prophetic spirit of Catharine
foresaw the great approaching defection ; but she looked
beyond that, to a time when Christendom, purified by still
greater afflictions than those which befell it during her own
life, would return to its primitive simplicity and " acknow-
ledge the Saviour who had redeemed it by his own blood."
Bernabos Visconti, Duke of Milan, continued to incite
the whole of the north of Jtaly to rebellion against the
Pope, while Gregory ceased not to send his fighting legates
one after the other with their large armies of mercenary
Bretons, English, and Germans, to out-manoeuvre the move-
ments of Bernabos. He publicly excommunicated him and
his captains. Bernabos, requiring time for the recruiting
of his forces, resorted to dissimulation in order to obtain
it. He sent Andria Doria of Genoa as his ambassador
to Avignon to convey to the Pope his submission, and
implore his pardon. Gregory, who was pacific and timid
by nature, readily granted it. Bernabos, however, in the
meanwhile had made his preparations for a treacherous
attack first upon Genoa and the Doria family, of whose
services he was availing himself ; and, secondly, upon
the pontifical allied army. The revulsion in the mind
of Gregory, on learning this, was very great, and he
swore to undertake a war of extermination against the
Visconti. More than ten Italian cities submitted to the
furious attack of his legates ; for indeed the people were
not sorry to be thus forcibly relieved from the Milanese

L

146 Catluinne of Siena.

tyranny. An unexpected revolution, however, occurred,
which checked the success of the papal army and changed
the course of events. The powerful republic of Florence,
hitherto so loyal to the Church, now rose up with great
vehemence against its authority.

It is not necessary to give in all their details the causes
of this revolt ; it is enough to say that it was more than
justified by the oppressive government of the pontifical
legates. The long course of crimes, treasons, and cruel-
ties of which these legates had been guilty against the
Florentine subjects of the Pope was crowned by an act
which proved to be more than their patience could en-
dure. During a season of great scarcity, when the
harvests of Tuscany barely sufficed for the nourishment
of the starving citizens, the legates sent their own soldiers
into the fields to reap the corn ; this they shipped off in
their galleys from the ports of Leghorn and Genoa to be
conveyed to other ports, where they received good prices
for the cargoes. At the same time they forbade the
importation to Tuscany of the corn of the Campagna.
These measures, executed with a high hand and under
pretence of "teaching a salutary lesson of humility to
the Florentines," excited that people to fury ; and in the
streets of this hitherto loyal and orthodox city were now
to be seen crowds of rebels crying, " Down with the
government of the priests ! Viva la Liberta ! " They
burnt the convents, forced the prisons, and published a
plebiscite abolishing for ever the horrible institution of
the Inquisition. They suppressed the canonical tribunals,
and abandoned the clergy to popular vengeance as the
enemies of the public good. The news of this revolution

BevoU of Florence. 147

filled the heart of Catharine with dismay. She had already
laboured assiduously, by her letters to Pope Gregory, to the
Signory of Florence, aud to the Visconti, to restore peace,
by bringing each to the recognition of the true principles
which should govern the State and the Church. She had
entreated the Pope no longer to leave the conduct of his
affairs in the hands of the worldly and rapacious legates, and
had counselled the Florentines to endeavour to come to an
understanding with the sovereign pontiff by means of an
embassy to Avignon, rather than by resorting to arms.
Secretly in her heart she had determined not to rest until
the Pope should resume his responsibilities in Italy; this
aim she never lost sight of, and never ceased to commend
it to God in prayer until she saw its accomplishment.

Gregory trembled when he heard of the revolt of his
faithful Florentines, and began to be even in fear of his
own furious legates, who had exceeded so far the powers
entrusted to them. He wrote as follows to the magistrates
of Florence : " As for ourselves, we take God and man
to witness that it is not through our will or fault that
these wrongs of which you complain have been perpetrated.
Dear children, we warn you, we beseech you, we implore
you to put away this tumult of your spirits, and to return
to God. Consider the horrible misfortunes which will result
from this revolution. Make restitution for the crimes you
have committed against the Church, and we shall grant
to you abundantly our apostolic benediction." This letter
had no effect in allaying the approaching storm, though
the most moderate of the republican leaders employed their
utmost efforts to prevent the outrages committed by the
enraged and hunger-stricken people. The refuse of the

l2

148 Catharine of Siena.

population living on the banks of the Arno, fell with
violence upon a Chartreuse convent in Florence, drag-
ged out the prior, who had assisted the legates in their
great corn robberies, and tortured him to death in the most
horrible manner. They roasted him alive by the river side,
tearing off his flesh with pincers, and throwing it to the
dogs. The laughter and mockery of the people were
mingled with the howling of the dogs as they quarrelled
over their horrible repast. The spirit of revolt spread like
a conflagration. The red flag bearing the word " Libertas "
in letters of silver was carried to Viterbo, Orvieto, Spoleto,
Todi, and many other cities. Perugia drove out from her
midst her cardinal and all the priests. The whole country'
re-echoed with the cry of "Down with the Church." The
brigand chief Hawkwood, hearing in this cry the promise
of great gains for his mercenaries, forsook the banner of
the Church, which he had degraded, and went over to the
^service of the rebels, who offered him high pay. The soul
of Gregory was desolated with the news of this wide-
spread revolt, for he perfectly understood that this hatred
against the Church was bound up with deep sentiments
of patriotism and the love of freedom, and that it
could not be denounced as an unmixed evil. He had re-
course to ecclesiastical weapons. He excommunicated the
Florentines and all their adherents, as contumacious rebels.
The city was placed under an interdict; he ordered all
the churches to be closed, and prohibited the administra-
tion of the Sacraments. All commercial treaties with the
Florentines were declared null, and the nations were
warned to have no dealings with them. It was for-
bidden, under pain of excommunication, to furnish the

The Florentines Excommunicated. 149

city with corn, wine, or wood. The seizure of their mer-
chandise was declared to be legitimate ; the right to make
testaments and to inherit property was forbidden them.
They were declared the slaves and the offscouring of the
world. ^ The Florentines met these ecclesiastical fulmina-
tions at first with derision and scorn. Gradually, however,
they saw their great merchants emigrating and establishing
themselves in London, Canterbury, Norwich, &c. They
found the merchants of other cities unwilling to deal with
them ; their vessels and their agents were shunned ; their
commerce Avas almost destroyed. The more sober of the
revolutionists resolved to attempt a reconciliation with the
Pope. Two ambassadors were selected, one of whom was
the generous "captain of the people," Barbadori. They set
out for Avignon. Gregory granted them a public audience
in the great hall of the Consistory. The ambassadors pros-
trated themselves before him, and kissed the apostolic feet.
Barbadori then stood upright; and in a voice tremulous with
emotion, he addressed the Pontiff in his beautiful Tuscan
tongue, wliich was not understood by Gregory, except
through the medium of an interpreter, " Most holy father,"
he said, " we beseech you, listen to us as an equitable judge,
and not as one of a party. If you had sent to the Italian
cities good legates or prefects, who, instead of exercising
an accursed tyranny, would have caused your power to
be reverenced, you would never have had anything ■with
which to reproach us, and we shoiild never have had to
plead our own defence. Your legates ought to have
remembered that they were not dealing with barbarians

^ Bull of Gregory XL Raynaldus, "Eccles. Annals."

150 Catharine of Siena.

or Turks, but with Christians and free republicans. Their
tyranny has passed all bounds ; they are guilty of all crimes.
Beasts without reason even know how to distinguish good
from bad management : they submit to the one and resist
the other. Men are not worse than beasts if they revolt
against misrule." He then describes the conduct of the
legates, and the reaping of the cornfields of Tuscany by the
papal troops, and recounts the long history of the fidelity
of Florence to the Church. He concludes thus : " If your
legates, holy father, have acted with your authority, which
we cannot believe, we come to complain to you frankly of
the injustice of the Roman Church. If, on the contrary,
they have acted without your sanction, it was they who
deserved to be punished, and not the people of Florence.
If you do not condemn them, and if you suffer your anger
to fall only on those who have resisted their wickedness, we
must appeal to the supreme judgment of God and to the
verdict of public opinion." The speech of Barbadori pro-
duced a great sensation in the assembled consistory. The
Pope, who had resolved, at the advice of his cardinals,
not to speak one word himself to the ambassadors, was
so moved, that he spoke nevertheless, under a certain
impulse of pity and generosity, promising henceforward
to deal equitably with the Florentines, and by means of
carefully appointed officers in place of the cardinal legates.
For several days after this interview, consistories continued
to be held, in which the most violent opposition of
opinion prevailed. The Italian cardinals were in favour
of pacific measures towards their countrymen. The
French cardinals, who were in a large majority, and
who were unable to form any conception of the moral

Appeal to tlie Justice of God. 151

force and passionate love of liberty of the Italian people,
cried out for inexorable and violent measures. The
ambassadors were again admitted on the fourth day to
receive the pontifical decision. Excommunication and
interdiction, with all their terrible results, were to be
maintained, and war was again declared. The two am-
bassadors stood silent and apparently stupefied, for several
minutes. Barbadori seemed to be oppressed with a deep
sadness ; but at last he broke silence. Looking around
him, and seeing none but enemies, he advanced towards the
great crucifix at the end of the consistorial hall, and in a
voice of solemn entreaty and defiance, pronounced these
words : " Great God ! we, deputies from the Florentine
people, appeal to thee and to thy justice from the unjust
sentence of thy vicar. 0 thou, who canst never err, and
whose anger is ever tempered with mercy, thou who
wiliest that the peoples of the earth shall be free and not
enslaved ; thou who abhorrest the tyrant, be thou this day
the help and tlie shield of the Florentine people, who in thy
name will strive for their rights and their liberties." i The
ambassadors then left the room, and returned to Florence
with their sorrowful tidings.

The hatred of the people against the ecclesiastical
government now became still greater than before. They
spoke even of abandoning the Christian faith, and es-
tablishing another creed and another worship. Vast
preparations were made at Avignon for the renewal of
the war. Cardinal Robert, Count of Geneva, took the
command of 10,000 men, composed chiefly of Germans

' St. Antoniuus, "History of the Pontificate," Tit. xxii

152 CatJiarine of Siena.

and Bretons. The advance of Cardinal Eobert upon the
revolted republics, and the horrible massacre of Cesena,
executed under his orders, have been already alluded to.
From the smaller cities he advanced towards Florence.
The people and signory of Florence, in dread of his
approach, once more took counsel together on the possibility
of again making overtures of peace.

Catharine, as we have seen, had been living at theFullonica,
after her mission to Lucca, Pisa, and Gorgona already
described. She had been in correspondence during the
winter with the magistrates and other citizens of all the
revolted cities. On New Year's Day of 1376 she was
attacked with a low fever, which lasted to the end of April.
Father Raymond, who had been on some religious mission
to Florence, returned from that city to Siena at the begin-
ning of May. He lost no time in visiting his friend, whom
he found stretched on her little bed, and suffering extremely.
He sat down and recounted to her all the details of that
terrible revolution in Florence which has just been described,
and of the unsuccessful embassy to Avignon. Catharine
listened in silence, and for several hours was plunged in
deep sorrow. Her prayers offered up for so many years
seemed not to have been heard. The peace of Christen-
dom and the refoi'm of the Church, which she so ardently
desired, appeared to be farther off than ever. Great
darkness and depression took possession of her soul
during those sad hours. Raymond reports a few words
of bitter anguish which escaped her during the day, not
addressed to him nor to any man, but apparently the
expression of a great inward conflict. Towards evening
she arose, though scarcely able to stand upright ; then

Her Letters to Gi'egory XL 153

for an hour she remained prostrated at the foot of a crucifix
in her room, in an agony of prayer. " She arose from that
attitude," says Chavin de Malan, "with the fortunes of
Christendom in her hand ; her voice was now to be heard
above all the discordant voices of the world ; and she was
about to trace with a firm, unfaltering hand the path in
which men ought to walk." The same evening, before she
slept, she wrote a letter to Gregory XI. The purport of
this letter, which is of great length and full of eloquent
pleadings, was to convince Gregory that it was his duty to
return without delay to Italy. She pointed out to him,
with the indignation of a true patriot, how the interests of
her country were made of no account in comparison with
the satisfaction of the avarice, and lust of power and of
pleasure, of its delegated rulers. She described to him how
his bishopric of Rome was misgoverned, and how infidelity
or indifference had taken possession of men's minds. She
says, " I wish {io voglio) that j^ou should be a true and
faithful pastor, one who would be willing, had he a hundred
thousand lives, to sacrifice them all for the honour of God
and the love of humanity." " Do all that is in your power,"
she continues, "and having done so, you will be exonerated
before God and man. . . . Do not imagine that you
can reduce your subjects to submission by the sword. Y^ou
will never succeed with them unless 3'ou use weapons of
benignity and grace. . . . The spirit of strife and the
absence of virtue, these are two things which are causing
the Church to lose ground more and more. If you wish
to recover what you have lost, your only means of doing
so is to retrace your steps, and to reconquer your lost
dominions by the encouragement of virtue and by peace.

164 Catharine of Siena.

Pardon, beloved father, my presumptuous boldness. I
crave your benediction." Nicolo Tommaseo says : " Catha-
rine saw it necessary to strike at the root of the evil,
which was the immorality of the clergy and the odious
government of the papal legates." De Malan says : " The
letters which Catharine wrote at this time to Gregory
initiate us into a new kind of diplomacy, very unlike that
generally resorted to." These wonderful despatches of the
dyer's daughter were carried to the Pope by a poor monk
of La Chartreuse. About a week later she sent him other
letters by the hand of Neri de Landoccio the young Sienese
nobleman who had now been for three years her secretary.
Again and again she wrote to Gregory, pleading with him
boldly and frankly, at times as a child with a father, at
others as a wise and stern monitor. " Consider," she says,
" these two evils before you ; on the one hand your tem-
poral possessions, of which you are being deprived, and on
the other, the souls which are being lost to you. Which
evil is the worst 1 Open the eyes of your intelligence, and
look steadily at this matter. You will then see, holy
father, that of the two evils the latter is by far the worst,
and that it is more needful for you to win back souls than
to reconquer your earthly possessions. . . . You now
place your confidence in your soldiers, those devourers
of human flesh ; and your good desires for the reform of
the Church are hindered. Place your hope rather in
Christ crucified, and in the good government of the
Church by virtuous pastors; let it please your Holiness
to seek out true and humble servants of God as pastors
in the Church, men who desire nothing but the glory of
God and the salvation of souls. Alas ! what corruption

She urges the Befatm of the Church. 155

and confusion we now see. Those who should be models
of virtue and simplicity, those who ought to be stewards
of the wealth of the Church for the good of the poor and
of erring souls, are a thousand times more entangled in the
luxury and vanities of the world than the laity ; for, in-
deed, man}'- of the laity put the pastors to shame by their
pure and holy lives. It seems, indeed, that eternal justice
is now permitting to be done by force that which is not
done for love's sake. It seems that God permits the Church
to be robbed of her power and wealth in order to teach her
that he wills her to return to her primitive state of poverty
and humility, and of regard for spiritual rather than tem-
poral things ; for ever since she has sought temporal posses-
sions, things have gone from bad to worse. It seems just,
indeed, that he should permit her such great tribulations.
Open your eyes, father, and see what these people are who
are called apostles of the flock, and how they devour the
poor; how their souls are filled with greed and hatred; and
how they have made their bodies vessels of every kind
of abomination." She pleads with gentle charity for the
rebels: "We are in sympathy with you, holy father, and
I know that it is thought by all that your revolted sub-
jects have done ill, and are without excuse. Neverthe-
less, on account of their great sufferings under bad pastors
and rulers, and the unjust and iniquitous dealings of the
latter, it has seemed to them that they could not act
otherwise. They have been infected by the conduct of
some of the great captains, who, as you know, are devils
incarnate ; and they have also acted under the influence
of fear. Mercy, my father ! I ask mercy for them. Pity
the ignorance of your children ; give them some salutary

156 Catharine of Siena.

discipline, if it pleases yoTi : but oh ! grant us peace. . . .
Come back to your distracted flock and your country, to the
place of your predecessor, the Apostle Peter. Do not delay
■ — do not fear ; for God will be with you. ... I should be
very blamable if I wrote thus to you with the idea of teach-
ing you a lesson. I am constrained only by love of the
truth, and the strong desire which I have to see you, gentle
and beloved father, in peace and quietude, for I see that at
present you cannot have an hour of either."

The Pope had hitherto commanded sixty episcopal
cities in Italy, and one thousand five hundred fortified
places. These cities were, for the most part, now in-
cluded in the league of rebellion against him, and his
dominion was now " reduced to a few meagre strips of
land." Catharine having despatched her letters to the
Pope, set herself to write earnest appeals to the govern-
ments of all the republics Avith whom slie had any per-
sonal influence. She prevailed with Lucca and Pisa to
maintain their allegiance to the Pontiflf; and she put
forth all her strength of persuasion to restrain the Ghi-
belline leaders of Florence from further violence. Some
of the gravest of the Florentine citizens, with Nicolas
Soderini at their head, supported by the ruined and de-
spondent merchants, determined to wait upon the Eight,
or Council of War, to beseech them to make terms of
peace with the Pope. For, it must be observed that the
former government of Florence had been superseded by
eight rulers elected by the people, and designated the
"Eight of War" ("Otto della Guerra"). These men
were chosen for their resolute and warlike dispositions,
and promptitude in action. They were members of the

Her mission of pacification to Floi'ence. 157

Ghibelline, or popular party. Nicolas Soderini was a
man of illustrious family, in politics on the side of the
Ghibellines. He had been chosen as Gonfalonier of Justice
in 1371, and was held in high esteem by the republic, on
account of his impartiality and moderation in all political
contests, and his tried patriotism. The Council of War,
overawed by this Aveighty deputation, consented to take
measures for a reconciliation with Gregory. The sincerity
of their desire for peace was, however, from the first,
doubted by Soderini. They owed their high position to
the emergency of the actual revolt, and the prospect of
continued war. The establishment of peace would be the
conclusion of their term of power; they had experienced
the fascinations of office, and, yielding to the dictates of
selfish ambition, they soon became, as we shall see, very
half-hearted seconders of those who desired to see an end
of this disastrous strife. Soderini had heard much of
Catharine, and believing that her influence with the Pope
would be greater than that of any of the counsellors of
Florence or princes of Tuscany, advised that she should be
invited to act as mediator. The Council of War conse-
quently commissioned Soderini to go to Siena and negotiate
this matter with Catharine. Catharine at once left the
Fullonica and proceeded to Florence. She saw that the
efforts of man had failed, and she thought she read in the
appeal to herself, a confession on the part of the Florentines
that their hopes must now be placed in God and in those
whose strength is derived from God. The magistrates and
chief citizens of Florence came out of the city to meet her,
and conduct her to the house of Soderini, whose guest she
was to be.

158 Catharine of Siena.

It was the middle of the month of May when Catharine
entered Florence.^ She had been there two years pre-
viously, to attend a chapter of the Preaching Friars and a
high festival of the Brothers and Sisters of St. Dominic.
She could not have failed to contrast the circumstances of
the two visits. When she first saw Florence, nature was
smiling and gay, such as those can imagine it who have
seen that beautiful city in spring ; the bells were ringing,
and the busy people working in the open air, were singing
and laughing while at work. All was activity and hopeful
life. But iww there rested such a blight upon the city as
we can only picture by endeavouring to understand the
vast and terrible influence of certain great religious ideas
or superstitions of the time. The curse which had been
pronounced acted like the destroying breath of some
pestilential vapour, blighting the social life of the people,
drying up the sources of their activities, and isolating them
from the brotherhood of the world, as outlaws and
criminals. The fields still bore traces of the war ; the city
was in deep mourning, and its excommunicated people
loitered sad and inactive, on the banks of the Arno. That
river, at other times so alive with the commerce and traflSc
of all nations, now flowed sullenly beneath its untenanted
vessels, whose sails drooped idly. The splendid mer-
chandise which formerly was seen passing to and fro, was

1 In an old manuscript at Siena, cited by G. P. Burlamacchi in his
notes upon Catharine's letters, there occur these words — almost the
only notice we have of her previous visit to Florence: — "There
came to Florence in May, 1374, during the chapter of the Friar
Preachers, . . . one dressed in the habit of St. Dominic, whom they
called Catharine, daughter of Giacomo of Siena. "

Florence under the Papal Curse. 159

seen no more ; the storehouses and ateliers were closed, and
on all sides resounded complaints, weeping, recriminations,
curses, and cries of revolt. The celebration of the mass and
all religious services had been interdicted, and the churches
were forsaken. It is not to be wondered at that all eyes
should have been directed to that poorly -dressed and fragile
woman as she entered the city, the mediator elected by the
Eight of War, on whom all their hopes seemed now to
depend ; and that curiosity should have prompted crowds
of people to watch the gateway of Soderini's palace, in
order to see her as she passed out and in on her diplomatic
errands to the various political leaders.

Catharine spent fifteen days in Florence, making herself
completely mistress of the whole case in which she was
called to take so prominent a part. Her days were spent
in consultation with the chiefs of the different parties in
the republic, in endeavouring to calm the agitation which
prevailed, and to promote a common agreement upon some
patriotic and energetic action, which she urged them to
adopt, apart from all political jealousies among themselves.
At the end of this time all parties agreed to request her,
as a favour, to undertake for them a mission of pacification
to the papal court at Avignon, promising that chosen
ambassadors should follow her in a few weeks. Catha-
rine accepted the responsibility. She sent her faithful
Raymond on in advance to speak with the Pontiflf, and
prepare him for her arrival. The Florentine republic
saw no further than the one important object they had
at heart, the removal of the papal ban, and the restoration
of their blighted commerce and civil life ; but Catharine
had larger ends in view. She cherished in her heart the

160 Catharine of Siena.

hope of accomplishing three great objects : the restoration
of peace between the Pope and his revolted subjects, his
own return to Italy, and the organization of a crusade.
Although weak and suffering in health, she set out, in
the first week of June, upon this momentous embassy.^
Few details of this journey are preserved. Travelling
then was slow and difficult, and several weeks Avei'e oc-
cupied in traversing the route to Avignon. That the
journey was performed by land appears from the Bull of
Pius II. for the canonization of Catharine, in which appear
the words, "to reconcile the Florentines and the Church,
she did not hesitate to cross the Apennines and the Alps in
order to reach Gregory, our predecessor."

We can only imagine what the toils and what the
pleasures of that journey may have been, along the beau-
tiful Riviera, passing beyond the maritime Alps and
the Esterels, by Frejus and Toulon to Marseilles, and
thence, through the flat and desolate portions of the
department of the Bouches du Rhone, entering the sunny
and verdant land of Provence. Catharine, impatient
to reach her destination, lost no time on the way; but
Stephen informs us that sometimes when they came
in sight of a mass of lovely mountain flowers, her face
would flush with pleasure, and she would call upon her
fellow-travellers to admire their colours; and that "on
descrying an anthill she said, * those little creatures came
from the sacred thought of God ; and he used as much
care in forming the flowers and insects as in creating

1 •• Laborem non recusavit, et fiduciam gerens in Domino operia
exequendi iter assumpsit debilis corpore." — S. Antoninus.

The Jov/mey to Avignon. 161

the holy angels.' " A large company travelled with her ;
among them, Stephen Maconi, who had come with her to
Florence ; Neri, her secretary ; Felix da Marta ; a certain
Brother Guido ; Neri dei Pagliaresi ; Nicolo di Mino
Cicerchi, and John Tantucci, the theological doctor of
Cambridge, a man of science, who at first had been a
severe critic of Catharine's actions, "strongly suspecting
any virtue which did not lie in the line of his own ex-
perience and attainments," but who became later her earnest
friend and coadjutor. She was joined by the generous
brothers Buonconti, from Pisa, who arranged for the ac-
commodation of the travellers on the many nights they
were obliged to rest on the journey ; and, finally, three of
her Mantellatas accompanied her.

M

CHAPTER VI.

The last long, hot day of journeying was over, and
the evening dews were falling, when Catharine and her
friends entered Avignon, on the 18th of June, 1376. Pope
Gregory had given orders that she should be well re-
ceived, and he placed at her disposal, for the accommo-
dation of herself and her friends, the palace of an absent
cardinal, with the chapel attached to it. After two days
allowed for repose, Catharine was summoned to the
presence of Gregory. The papal palace stood on the
summit of the rock of the Domes, commanding a mag-
nificent view of the Rhone and the surrovmding country.
Each succeeding Pope of the " Captivity " had added
something to its splendour. By the side of this French
Vatican stood the ancient basilica of Notre-dame-des-
Doms, on one side of which were the cloisters of Charle-
magne and on the other the houses of the canons — gothic
buildings with massive buttresses. The great hall of the
Consistory and the hall of public audiences had been
lavishly decorated with paintings and sculpture by Clement
VI. The galleries of the palace, the broad marble stair-
cases, the colonnades, the exquisite gardens, with their

Embassy to Avignon. 163

fountains and rare flowers, the suites of luxurious apart-
ments softly cushioned, and perfumed with the most
delicious odours, have all been described by annalists of
the Papacy, and praised in the quaint songs of the trouba-
dours. It was to such a scene of almost oriental luxury
and magnificence that the poor daughter of the wool- dyer
of Siena was introduced. After she had ascended the
winding road leading up the rock of the Domes, she was
conducted to the hall of the Consistory, where the Pope
and the cardinals were assembled in solemn state. Gregory
was majestically seated on a magnificent chair, the cardinals,
robed in purple, forming a circle round him. The royal
grandeur of the supreme pontiff must have presented a
striking contrast to the simplicity and poverty of Catharine,
attired in her white serge gown and her carefully-patched
Dominican cloak. Antoninus, in his chronicles of Florence,
says that there reigned in her the authority of one who
comes direct from the presence of God, charged with a
message from him to men. She evinced no timidity or em-
barrassment in the presence of the princes and potentates
of earth, for she realized the presence of one greater than
they, the King of kings, whom she served. Gregory re-
garded for a moment with silent astonishment this poor
and self-possessed ambassador from the proud Florentine
republic, but he saw in her also the generous woman who
had written to him with so much affectionate candour, giv-
ing him such wise and severe advice as none of his princely
counsellors would or could have offered to him. He felt
her power even before she had spoken. It was evident
to those who observed the interview that her ascendency
over the mind of Gregory was complete from the first

M 2

164 Caihanne of Siena.

moment.i She addressed the pontiff in the dialect of
Tuscany, Raymond acting as interpreter, and Gregory re-
plied in Latin. After a prolonged conversation, during
which Catharine exposed in a brief and masterly manner
the circumstances of the Florentine rebellion, and the
present condition of mind of the citizens, Gregory said :
"I commit the treaty of peace wholly to your decision.
This is a proof to you that I truly desire peace. I wish the
negotiation to rest entirely in your hands ; and I entrust to
you the honour of the Church."

Raymond says that he and the others present at that
interview can affirm before God and man that the holy
father committed the treaty of peace and interests of the
Church into the hands of the Mantellata. Gregory then
retired, and the cardinals also, the latter to consult together
concerning the effect upon their own personal interests
which the spiritual authority of this strange visitor might
possibly have.

The Eight of War of Florence had made an engage-
ment with Catharine to the effect that as soon as she
should have won the Pope to terms of peace they would
send several of their weightiest citizens as ambassadors to
sign the articles of the treaty. But the time passed on,
and no ambassadors arrived. Morning after morning and
evening after evening Catharine sent out her scouts, Neri
and her faithful Stephen, to look for their coming; but
in vain. Sick at heart, she endeavoured, but with little
success, to beat back the suspicions which haunted her,

1 " Veramente assai eflBcace e pronto fu I'imperio di Catarina
sopra Tanimo del papa."— Capecelatko, Storia di <S'. Catarina e del
Papato del stio Tempo.

Embassy to Avignon. 165

of treachery on the part of the Florentine leaders to the
cause which they had committed to her. The fidelity of
Soderini, however, she refused to doubt. " Thou, mine
own familiar friend, whom I trusted," she said to herself,
" thou assuredly hast not joined hands with traitors." The
bitterness of the internal conflict induced by this suspense,
which lasted several weeks, may be seen in her letters ad-
dressed at that time to friends in Florence. Immediately
after her first interview with Gregory she had written, in
all the joy of her heart, to inform the Eight of War of the
happy result of that interview, beseeching them to send
their ambassadors without delay to sign the terms of peace ;
but she had received no reply ; and meanwhile rumours
had reached Avignon of a fresh outrage against the Church
perpetrated by the Eight of War, in the form of an oppres-
sive tax levied upon the clergy of Florence, which occa-
sioned the ruin of the humbler priests. She wrote to the
Eight of War : " I have much reason to complain of you,
inasmuch as I hear you have put a very heavy tax on the
clergy. If this be true, it is a great wrong, on two ac-
counts ; first, because you have no right to do such a thing,
and cannot do it with a good conscience before God ; and,
secondly, because by this step you will destroy the hopes
of the peace which the holy father is ready to conclude.
He will now only feel a greater indignation than ever
against you. One of the cardinals, who really desires
peace, said to me : ' It seems to me that the Florentines are
not sincere in desiring peace ; for if they were, they would
avoid at this moment all that is irritating to the Holy See.'
And I think he is right. You do me personally a great
wrong, and put me to shame before the world, seeing that I

166 Catharine of Siena.

am maintaining one mode of speech while you maintain
another. I cannot tell you how great was my joy when,
after a long interview, the holy father said to me, in con-
clusion, that, if matters at Florence were indeed as I had
told him, he was, on his part, disposed to do all that you
wished ; but you are aware that he will not give a public
and definite answer until the arrival of j^our ambassadors.
I am astonished that these have not yet joined us. As soon
as they come I shall see them, and I shall again see the holy
father, and I will then write to you without delay of the
results arrived at. But do not go and root up all the good
seed which has been sown, with your taxes, and your evil
reports, and your delays. For the love of Christ, consider
your OAvn best interests ! " She wrote, moreover, to many
of the most influential citizens, urging them to use their
influence with the Eight. It became more and more ap-
parent, however, that the Eight of War, while talking of
peace, secretly desired to prolong the breach. Gregory
said one day to Catharine : " Believe me," my daughter,
" they are playing the part of hypocrites. The ambassadors
will not come, or if they do, they will come without ample
powers to treat for peace." And so it proved to be. It
was not until nearly two years after this that Catharine
saw the end of her labours attained. Meanwhile she
began to perceive that this delay, which was so severe a
trial for herself, and so great a risk for the peace she
ardently desired, was providentially overruled to serve an
end yet more important than the immediate conclusion
of peace between Florence and the Pope. The long weeks
of her enforced residence at Avignon gave her the op-
portunity of becoming more intimately acquainted with

Embassy to Avignon. 167

Gregory, of sounding his feelings concerning his speedy
return to Rome, and of maintaining that long and difficult
conflict M'ith his irresolution and with the opposition of the
cardinals, which, as we shall see, had to be encountered be-
fore the great exodus could be accomplished. She laboured
night and day towards this end. Among her published
prayers there is one, designated " a prayer made at Avig-
non," in which she dedicates herself afresh to the service of
God, and pours forth her heart in sorrowful pleadings for
her country and for all mankind. She prays also for
Gregory : " I implore thy boundless mercy, Lord, for thy
bride, the Church, and I beseech thee to enlighten thy vicar
on earth, that he may know thy will, and love and obey it.
Give him, my God, a new heart ; increase thy grace in him ;
make him strong to bear the standard of the holy cross,
and dispose him to carry to the infidels the treasures of
thy mercy, which we have received through the passion
of the spotless Lamb. Change the hearts of the people
who desire war, and give us peace, that we perish not."

The ambassadors arrived at last. Catharine's heart beat
high with hope, but only for a moment; she perceived at
the first glance that these were the ambassadors only of
the Eight of War, and not of the republic of Florence.
The Pope had given her full powers to treat on behalf of
the Church, and the Eight of War had engaged to support
her efforts, and ratify such terms as she should approve.
She hastened, therefore, to meet them, and, with a smiling
face, congratulated them on their arrival. They received her
coldly. Cavaliere Strozzi, speaking for all, said : " We
have come to confer with the holy father ; we have received
no power whatever to treat with you;" and they turned

168 Catharine of Siena.

their backs on her. Catharine retired to her secret cham-
ber in the absent cardinal's palace. The weakness of her
womanhood triumphed for a moment over the courage of
that robust and heroic spirit, and she wept bitterly. But
she resorted, as was her wont, to earnest prayer, and arose
from her knees strengthened to prolong the struggle. The
letter which she wrote that evening to Buonaccorso di Lapo,
a powerful citizen of Florence, is full of sadness : " I have
not been able to confer with your ambassadors, as you
promised me. You are using strange methods to obtain
peace : this affair will never be rightly managed except by
true servants of God, freed from self-love and ambition.
I have done, and will do all I can, even to death." The
negotiations between the ambassadors and the Pope had no
result, except to postpone the conclusion of peace, and the
former returned to Florence.

Catharine continued to have frequent audiences with
Gregory, and with true womanly tact she availed herself
of these in order to awaken his conscience to a sense of his
responsibility to his Italian subjects and of the necessity of
his return to Rome.

Gregory was a weak and irresolute man. The morality
of his life has never been impugned. He was naturally
inclined to good, and, although surrounded on all sides
by an atmosphere of moral turpitude, he maintained a
blameless life ; but he was no hero ; he had but little of
that in him which Catharine so much admired in the
noblest of her countrymen, the virility, the power of self-
sacrifice and endurance, of which she so frequently makes
mention in her letters. He was bom in France, and had
never been in Italy ; he loved his native land, though

The Character of Gregon-y. 169

not exactly as a patriot loves his country ; he enjoyed his
beautiful residence at Avignon, and yielded to the enervating!
influences of the luxury and magnificence which surrounded
him. The scandalous life of some of the cardinals and I
other prelates gave him pain, but he avoided as much as \
possible the knowledge and mention of it. It was not in \
him to rebuke or restrain the excesses of his Court, J
although he never by his acts or words encouraged or made
light of the prevailing laxity of morals ; he led a life of ease
and enjoyment, forming at times good resolutions, and
capable even of enthusiasm when a noble example was for
a moment presented to him.

In order to reach the apartments of Gregory, Catharine
had to pass, with Raymond, through a suite of state rooms,
unparalleled, it was said, in the whole world for magnificence.
From the windows they looked out upon a wide expanse of
undulating country, watered by the Rhone and the Durance,
studded with lordly castles and bounded by the mountains
of Beaucaire, and Vjy the hills of Vauclause and the distant
Alps. Masterpieces of art arrested the eye at every step.
There were rare manuscripts and gorgeously illuminated
missals, lying open upon tables of inlaid marbles, or on desks
of carved oak and ebony. Gregory took pleasure in showing
his treasures to his Italian visitors. One day Catharine
remained for a long time apparently engrossed in the study
of one of these volumes. Gregory had been standing, alone
and silent by her side ; at last he said, " It is here that I
find repose for my soul, in study, and in the contemplation
of nature." She raised her head, looked as it were into his
soul, and, in a tone of inspiration, said to him, " In the
name of God, and for the fulfilment of duty, you will closo

170 Catliarine of Siena.

the gates of this magnificent palace, you will turn your
back on this beautiful country, and set out for Rome, where
you will be amidst ruins, tumults, and malaria fever." ^
Gregory's soul was just sufficiently highly tuned to accept
this call and to prepare himself for martyrdom ; although
he did so with many sighs.

But the moment that it became known that a serious
impression had been made on the Pope in regard to this
question, an organized and determined opposition com-
menced. Of the twenty-seven cardinals present at Avig-
non, three were Italian, one was Spanish, and twenty -
three were French. The French cardinals abhorred the
idea of banishment from their native land, and still more
p of the correction of their immoral lives which such a step,
I they instinctively felt, would render at least expedient.
I All the associations of Avignon were dear to them, and
' Italy seemed full of vague horrors. Even the Italian
cardinals showed little loyalty towards their country,
and increased the alarm of the others by their report of
the tumultuous and revengeful character of their country-
men. A rumour was set afloat, carefully kept alive, and
often repeated in the presence of Gregory, that a secret
plot had been formed at Rome, in connection with the
revolted cities of the League, to bring the Pope to Ostia
and there to have him poisoned. Gregory's health was
feeble, and but for the good Dr. Francis (Francesco), the
Italian physician of the Court, he would have been made

1 A r4sum6 of the conversations of Catharine and Gregory was
found among the papers of Kaymond in the archives of the Domi-
nicans at Siena. Others of their conversations, and some of her
prayers, were also written down by Petra, the Pope's stenographer,
the same who took down the depositions of Friars Thomas and
Bartholomew.

St. Biidget, Queen of Sweden. 171

to believe that the climate of Rome was certain death to
every Frenchman. The personal hatred of Catharine felt
by some of the cardinals is easily understood ; for she made
herself obnoxious to them, not only by her design to put
an end to the " Babylonish captivity " of the papacy, butj
by her acute discernment of character, and her fidelity in
rebuking vice. By Gregory's desire she addressed the
assembled cardinals and prelates, several times, in the great
hall of the Consistory ; and curiosity attracted them to
hear her, where better motives were wanting. All her
companions seem to have been impressed by the almost
awful authority with which she spoke on these occasions.
Her soul was filled with a holy wrath against the abomina-
tions and vices which prevailed at Avignon, and with which
the very air seemed to be impregnated ; she had read the
bitter and fiery remonstrances which St. Bridget, the Queen
of Sweden, had addressed some ten years previously to
Gregory, on the scandalous life of the clergy and the
shameful example set by them. It appears that neither of
these Christian ladies had any heart to speak softly or to
prophesy smooth things, when they saw men given up to
the cruelty of lust, and the weak and the poor entrapped
and ruined to minister to their shameful pleasure ; for the
Queen of Sweden, as well as Catharine, used great plainness
of speech. The former wrote : " Listen, Pope Gregory XL,
to what the Lord God says to thee : He asks of thee why
thou dost rebel against him, why thou dost neglect the
poor, and give indecently of the spoils of earth to thy rich
ones ; for thy worldly Court is the ruin of the celestial
Court, the Church. All who come within the influence
of thy Court fall into the gehenna of perdition ; and in

172 Catharine of Siena.

these days, houses of ill-fame are more honoured than my
holy Church." i

Catharine was requested one day by Gregory to speak
to the Consistory on the subject of the Church. Looking
round upon that magnificent Court, and on the faces of
those men, which were far from bearing the impress of pure
and saintly lives, she asked why she found in the Pon-
tifical Court, in which all the virtues ought to flourish,
nothing but the contagion of the most disgraceful vices.
The Court remained silent, and Catharine waited for a
reply. Gregory then asked how she had come to the
knowledge of what went on in his Court, seeing she had
been so short a time in Avignon, and lived so much
apart. He then, amidst murmured approvals, attempted
to soften the stern judgment which she had expressed.
Catharine had been maintaining a humble posture before
the Pope ; but she " left that position," says Raymond,
"and assumed an air of authority which astonished
everyone." Standing erect, she raised her thin white
hand to heaven, and said : " I declare, in the name of
Almighty God, that I perceived more distinctly the
horrors of the sins which are committed in this Court,
while I was yet in my little room at Siena than even
those do who are in the midst of these vices." " The Pope
remained silent," says Raymond ; " I could not overcome
my surprise, and shall never forget the tone of authority
with which Catharine spoke to that great audience."
Even after this, Catharine, says Stephen, " frequently
delivered most eloquent discourses as well as highly

1 "Quia jam nunc magis veneratur lupaiiar quam sancta mater
Ecclesia " — Letterx of St, Brkli/et.

Proven^l Singers and Ladies. 173

practical ones in the presence of Gregory and the cardinals,
and there reigned so great an authority and so wonderful a
grace in her lips that all declared, 'Never man spake like
this woman ; ' and many said, ' It is not a woman that
speaks, but the Holy Spirit himself. ' "

But there were in the Papal Court more subtle and
dangerous antagonists than the prelates, who opposed
the scheme of the return to Italy. These antagonists
were the great ladies of the Court, the elegant leaders of
fashion. " The most brilliant and beautiful of the women
of Provence, attracted to the Court of Avignon, had
established since the reign of Clement V. a real influence
there — an influence, unfortunately, too often dangerous
or criminal." Courtiers and ecclesiastics, seeking places
and benefices, knew that their only chance of success
lay in the personal favour of Madame Miramonde de
Maul6on, or Cecile des Baux, or En^monde de Bour-
bon, niece of Innocent VI., or Briande d'Agout, whose
wit was as captivating as her beauty, or Lauretta di
Sada, or Est6phanette de Romanin, Proven9al poets and
singers as well as graceful leaders at Court. ^ To one or
other of these it was necessary to pay assiduous court in
order to succeed in that world of pleasure and ambition.
This " voluptuous academy " had been all in a flutter
since the arrival of Catharine. At first the ladies left her
unnoticed, or merely regarded her with languidly critical
or insolent glances as she passed through the sumptuous
corridors to the papal audience chamber. "She is very

^ " Ces deux dames qui romansoyent promptement en toute sorte
de rithnie provensalle, les ceuvres desquelles rendent ample t^moig-
nage de leur doctrine." — Vies des plus Celebrea Poetes Froven^atiXf
Jean de Nostkadamcs.

174 Catharine of Siena.

peculiar ; " "she has no beauty to speak of ; " " how odd is
her dialect ; " " it would be amusing to hear her conversa-
tions with the holy father." These and similar remarks
expressed the slight estimation in which she was held by
the Court ladies, who entirely failed to comprehend her
character, motives, and mission. But the cardinals and
others began to speak of Catharine as of one whose words
carried weight. The brother of the King of France, the
chivalrous Duke of Anjou, had come from Paris, at the
instigation of the French King, to dissuade Gregory from
leaving his native land, and to express the unwillingness of
the French Government and Court to allow him to transfer
the Papal Government to Eome. Gregory's reply to the
duke was, " I beseech you, cousin, to speak with Catharine
of Siena." The result of the conference of the duke with
Catharine was that he became one of her most ardent dis-
ciples, that he accepted her view of the duty of the Pontiff
to return to Italy, and that his soul became enflamed with
the desire, inspired by her, of becoming the leader of the
crusaders to the Holy Land. The good and gentle wife of
the Duke of Anjou was out of health, and suffering greatly
The moral atmosphere of Avignon did not please her,
and her husband took her to his beautiful residence at
Villeneuve, the Versailles of Avignon. The duchess
had become enamoured of Catharine's character even
before she had seen her, and she now earnestly en-
treated that she would pay her a visit at Villeneuve.
Catharine gladly accepted the invitation, and remained
many days there, enjoying the lovely country around,
wandering in the woods or by the river, and spending
many hours by the couch of her invalid friend. This

High-born Dames of Avignon. 175

honourable pair, the duke and duchess, became, in all
sincerity, the humble followers of Christ. France had been
exhausted by the long war with England, which as yet was
not concluded. The Duke of Anjou now earnestly invited
Catharine to go with him to Paris to see the King, Charles
v., in order to persuade him to put an end to the war.
Catharine respectfully but firmly declined. She did not
recognize it to be a duty to undertake such a journey, and she
had no desire to be further familiarized with the life of courts.
These facts reached the ears of the ladies of Avignon, and
created much excitement among them. This singular woman
was beginning to exercise an influence more powerful
than their own, though of a very different nature. "What
could it mean? what shall our part be?" they asked
among themselves. Obviously, they must set themselves
to oppose the mad design of abolishing Avignon ; for
to withdraw the Sovereign Pontiff was to bring to an
end the splendid world over which they reigned. This
would not be a task of great difficulty; so much power
and influence, so much skill and art would be brought
to bear upon it. With the exquisite tact and management
which belong to high-born ladies, they therefore set
themselves to combat the influence of the Popolana of
Siena, acting, however, in a manner wholly different from
that of the prelates and ecclesiastical courtiers. They
took Catharine under their protection, and patronized
her with the sweetest aristocratic grace. They made
religion the fashion ; in place of balls and tournaments
they instituted afternoon parties for pious conversation,
edifying recitals, and penitential music. The Pope's
sister, the affable and graceful Countess of Valentinois,

176 Catharine of Siena.

was the leader of this organized assault upon the stern
simplicity and moral fortitude of the Mantellata. She be-
sought Catharine to pay her a visit in her own apartments
in order that she might confer with her on those beautiful
truths of which she had spoken in the hall of the Consistory ;
and at the close of their first interview she whispered in
her ear, with that soft tone of voice which she believed the
" mystics " assumed, " Ah ! how happy should I be if I
could assist at some of your exercises of piety. At what
hours do you pray in the chapel ? " Catharine had attended
one of the liturgical festivals in the great basilica of the
rock of the Domes, which perplexed her spirit and confused
her senses, accustomed to the comparative simplicity of the
offices of her own church of St. Dominic of Siena, and to
the silence and poverty of her room at the Fullonica. The
whole Court attended these high festivals. The Pope
presided, robed in a cope of magnificent tissue of cloth of
gold, of English manufacture ; a silver mitre on his head,
from which hung pendants of crimson silk ; his feet, in
gi'een velvet slippers, resting upon a cushion also of green
velvet, veined with gold ; his hands in gloves of cloth of
silver, embroidered with gold and pearls, and with the
words Jesu and Marie worked upon the back in very
fine emeralds. He was seated upon a Byzantine throne of
white marble, under a dais of crimson velvet. His deacon
and sub-deacon stood by his side in robes of scarlet cloth
covered with gold needlework ; the cardinals were ranged
in two lines, with their white mitres and scarlet copes,
embroidered, as was also that of the Pope, with Jieurs de
lis, peacocks, and griffins, in gold and precious stones.
The floor of the church was spread with rich Flemish

Unsuccessful Manceuwes. 177

carpets representing stories from the Bible, and from the
roof hung great candelabra of gold and silver. The altar
was draped with fine linen, embroidered with gold and
emeralds. The light of the lamps was reflected from
thousands of jewels, the perfumes of the most exquisite
incense ascended from a hundred vases of massive silver,
the harmonies of the choral liturgies rose and fell, and the
whole formed an influence intoxicating to the senses and
ravishing to the souls of those who believed such sacrifice to
be really acceptable to God. Catharine preferred the more
modest worship of the chapel attached to the residence
allotted to her ; and thither the Court ladies followed her
for a short time, having gracefully bribed Stephen to inform
them privately of the hours when Catharine might be foimd
there absorbed in prayer. The gentle rustling of their silk
robes did not disturb her collected spirit ; but it Avas hoped
that on rising to leave the chapel, she might be touched
by the sight of the kneeling forms in remote comers of
the sanctuary, bowed in beautiful penitence before the
sculptured saints. Honest Father Eaymond confesses him-
self that he was deceived by these delicate arts ; he was
" moved by such unexpected signs of grace ;" he even ex-
pressed admiration of the beautiful costumes, the elegant
sweeping trains, and graceful curtsies of the grandes dames ;
he also thought it well to expostulate with Catharine on her
want of gratitude. "In truth, it is not good in you, dear
mother, to be indiff'erent to such courtesy ; all the great
ladies make profound reverences to you when they meet
you, and you turn away your head; when they approach
you with amiable words about religion you reply roughly,
'we must first get out of the pit of hell and out of the

N

178 Catharine of Siena.

grasp of the devil, and then we will speak of God ;' and
straightway you fly from their presence. I find it difficult
to forgive you, above all, for the manner in which you
received that beautiful lady the other day, who wished to
entertain you at her house; you scarcely even looked at her.
Is it well to treat your fellow-creatures thus?" Kaymond,
disposed, in his kindliness of heart, to think well of all,
understood more imperfectly than Catharine the private
character of many of those of whom he spoke. Her answer
was almost rude : "Father, if you could know, as I do, the
vileness which proceeds out of the beautiful mouths of these
proud mistresses of the cardinals, you would vomit forth
the remembrance of it."^ The eyes of the indulgent con-
fessor were rudely opened, however, by several proofs of
petty malice on the part of the disappointed intriguers.
Elys de Beaufort-Turenne, the vain and pretty niece of the
Pope, seeing her uncle in profound meditation after an inter-
view with Catharine, and suspecting that his thoughts were
bent upon the return to Italy, conceived a desire to settle
the question in a fashion of her own. She followed Catha-
rine to the church, and, feigning a deep devotion, she
prostrated herself by her side, and pierced her foot with
a small stiletto; either she had not the courage to strike
a more vital part, or her intention was limited to the in-
fliction of pain. Catharine limped from the church in
great agony, leaving the traces of the bleeding foot on
the pavement, and continued lame for some time, although

1 " Quaidam mulier quae erat cujusdam magni prailati ecclesiae
concubina quum loqueretur cum ea . . . Si sensissetis foetorem
quein ego ex ilia sentiebam dum loqueretur mihi, evomuissetis
quidquid habuissetis in ventre." — S. Antoninus, Chronicon.

She addresses the Consistory of Cardinals. 179

at the moment that the wound was inflicted she took no
notice of it, but remained immovable in prayer.

Catharine continued, at the request of Gregory, to hold
conferences in the hall of the Consistory. The study of the
Scriptures had passed out of use at Avignon ; but Catha-
rine's discourses were invariably founded upon some portion
of the holy Word. "Her insight and clearness of inter-
pretation astonished the learned doctors," and in her ardent
love of the truths of which she spoke, she would become
almost unconscious of the presence of persons of authority
in the Church, and her countenance would glow with joyful
emotion, so that they looked upon her face "as it had been
the face of an angel," Three prelates of very high rank,
who had been absent from Avignon when Catharine arrived,
came to Gregory and asked, " Holy Father, is this Catha-
rine of Siena really as saintly as is pretended 1 " Gregory
replied, "Truly I believe she is a saint." "If it please your
Holiness, we will go and pay her a visit," they added
" I think," answered the Pope, " you will be extremely
edified." The following account of the interview is given
by Stephen, in his letter written by request to be pro-
duced at the canonization of Catharine, and afterwards
placed, with the other testimonies, in the Amplissima
Collectio of Dom Martene. "Now coming to our house
towards nine o'clock, the prelates knocked at ou r door.
It was in summer. I ran to open to them. * Give Catha-
rine notice,' they said, ' that we wish to speak to her.'
Immediately the Blessed came down, with Friar John
(of Cambridge) and several other friends. The prelates
bade her be seated. She sat down beside them on the
terrace. Then they began speaking to her in a haughty

n2

180 Catharine of Siena.

tone and with biting words, endeavouring to irritate or
wound her. ' We come from our lord the Pope,' they said,
* and we wish to know whether the Florentines did actually
send you to him as is pretended. If they did send you, it
proves that they have not a man among them of sufficient
ability to treat of such important business with so great a
potentate. If they did not send you, we are amazed that an
insignificant little woman such as you should presume to
converse with his Holiness on so high an affair.' i Catharine,
always calm, answered them humbly, but in a manner which
clearly excited their surprise. After she had fully satisfied
them on this point they proposed to her some very difficult
and subtle questions, especially on the subject of her own
intimate converse with heaven, asking her to explain the
meaning of the apostle's words when he declares that Satan
transforms himself into an angel of light, and desiring to
know how she could prove that her own revelations were
not delusions of the demon. The conference lasted till
late in the night, and I was witness of it. Catharine spoke
with marvellous prudence and wisdom. Friar John Tan-
tucci, who was a doctor of theology of Cambridge, often
desired to reply for Catharine ; but, in spite of his learn •
ing, the prelates were so skilful that they contrived to
beat him in argument, and at last said to him, ' You
should be ashamed to argue so in our presence ; let her
reply ; she satisfies us better than you do.' One of the
prelates was an archbishop of the Minor Friars, a hard

1 " Si vero non te miserunt, valde mirainur, cum tu sis vilis fe
mella, quia praesumis de tanta materia loqui cum domino nostro
Papa."— DoM Marten jc.

Disputes with Doctors of the Church. 181

man, who disputed with a pharisaical pride ; he would not
accept in good faith what Catharine said, and wrested her
words. The two others finally turned upon him, and said :
* Why question her any longer ? She has answered all
these things more clearly than any doctor among us could
have done.' Then the dispute came to be between these two
and the archbishop. At last they withdrew, and reported
to the Pope that they had never found so humble and en-
lightened a soul. But Gregory, when he learned the next
morning how the prelates had treated Catharine, was ex-
tremely pained and mortified, and sent an apology to her,
assuring her that the prelates had acted entirely on their
own initiative, and that he had not given them any kind of
commission to do what they had done, and recommending
her to refuse to see them if they should come again. In
the evening. Master Francis, the Pope's physician, said to
me, ' Do you know who those prelates are ? ' ' No,' I
replied. ' Well,' said he, ' know, that if the learning of
these three were put in one scale of the balance, and that
of the whole Koman Church in the other, the acquirements
of these three would outweigh the others ; and if they had
not found Catharine so solid in knowledge and wisdom it
would have been the worse for her.'"

Catharine was yet to be further tried by the irresolu-
tion of Gregory. The Cardinals revolted openly against
the scheme of the return to Italy. They cited as a pre-
cedent the conduct of Clement IV., who never undertook
any important matter without taking the votes of the
whole college of cardinals, and declared that Gregory
was not justified in acting independently. They threat-
ened vaguely a schism in the Church and a revolution at

182 Catharine of Siena.

Court. Catharine daily contested all their arguments with
Gregory. " They tell you of the example of Clement IV.,"
she said ; "but they say nothing of Urban V., who, when
he became convinced that a certain course of action was
right, never consulted anyone." Tried to the utmost by
the weakness and vacillation of the Pontiff, whom, how-
ever, on account of his gentleness, she sincerely loved, as a
mother loves a faltering and tempted son, she withdrew for
a season from his presence, and was no longer seen in the
Vatican of the rock of the Domes. She entered into the
secret presence of her Saviour, and her soul passed once
more through that baptism of strong desire, of tears, and
of passionate intercession, by the strength of which she
ever achieved her wonderful conquests in the kingdom of
grace, and over the souls of men with whom persuasion
and argument had failed. In those solitary hours her gaze
was fixed far beyond the present, and her heart embraced
all the sorrows of earth, while, like the prophets of old, she
prayed that the great deliverance might be hastened, and
cried to him who is the Desire of all nations, "Even so.
Lord Jesus, come quickly ! "

Tormented with conflicting emotions, Gregory, who had
noticed with pain her absence from the Court, again sent
for her. She went to him at once. In a perturbed
manner he asked of her " her opinion concerning his
return to Rome," as though that opinion had never been
expressed. Catharine maintained silence for a time,
allowing Gregory to become more and more urgent
in demanding her verdict on the subject. At last she
humbly excused herself, saying that it did not become
a poor ignorant woman like her to give advice to the

site reminds Gregory of his Secret Vow. 183

Sovereign Pontiflf, who had around him so many able coun-
sellors. Gregory moved uneasily in his chair, perplexed
as to her meaning, and beginning to tremble lest his best
adviser, his guardian angel, — disgusted with his pusillani-
mity,— should have forsaken him. He said, after a con-
siderable pause, " Catharine, I do not ask you to give me
advice ; I ask you to declare to me the ivill of God." Still
she continued her reserve : she had already declared to
him the will of God, and he had still hesitated to obey.
She understood when to speak, and when to keep silence :
she knew that to multiply words, even in the holiest cause,
is often to weaken the spiritual force which impels the soul
of man in the direction of that cause. At last Gregory
said : " I command you, in the name of obedience, to tell
me what is the will of God in this matter." She bowed her
head, and replied : " Who knows more perfectly the will
of God than your holiness, who has pledged himself by a
secret vow "i " At these words Gregory started, and re-
mained silent with astonishment ; for he believed that no
one but himself knew that he had taken a vow when under
the influence of the letters of the Queen of Sweden, to return
to Rome. From that moment his mind was made up. He
now took Catharine fully into his confidence, and, with a
softened heart, entreated her advice on all the details of
the great undertaking. She counselled him to resort to a
" pious stratagem ; " to cease to speak of the great question
in the presence of the cardinals and Court, but to entrust
the needful preparations confidentially to the Duke of
Anjou, and other discreet and trusty servants. She ad-
vised that, having acted so as to allow the opposition to
subside, and having made all ready, he should suddenly

184 Catharijie of Siena.

announce, in the most public and decided manner, his
determination to start for Italy, and that he should take
care that the briefest possible time should intervene be-
tween this announcement and his departure. Gregory
accepted the advice and acted upon it-
Catharine had now accomplished her social mission, and
with a deep sense of relief she prepared to return to her be-
loved home in Siena. But Gregory, who had now learned
to doubt the force of his own resolutions, prayed her not to
depart a single day before he himself set out for Italy. She
therefore consented to remain. The interval was employed
by her chiefly in correspondence concerning the crusade.
She wrote several letters to Bernabos Visconti, hoping to
turn the ill-applied energies of that fierce warrior in a direc-
tion in which they would at least cease to be a curse and a
terror to his countrymen. She wrote again to the true-
hearted Queen of Hungary, whose country was contimially
invaded by hordes of Turks. She also wrote to the King
of France, pleading hard for peace with England, and repre-
senting to him the sufferings caused by war, to the aged,
to women, and to children. She had some correspondence
also of a more private nature. The mother of her friend
and secretary, Stephen Maconi, had written to reproach
him with the length of his absence from home. Catharine
wrote in reply: "Take courage, dear lad}'^ ; be patient,
and do not distress yourself because I have kept him too
long ; I have watched over him well ; for affection has
made of us two but one, and all your interests are mine.
I wish to do for him and for you all that I can, even to
death. You, his mother, have borne him once ; and I —
I travail again in birth, every day, not for him onl}-, but

Letter to her Mother. 185

for you and all your family, offering to God without ceas-
ing, and with tears and anguish, my strong desire for your
salvation."

Lapa also complained of her beloved daughter's pro-
longed absence, and Catharine replied to her in a long letter,
which appears to have been sent from Genoa on the return
home from Avignon; in common with many others, it bears
no date, and only an approximate date can be assigned
to it : " If I have remained long, my beloved mother, it has
been by the will of God, and not by my own, or by the will
of man ; if anyone tells you to the contrary, he is mistaken ;
for I tell you the truth. I must follow the path which God
indicates to me by his providence ; and you, my dear, sweet
mother — you ought to be content, and not unwilling to
suffer something for the honour of God .... Remember
how you used to act when it was a question of our temporal
interests, when your sons often took long journeys and were
absent for a length of time on business, and in order to
make money ; and now, when it is a question of the things
which concern our eternal life, you pine so much, and tell
me you will die if I do not soon come home ; this is
because you love the mortal part of me more than the
immortal part."

The hour of the departure was at hand. All was ready.
The Pope's announcement of his determination had been
made ; he had continued firm, in spite of the cry of dis-
may and grief which arose from the splendid circles which
adorned that " earthly paradise," as the courtiers were
pleased to call Avignon. The severest trial which Gregory
experienced was the opposition of his father, an aged man,
who, when he heard of the determination formed by his son,

186 Catharine of Siena.

waited for him at the door of his bedroom, and when he
appeared, threw himself at his feet and dung to his knees,
uttering a shriek which echoed through the whole palace.
" Can it be," he cried, " that I shall never see again my own
flesh and blood H How couldst thou deceive, not only thy
country but thy own father. Thou art going to encounter
unheard-of dangers ! Thou shall not leave this palace, except
over the body of thy father, slain with grief." But Gregory
rose for a moment to the height of heroism : he gently
raised his father and replied, solemnly, " God hath spoken :
he will enable me to overcome all dangers and trials."

Catharine had negotiated, at the suggestion of Gregory,
for the preparation of three galleys at Marseilles, with-
out communicating the fact to anyone. On the 13th
of September, 1376, the gates of the papal palace at
Avignon were opened long before sunrise, and an un-
wonted excitement was seen to prevail ; for on that
day Gregory was to set out to restore the glory of the
papacy to Kome. The people of Avignon stood in
crowds around, mute and displeased. The Pope's favourite
horse on which he rode forth, reared at the gate of the
palace, and backed, to the risk of the rider's life. Three
times it repeated this capricious performance ; and finally
the pontifical grooms forced it back, with many curses,
to its stall, and brought out another horse for his Holi-
ness to ride. This was regarded as an extremely evil
omen, but Gregory maintained his presence of mind and
resolution. The details of this remarkable journey, this
" Odyssey of the fourteenth century," have been preserved
to us in the rhythmical account written by Peter Amely, a
romantic Proven9al singer, who held the post of chaplain

The Departure from Avignon. 187

to the Pope, and accompanied him on his journey. This
account is quoted by De Malan in his " Life of St. Catha-
rine." The poem is affected and prolix ; but a translation
of portions of it will enable us to realize, better than the
description given by any other chronicler, the temper of
mind in which the exiles quitted France.

"On Tuesday, the 13th of September, Gregory XI. left
the palace, with the cardinals, mounted on white horses
sumptuously caparisoned. Chariots followed, loaded with
treasure ; then came the chaplains and domestic servants of
the Pope, and the carriages of the cardinals and of the suite.
Armed knights, with equerries, soldiers, and valets, headed
and followed up the rear of the cortSge which traversed the
soiTowing city. We reached Orgon, an arid and stony dis-
trict, where vegetation is scanty. We spent the first night
in this uncomfortable abode. ... On Wednesday we
arrived, shortly before sunset, at the royal city of Aix.
There everji-thing pleased the eye : the beauty of the coun-
try around, the splendour of the palaces, and the hilarity of
the citizens, who came out in crowds to meet the Prince of
the Apostles. The aged bishop of Aix, accompanied by his
numerous clergy, came in procession to receive the Sove-
reign Pontiff, whom they conducted through the streets,
which were carpeted with bright-coloured silk fabrics, and
thickly strewed with flowers. On Friday, after crossing a
chain of rugged hills, we halted a few hours at Trets, where
a sumptuous repast was prepared for us. We continued
our course, and spent the night at Saint-Maximin. ... On
Saturday we arrived, by a rough and rocky road, at Auriol,
a little town picturesquely situated in a fertile country of
corn and vines. Towards evening, as we pursued our wayj

188 Catharine of Siena.

an immense and rejoicing crowd which met us, carrying
torches and banners, and accompanied by music and sing-
ing, announced that we were approaching Marseilles. Alas !
we began already to be tormented by the cruel heat of the
south, which was made more suffocating by the pressure of
the multitudes of people. . . . The next morning the
north wind, however, was blowing freshly, and the gentle
Pontiff came forth from the matin service in the abbey of
St. Victor, and entered the magnificent galley which was
waiting for him. Ah ! how was my heart torn at the
thought of bidding adieu to my native land ! Sighs and
lamentations resounded on every side ; all were sobbing ;
the Pontiff himself wept. The wind was favourable then ;
but what happened afterwards I must record."

This account of the voyage, narrated by the sentimental
poet of Provence, enables us to realize the slowness and
difficulty of travelling in those times, compared with the
rapid transit possible in our own days, from country to
country, and even from one hemisphere to another. The
summer had been fine, but the autumn was peculiarly
unfavourable for the expedition, and the faint hearts of
the unwilling exiles almost failed before the voyage was
half completed. A succession of storms, accompanied
with thunder and lightning, and lowering skies, tried their
spirits to the utmost, and delayed their passage. It seems
hardly credible that this journey from Marseilles to Rome
should have extended over three months, owing to the
severe storms, frequent pauses, and prolonged delays
while waiting for the vexed sea to become calm. " We
set sail," continues Peter Am6ly, "amidst the lamenta-
tions of the Marseillais. At Saint-Nazaire we stopped and

Stormy Voyage to Villafranca. 189

landed to dine, and embarked again. Towards evening the
sky darkened, the wind howled, and a horiible tempest
arose, which forced us to land again upon a desolate part of
the coast, where there was not a single habitation. A pelt-
ing rain, thunder and lightning, and furious winds made us
believe that death was at hand for us. We all huddled
together, trembling and in consternation. But in a few
hours the storm passed over, and a strong wind carried us
rapidly into the harbour of Toulon. We encountered a
second tempest, worse than the first, off the coast of Frejus.
Even the mariners turned pale, and the passengers moaned,
calling upon St. Cyriac. We ran rapidly, however, with
the wind, past the Isle of St. Marguerite, and in the even-
ing arrived in safety at Antibes, where we joyfully landed.
On Thursday, October the 9th, the storm continued. We
passed by Nice, and entered the sunny port of Villafranca
with indescribable joy. We had suffered the utmost horrors
of sea-sickness, and now fell like famished men upon the
excellent viands prepared for us, and afterwards slept
peacefully. On Friday we again set sail, although the
sea was tempestuous. We had reached the point of
Monaco, when the pilot declared that it would be dan-
gerous to proceed, and we were compelled to put back
to Villafranca. Before we regained that port the stern
of the galley was broken, and the sails torn to pieces. The
pontifical valets discharged all of the most valuable articles
into the small boats. All was in confusion : one could
hear nothing but the roaring of the waves, heartrending
cries, and angry vociferations. Who can describe what
we endured 1 But the next day the sea was more calm.
' 0 lily of pontiffs ! ' we said, ' behold how the sun shines

190 Catharine of Siena.

forth ! All nature seems again to smile, and thy servants
salute thee in the delicious city of Savona.' "

Catherine had parted from Gregory at Avignon, to pursue
a route of her own, with her companions, to Toulon. Her
journey was much more expeditious than that of the Pontiff:
it was unimpeded by regrets, murmurings, or hesitations.
She set out with a cheerful heart, and full of hope. Gregory
had given her a hundred florins for the expense of the
journey, to which the Duke of Anjou had added a hundred
francs, — not a mean present in those days, even from a
duke. She remained for two days at Toulon. She and
her companions arrived there towards evening, when she
immediately retired to her room to pray, as was her un-
varying custom at the evening hour. " We had been
careful," says Raymond, " to say nothing of her arrival in
the town ; but the very stones seemed to proclaim it,"
They had not been there an hour, when a numerous multi-
tude of women gathered round the door of the inn, asking
where the saint was who had come from the pontifical court.
The hostler having confessed that she was there, it became
impossible to keep back the crowd ; for now men also came
in great numbers, pressing round the circle of women, and
desiring to see Catharine, if but for one moment. For from
the secret heart of the poor, hungry multitudes arises again
and again the protest that it is not by bread alone that man
lives. The mass of men will strangely and strongly at
times incline towards one whom they believe has dwelt in
a peculiar manner in the presence of God, and who can
impart some knowledge of that hidden well of living
water for which humanity thirsts, even when apparently
satisfied with the turgid fountains of the world's pleasures

Her Halt at Toulon. 191

and interests. The foremost among the women pressed
into the vestibule of the inn ; but Catharine remained con-
cealed in her chamber. One of the women, who was very
retiring and careworn in appearance, carried in her arms
her sick baby, a pitiful object, but her treasure. She be-
sought the friends of Catharine that she would take the
infant in her arms and cure it ; " for," she said, " she has
power with God, and can heal diseases : she can restore to
me my baby which is dying." The message was taken to
Catharine, but she declined to undertake this, or to appear;
for she dreaded the publicity of the occasion. But the
entreaties and sobs of the poor mother, whose petitions
were seconded by the other women, were too much for her
compassionate heart : she came out of her chamber, and
said, " Where is the little one 1 " The mother pressed for-
ward, and Catharine, full of pity, took the baby in her
arms, and, pressing it to her breast, she prayed earnestly
and with tears to him who said, " Suffer the little children
to come unto me." From that moment the child revived,
and the whole city was witness of its rapid return to
health, and of the joy of the poor mother. The Bishop of
Toulon, hearing of this event, sent for Raymond, and
earnestly requested him to obtain for him an interview
with Catharine.

Catharine arrived at Genoa, and there waited several
days for Gregory. The papal galleys must needs stop at
Genoa for water and repairs ; and she knew instinctively
that the Pope would require to imbibe, when there, a fresh
stock of courage and resolution. As the days passed on,
and the vessels from Mai-seilles did not appear, fears began
to visit her tried soul. She knew Gregory's weakness, and

192 Catharine of Siena.

the sullen, unwilling spirit of many of the companions of
his exile from France. The elements, too, had seemed to
oppose themselves to the return to Rome ; and she pictured
to herself in imagination all that Gregory might have had
to suffer, from the voyage and from the complainings of
those around him, and dreaded lest the trial might be
greater than his faltering courage could endure. In the
collection made of Catharine's prayers, is one entitled, " A
Prayer offered up at Genoa, when waiting for the Arrival
of Gregory XL," in which she beseeches that God will
pardon all the weaknesses of the Pontiff; that he will
deliver him from the timid counsels of those who would
hold him back from the performance of duty, and inspire
him with a true love for souls, and readiness to suffer all
things for the welfare of the Church. It was thus that she
waited, praying without ceasing for the consummation of
that for which she had laboured, and which she believed to
be in accordance with the will of God.

CHAPTER VII.

Catharine and her friends remained more than a month at
Genoa, at the house of an honourable lady named Orietta
Scott. Stephen says, in his deposition : " We were nearly
all sick while there. Neri di Landoccio fell ill the first.
He suffered dreadful pain ; he could neither lie in bed nor
stand up, but would crawl about on his hands and knees all
night when other people rested, and thus increased his pains.
When Catharine heard of it she was filled with compassion,
and ordered Father Raymond to call in the best medical
aid. He promptly brought two skilful physicians, who pre-
scribed for Neri, but he became no better." Raymond says :
" We were all at dinner when the news came to us that
Neri was rather worse than better. Stephen ceased to eat ;
he looked very sad, and, leaving the table, went straight
to Catharine's room. He threw himself at her feet, and
with tears adjured her not to suffer his dear friend, who
had undertaken this journey for God and for her, to die far
from his family, and be buried in a strange city. Catha-
rine was deeply affected ; she said : ' If God wills, Stephen,
that your friend should thus early reap the reward of his
labours, you ought not to be afflicted, but rather to rejoice.'
But Stephen insisted : ' 0 dearest, kindest mother, hear
my request. You can do it if you will ; you can obtain this

o

194 Catharine of Siena.

favour from God,' Catharine replied, with a look full of
pity, ' I only exhorted you to conform to God's will. To-
morrow, when I go to receive the Communion, remind me
of your request, and I will pray to the Lord for Neri ; and
meanwhile do you pray without ceasing for his recovery.'
Stephen did not fail to throw himself in her path as she
went to the church, and said : ' Mother, I entreat you not
to deceive my expectations.' Catharine remained an un-
usually long time in the church, in prayer. When she re-
turned, she smiled on Stephen, who was waiting for her,
and said, ' Be of good cheer, my son ; you have obtained the
favour you have sought.' Stephen, not quite able to believe
for joy, eagerly asked, ' Will Neri get well 1 ' ' Undoubtedly
he will,' Catharine replied. Stephen hastened to the bed-
side of his friend. He found the physicians there, who
said, ' Although we had given up all hope, his symptoms
have changed within the last hour, and we can now entertain
hope of his recovery.' " In a few days Neri was quite
well. But Stephen, worn out by his fatigues in nursing the
patients, and by his anxiety about his beloved friend, was
attacked by a violent fever. " As everyone loved him,"
says Raymond, " we resorted to him to try and console
him, and all nursed him by turns." Stephen himself gave
the following account of it : " Catharine came, with her
companions, to pay me a visit, and asked me what I
was suffering. I, quite delighted at her sweet presence,
answered gaily, ' They say I am ill ; but I do not know
what it is.' She placed her hand on my forehead; and
shaking her head and smiling, she said, ' Do you hear
how this child answers me ? — They say that I am ill,
but I do not know of what ; — and he is in a violent fever ! '

Delay and Suspense. 195

then she added, addressing me : ' But, Stephen, I do not
allow you to be ill ; you must get up and wait upon the
others as before.' She then conversed with us about God,
as usual, and as she was speaking I began to feel quite well.
I interrupted her to tell them so, and they were all in
astonishment, and very glad. I arose from my bed the same
day, and I have enjoyed perfect health since that time."

We left speaking of the papal expedition at the moment
of its arrival at Savona. After many delays the galleys
bearing the exiles from Avignon entered the port of Genoa
on the 13th of October. Catharine welcomed Gregory
joyfully, but quickly perceived by his countenance that the
conflict had been renewed between his better nature and
his fears, the latter seconded by the influence of the
cardinals. During the delay of ten days in Genoa, to
which he was compelled by the continuance of foul weather
and the violence of recurring storms, his courage was much
tried, for alarming reports continued to arrive every day
from Florence and the other revolted cities. Gregory had
believed that the news of his return would have stirred up
a strong reaction in his favoiu* ; but the aggravated conduct
of the cardinal-legates, Avho feared that their power would
come to an end with the Pontiffs return, had further
estranged the suffering people of Tuscany, and the signs
of disloyalty and rebellion were thus increased rather
than diminished. The astute courtiers who accompanied
Gregory took advantage of these reports to unsettle the
mind of the Pontiff ; and but for the extraordinary deter-
mination and ardour of Catharine, there can be little doubt
that they would have succeeded in inducing him to turn
back. They dreaded her influence, and therefore, as soon

02

196 Catharine of Siena.

as possible after landing, they prevailed upon the Pope to
call a consistory, and in that consistory, Gregory had
actually confirmed the decision almost unanimously voted
by the cardinals, to return to Avignon.^ The courtiers,
believing their triumph secure, began to boast of it openly,
as of a victory as beautiful as unexpected, when "the
resolute Mantellata interposed and audaciously confronted
in her own person alone, this torrent which threatened to
swallow up the great design for which she had toiled."
Gregory, surrounded by selfish and adverse counsellors,
vexed by reports of rebellion, sullenly received by the
Italian people, and deprived of all reliable human aid,
again sought to fortify himself by the counsels of Catha-
rine. Catharine never came into his presence unasked,
nor did she volunteer advice ; but she knew what had
passed, and remained in her own chamber, where, as ever,
praying to her Father in secret, she was again rewarded
openly by that Father who seeth in secret. Knowing
the jealousy of her influence felt by the cardinals
and courtiers, and that a violent opposition would j^ro-
bably now arise to any proposed conference with her,
Gregory paid a visit to her house in the night.^ When
all the city slept, he knocked at her door, and entered,
unaccompanied, and wrapped in his cloak, to ask of her
this time not only wise counsels, but power, through
her prayers, to obey those counsels. The Lady Orietta
Scott, a faithful friend and disciple of Catharine, was
present at this interview, as were Father Raymond and

2 Capecelatro, Storia di S. Catarina da Siena, Lib. v., p. 213.
Tomniaso Caffarini, Supplemento ad Legend.

Gregory leaves Genoa for Rome. 197

others. Catharine was true to her mission. She insisted
that at all costs, the Papacy must be re-established in Rome,
and adjured Gregory to believe that the greater the perils and
difficulties which he might even now have to encounter, the
more ought he to feel himself called upon to be strong and to
accept these things from the hand of God, as a discipline in-
tended to elevate his own soul, and purge away all taint of
weakness and egotism induced by the long residence amidst
the luxury of the Western Babylon. When the Pontiff
took leave of her she remained sleepless, on her knees,
pleading with Heaven until the morning.

Undaunted by the angry sea and howling winds, and
apparently now calmly indifferent to the displeasure and
murmurings of the courtiers, Gregory embarked at Genoa
on the 29th of October, and set sail for Rome.

The poet, Pierre Am6ly, continues : " We set sail again
on our perilous voyage. After a short pause at Porto-
Venere, where we had a most miserable dinner, we arrived
the same evening at Leghorn, where the people received
us amicably. Here we passed the night. 0 lion of the
tribe of Judah 1 0 pearl of pontiffs ! be of good courage,
and appear before this ferocious and indomitable Tuscan
people. Show them the power of the keys ! Rebuke
their audacity, and confound their pride. . . .

"Behold us at Porto-Pisano on the 6th of November.
Is there no fear that we may fall victims to these most
cruel Italians, who breathe only hate and fury ? The
ambassadors of Pisa and Lucca come down to the shore
with magnificent presents ; but take care, 0 gentle Pontiff !
suffer not thyself to be seduced by their flattering
words. If they had not abjured their ancient faith.

198 Catharine of Siena.

would they not have come to thy aid against the rebellious
Florentines 1 . . .

"Now we set sail from Piombino on the 16th of
November, before the sun has risen. The evening falls
upon us, calm and fair, as we reach the port of Hercules,
where, after an excellent dinner, we retire to pleasant
sleep. . . . But an unfriendly and violent wind blows on
the morrow. , . . We are driven upon the isle of Elba.
The prince of pastors seeks some rural oratory in which to
offer up his prayers to Heaven; and here, behold, we find our-
selves in a thick forest of olives. The storm prevents us
fixing our tents. The Archbishop of Narbonne, the chief
chamberlain of the Pontiff, and the Bishop of Charpentras,
our great referee in difficulty, are desolated because they can
find no shelter for the successor of St. Peter. 0 cruel sea,
thou sparest none ! the holiest and the most powerful thou
engulfest in the same wave with the most miserable
Already, before we reached Genoa, hadst thou absorbed our
most valuable property, and drowned our companion the
Bishop of Luni ; ^ and now the Cardinal Lagery suffers most
cruelly through thy furious agitations, and is obliged to be
carried on shore on the shoulders of a country clown ! Gradu-
ally the tempest becomes so horrible that several of our
galleys are capsized, and much of our wealth is engulfed. . . .
On the 21st of November the Cardinal of Jugie, worn
out by exposure and sickness, renders his soul to God.
May the august Trinity reward him with the joys of
Paradise for the favours he lavished upon his humble

' ' A cagion del mare grosso, si affbg6, il vescovo di Luni, e si
ruppero moltilegni." — Mc&atori, Anuali (T Italia, VoL xiL, p. 593.

The Voyage to Rome. 199

little servant, the poet Peter Am6ly, whom he admitted
every day to dine at his table !

" At last the weather permits us to start for Porto-Ferraio,
and we steer our course back to Piombino, where the
people burst into acclamations of joy on seeing the gentle
Pontiff safe and sound ; but their congratulations are
sterile, for they bring us no presents. The next day we
arrive at Orbitello, where the furious sea pitilessly rends
the coast. The landing is perilous and difficult. The
apostolic sub-deacon, who carries the crucifix before the
pearl of pontiffs, is obliged to swim to shore. And what a
bleak shore ! There my poor companions, nurtured until
now in every delicacy, are obliged, alas ! to dine on pork,
or on fricassee of those obscene frogs which deafen our ears
with their croaking. We are deprived of wheaten bread,
of good wine, and of cream ; moreover we are devoured by
malaria. We are forced to leave our sick at Orbitello, and
hurry out of this accursed land ; otherwise we should all be
dead. The Pontiff humbly walks down to his galley,
leaning on his stick ; for he also suffers. He is preceded
by torch- bearers, to lighten the darkened atmosphere. We
toil on through the stormy waves, and at last the high
towers of the city of Corneto appear in sight. ... Its
streets are wide and handsome. In spite of its former
disloyalty, which the jewel of pontiffs freely forgives, its
inhabitants receive us with extraordinary enthusiasm. . . .
"On Tuesday, the 13th of January, 1377, we left
Corneto, after a sojourn of five weeks. In the evening,
the lily of the Papacy entered his galley, and passed the
night there, after making tender enquiries concerning the
health of each one of us. The physicians and astrologers

200 Catharine of Siena.

of Avignon, who prophesied a fatal termination to our
voyage, had apparently misread the constellations ; for we
sailed all night upon a tranquil sea, by the light of a
brilliant moon, and wafted by a gentle breeze from the
north. The morning of the following day we reached the
mouth of the Tiber, and entered Ostia, a city with splendid
ramparts, but sad and deserted. In the evening several
venerable men, deputed by the Romans, arrived to offer
assurances of their fidelity. The joy of these Envoys, on
seeing the Pontiff", was such that the words died upon their
lips. The people of Ostia, lighting torches, danced and
clapped their hands in the streets, in a frenzy of delight.
The following Friday the Pontiff" rose in the night to
celebrate Mass, and after long continuance in prayer, he
took a few moments of sleep, and then arose and himself
sounded the trumpet to awake us all. We were then rowed
up the Tiber by powerful oarsmen. We sang praises to God
as we went ; but the Pontiff", who had shown signs of failing
health, was suff"ering great pain during this transit, and
our hearts were saddened by the sight of his pallid counten-
ance." The fantastical Provencal poet concludes his account
with the arrival of the Pope at St. Peter's. The return of
Gregory to Rome has been described by several of the
annalists of the Church ; it forms also the subject of a fresco
in one of the stanze of the Vatican, painted by Vasari, and
sometimes attributed to Raphael.

The entrance into Rome was joyful and magnificent.
According to the custom of the times, some hundreds of
comedians (istrioni) attired in white, preceded the cortege.
There were companies of dancers also, who performed
graceful evolutions and solemn dances, to the sound of

Gregory's Entrance into Rome. ■ 201

stately music. The whole population came forth to meet
the Pontiff ; the senators and councillors of Rome advanc-
ing at the head of the expectant crowd. The people,
dressed in holy day attire, as if for a high festival, rent the
air with cries of "Viva il Pontefice ! Viva Gregorio !" Joy
and sympathy were written on every face. The excitement
increased as the procession advanced towards St. Peter's.
The people knew not how sufficiently to express their glad-
ness and the glow of their affection towards the Pontiff as
he passed. They stretched forth their arms towards him ;
they kneeled and kissed the earth which he had trodden ;
men and women wept for joy, and little children wept
also through sympathy, though ignorant of the cause for
which they wept. The roofs of the houses were covered
with spectators, and every window was filled with eager
and joyous faces. The streets were laid with crimson
carpets and silken stuffs contributed by the richer citizens.
Winter flowers were profusely scattered on the Pontiff's
path, and rained down upon him from the windows and
housetops. The air was filled with the sounds of triumphal
music, of songs and anthems of praise ; and the ringing
of the bells from all the churches and campaniles mingled
with the joyful acclamations of the people.

But in this triumphal procession into the imperial city
on this glad day, there was one figure wanting — that of
her who had inspired the undertaking now consummated.
Catharine had never failed to be by Gregory's side in times
of trouble or wavering purpose; but at this moment of
triumph and congratulation she was absent. Alone, in her
humble little room at Siena, she was silently gathering
her forces for the future. She knew that a difficult task

202 Catharine of Siena.

awaited Gregory, after the first joyous moments of his
reception in Rome. Public triumphs are brief ; but evils
which have struck deep roots in a nation can only be
eradicated by long and patient effort.

This outburst of popular rejoicing was the expression of
a long-cherished hope. The Roman people had suffered
much during the desertion, for seventy years, of their su-
preme bishops. They had cherished the memory of their
past greatness, in the midst of their misfortunes ; and they
now dreamed of a return to their ancient glory. The popula-
tion had enormously diminished ; languor and depression
had entered into all the business and social life of the people.
There was little nobility of character or example among
them, and much corruption of morals. Many of the ancient
monuments were destroyed. The basilicas and churches
were in ruins, and the services of religion were neglected.

Petrarch, in one of his letters to the Popes of Avignon,
thus personifies Rome abandoned by the Pontiffs : " I saw
waiting at the gate of thy palace, O Pontiff of Avignon, a
venerable matron whom I seemed to recognize ; and yet I
did not dare to pronounce her name. Her countenance
was sorrowful ; her garments were poor and neglected; yet
there shone in her an ineffable majesty ; most noble were
her features and bearing, and her speech was that of one
long accustomed to rule imperially. The greatness of her
soul beamed through the thick veil of sadness which en-
veloped her. I asked at last her name, and she murmured
it forth. It reached me through the void, in the midst of
sobs ; it was Roma !"i

^ Petrarch's "Epistles," Ad Bened. PoiUif.

Catharine urges the Reform of the Church. 203

Gregory looked upon the desolated city with fear and
anxiety, for he saw how great were the hopes which had
been awakened by his return, and how difficult the task
before him. His was not the spirit to grapple with so
serious an enterprise ; moreover, the mortal disease which
caused his death fourteen months later, already had its
hand upon him ; and physical suffering and languor were
added to his natural indolence of disposition. Catharine
now urged him, with all her might, to set about the
reforms which she saw to be the only salvation for the
Church. She warned him especially concerning the elec-
tion of new cardinals and the promotion of ecclesiastics
of different ranks. " I write to you, father, in the name
and in the power of Christ crucified. In his name I
adjure you to see that the ministers you appoint be
men of virtue and faith ; that they preach repentance in
that name, and that they be men who have first purified
themselves." It is thus that she pleaded in her letters to
Gregory after his return to Rome. "Alas! father," she
writes, "do you not see that so far from being men of
virtue, these priests and monks run greedily after all the
delights of this world ; that they seek riches and place and
honours, with open and indecent avidity ; that they who
ought to be wholesome plants planted in the garden of
the Lord, are but foetid weeds, full of impurity, giving
forth poisonous odours. Do thou, father, as an instru-
ment in God's hand, put away all timidity and all spirit
of negligence, and with solicitude do all that thou canst ;
thus shalt thou be the true minister of God ; thus slialt
thou fulfil the will of God, and the desire of his servants
who are dying for grief in seeing such offences against our

204 Catharine of Siena.

Creator, and such trampling under foot of the blood of the
Son of God. Forgive my presumption, holy father ; my
sorrow pleads my excuse. Be ready to give thy life for
Christ crucified. Determine to uproot vice, and to plant
virtue." In another letter, taking a severer tone, she tells
the Pontiff that it were better to give up the keys of St.
Peter than that the Church should be ruled by one who hesi-
tates to extirpate vice. " God demands that justice shall be
executed on those who devour and destroy the holy Church.
Since he hath given you authority over the Church, and
you have accepted that authority, you are bound to make
use of your power ; and if you make not use of it, it would
be better — more for the honour of God and the health of
your own soul — that you should abdicate the authority
which you have accepted."

Political troubles continued, however, to distract the
mind of Gregory from the moral and spiritual reforms
to which Catharine ceaselessly urged him, and to which
he might otherwise have sincerely directed such force as
he possessed. Rebellious Florence continued to be the
chief thorn in his side. Raymond's narrative continues :
" When the Vicar of Christ was, through Catharine's
influence, re-established at Rome, we all went back to
Italy. Catharine then sent me to Rome, to lay before
the holy father several projects for reforming the Church,
which would have been very useful had they been carried
out. During my sojourn in Rome, I was commanded
by my Order to accept the charge of prior of a Roman
convent ; and thus it became impossible for me to return
to Siena. Before leaving Tuscany, I had had an interview
with Nicholas Soderini, (the citizen of Florence, before

Gregory sends Catliarine again to Florence. 205

mentioned, who had continued true to Catharine and her
principles). We had spoken of the affairs of the republic,
and in particular of the ill-will of the Eight of War, who
while pretending to desire peace, continually fomented
rebellion. Soderini said, ' I assure you that the people of
Florence and all the honest citizens desire peace ; but some
obstinate spirits that govern us are a hindrance.' I asked
if there was no remedy to be found for this, and he replied,
' Yes ; if some respectable citizen, taking deeply to heart
the cause of God, could come to an understanding with
some of the leaders of the Guelph party, and obtain the
deposition from office of one or two of the worst of those
who at present govern us, I think the public good might be
secured.'

" I had been occupied several months in fulfilling my
charge as prior and in preaching the word of God, when one
Sunday morning an Envoy of the Pope came to inform me
that his Holiness desired my presence at dinner. I obeyed,
and after the repast the holy father said to me : ' I am told
that if Catharine of Siena were to go to Florence, peace
would be concluded.' I replied, ' Not only Catharine, but
we all, holy father, are ready to serve you, and to suffer
martyrdom if need be.' The holy father then said to me, 'I
do not desire that you, Eaymond, should go to Florence,
because they would maltreat you ; but I wish that she should
go, because she is a woman ; for, because she is a woman,
and because of the great veneration they have for her
character, they will take care not to harm her, and will
listen to her advice. Consider what powers it is suitable
to grant her, and present them to-morrow morning for
my signature, that this business be not delayed.' I

206 Catharine of Siena.

obeyed, and forwarded the bull of Gregory to Catharine,
who promptly set out for Florence."

On this, her third visit to Florence, Catharine was des-
tined to witness stormy scenes and to suffer much, through
the difficulty of the attainment of the peace between the
Florentines and the Church for which she had already so
long laboured, and through the internal discords of the re-
public itself, for which she was to some extent unjustly
held to be accountable. She, immediately on her arrival,
obtained interviews with some of the leaders of the Guelph
party, concerning the obstructive temper of the Eight of
War, who had now become obnoxious to most of the good
citizens of Florence by their evident ambition to establish
themselves as permanent rulers of the State, at the expense
of the true interests of the republic. " They deserved not to
be called rulers, but destroyers of the commonwealth," says
Antoninus, the Archbishop of Florence, already quoted, who
wrote the chronicles of Florence from 1313 to 1459. The
same chronicler says that Catharine counselled the depriva-
tion of office of two or three citizens who were the main
hindrance to the restoration of peace and good order ; that
the Guelph leaders called upon the Priors of the City (in
whom was vested the power to elect the Council of War,
and consequently to depose any member of it), to admonish
the Eight of War. The admonition, and all arguments in
favour of peace, were haughtily rejected, and the Priors
proceeded to depose one of the Eight. They soon after
proceeded to deprive of office two or three other citizens.
*' From this a double fire blazed forth ; on the one side
from the party of those deposed, and on the other from
the Guelph party, who now, abandoning the principles of

Political Troiihles in Florence. 207

strict justice, proceeded to degrade from office certain citi-
zens against whom they had some private grudge, and to
take vengeance on the Ghibelline party and the Eight of
War, who had for so long a time been in the ascendant, and
had formerly banished many of the Guelphs." It soon be-
came evident to Catharine that what had been begun with
an honest purpose, and for the good of the commonwealth,
was being turned to a base and evil end through the
jealousies and desire of revenge existing in the rival fac-
tions in the State. She mourned over this, and denounced
it openly. "She condemned especially," says Antoninus,
" the hunting out of office and banishing of so many and
such useful persons, and she protested against the wicked-
ness of turning a judicial action, undertaken in order to
obtain peace, into an intestine war to gratify their private
hatred." She warned the Florentine leaders that if they
continued to seek their own private interests thus, in place
of the good of the commonwealth, and in doing so to com-
mit such crimes as they now hesitated not to commit, " a
time of such woe for Florence would shortly arrive as
neither they nor their ancestors had ever yet experienced."
Machiavelli records the history of that prolonged and fierce
revolution in Florence, which caused Catharine's words to
be remembered as prophetic.

The conflict between the Guelphs and Ghibellines be-
came more fierce and more complicated every day. But
in the midst of it the peace with the Church was finally
concluded, and the ban removed from the city and its
commerce. Of this I shall speak presently. The Guelph
party was represented by the powerful families of the
Albizzi and the Strozzi ; that of the Ghibellines by the

208 Cathanne of Siena.

Eight of War, the families of the Ricci and the Alberti, and
by Salvestro dei Medici, the ancestor of the great Lorenzo
dei Medici and of Pope Leo X. Salvestro was a man of
very low origin, who had, by his skill in commerce, attained
to great wealth and enormous credit. He was now elected
gonfalonier of the city, and for a time guided his party
successfully in its opposition to the Guelphs. The number
and character of the citizens deprived of office and exiled,
at the instigation of the Guelph nobles, were such as to
excite displeasure even among the most moderate citizens,
who refrained from taking part with either faction. The
Ghibellines demanded the re-election and return of these
deposed citizens. The demand was at first partially and
hesitatingly granted. This was not enough to satisfy
the long-cherished animosity of the Ghibellines, and the
Guelphs felt instinctively that further and larger demands
would follow, the denial of which would be the signal for
civil war.

Everyone knew that the feud was not at an end ;
that the vanquished Guelphs would not submit to their
defeat, nor the vanquishers be satisfied with their victory.
The more cautious of the citizens made preparations for
a revolution w^hich they believed to be inevitable ; they
fortified their houses, and transported the more valuable
of their effects into the churches and monasteries ; the
workshops remained closed, and the whole aspect of
the city was one of mutual distrust and defiance. The
people of Florence, like those of Siena, were divided into
political corporations according to their arts or trades ;
the two great divisions being those of the Great Arts and
the Inferior Arts. On this occasion the division of the

Revolt of the Wool-carders. 209

Great Arts favoured the Guelphs, and that of the Inferior
Arts the Ghibellines, thus causing a most complete and seri-
ous antagonism of the elements of industrial and civil life,
in preparation for the approaching revolutionary encounter.
But, besides this antagonism there existed another, namely,
between the lowest class of the citizens, who had no political
existence, and the class to which they sold their services
as labourers — the higher artisans and merchants belonging
to the divisions of the Great and Inferior Arts. This
lowest class of workpeople was very numerous, and had
greatly increased during the last ten years. They worked
for all the trades and arts, but had no voice in the State.
The art or manufacture of wool, which had attained to the
first importance in Florence, had in its service the greatest
number of these workmen, i.e., the wool-carders and weavers,
who came to be distinguished as the fiercest and most dis-
contented spirits of the time. These wool-carders and
weavers had some just ground of complaint. Not only
had they no political existence, but they seldom were able
to obtain justice from the legal tribunal of the woollen
manufacturers, when any complaint was brought to that
tribunal either by employers or employed. Most naturally
was this the case, for the members of that tribunal were
drawn solely from the class of the employers, and those
who had a representation in the State. " There were at
Florence," says Sismondi, " men whom unceasing me-
chanical labour, extreme poverty, and entire dependence
had deprived of the capacity for harbouring liberal senti-
ments ; who were unable to deliberate except with a kind
of intoxication of mind, nor to act except with a rude fury.
These men received the name of the Ciompi, a corruption of

p

210 Catharine of Siena.

a name which had descended from the times of the tyranni-
cal Duke of Athens," The Giompi were chiefly recruited
from among the poor wool-carders. These men had been
watching their opportunity to seize upon those civil rights
which had not yet been granted to their pacific demand.
They were uneducated, and, for the most part, ignoble and
wretched. Led on by a wool-carder called lionco, they
began deliberately to prepare for the work of pillage and
robbery. Salvestro dei Medici had the boldness to invite
these sans-culottes to his aid, believing them to be an
element which Avould serve the purposes of his party. He
afterwards experienced the truth of Machiavelli's words :
" There is no man bold enough to stir up a revolutionary
movement in a city who can, at his will, either curb the
movement at the point at which he desires to arrest it, or
guide it towards the object at Avhich he aims."i

In a short time the whole city was under arms. The
Eight of War had an advantage in having the control of
the weapons at the service of the State. The mob armed
itself with every kind of rude implement which could be
used for the destruction of life or property. Arrests on
each side took place daily. Many attempts were made
by the Guelphs to admit through the city gates numbers
of armed peasants who waited outside and in the country
round, and who would have ranged themselves under the
leaders of that party. Quiet was partially restored for a
few days by the firm attitude of Louis Guicciardini, who
noAV held the oflBce of Gonfalonier of Justice. He assem-
bled the leaders of the Ciompi, with the Signory and the

^ Machiavelli, Stcnia Fior.

speech of Louis Guicciardini. 211

Syndics of the Ai-ts, in the Grand Piazza, and thus
addressed them : " The more we grant you, the more do
you increase your demands. You asked us to deprive the
captains of parties of their authority ; we did so. You
wished that we should burn their counting-houses and
offices ; we consented. You demanded that the exiles and
those deprived of office should be recalled and reinstated ;
we permitted it. At your entreaty we have pardoned
those who have pillaged houses and robbed the churches ;
to satisfy you we have sent several citizens into exile
who were obnoxious to you ; to favour your party we
have restrained by ordinance the powers of the nobles.
Will your demands have no limit 'i You must see that we
bear much better our defeat than you your victory. Will
you, by your discords, bring this city, during peace, into
a slavery to which no external power, during war, has ever
been able to reduce her 1 For, know, that your victories
over your fellow-citizens will never produce anything
but slavery, and that the property of which you have
robbed us, and will rob us, will never yield anything
except poverty. Wherefore we command you, and, (if
the honour of this republic obliges us to use the word),
we implore you, to calm your spirits and to be content
with what we have done ; or if it be needful that we grant
you yet something more, demand it in a manner becoming
to good citizens, and not by tumult and the show of armed
force." The syndics were much moved by this frank
address, and thanked the gonfalonier, promising him to
labour for the re-establishment of peace in the city. The
signory also at once prepared to make reforms and restore
order. But the wild spirits called up from the depths of

p2

212 Catharine of Siena.

society by Salvestro dei Medici and other demagogues were
not to be so easily conjured into peace.

The Ciompi foresaw, or imagined, punishments being
prepared for them in particular, on account of all the
crimes of which they had been guilty during the tumult,
and exhorted each other to save their own lives by yet
more audacious acts ; " a great peril can only be escaped
by a perilous path," they said. The insurgents conse-
quently assembled the same evening in great numbers
before the prison of San Piero Maggiore and demanded
the release of the prisoners — their friends and fellow-
workmen. They burnt to the ground the house of Guic-
ciardini, the Glonfalonier of Justice, and seized the gon-
falon, or standard of justice, which had been suspended
from his windows. This revered standard, regarded by
the Florentines with almost religious awe, was now
carried by the mob to every place where they vented
their fury. They marched from house to house, pillaging
and burning, and often dedicating to ruin whole fami-
lies on a word of accusation pronounced by a single
enemy.

Catharine had had a house assigned to her when
she came to Florence; it was near to San Giorgio,
and belonged to the family of Canigiani, who were her
friends and allies. Barduccio, who became one of her
secretaries, was a member of this family; and it was
during this visit to Florence that she first made his
acquaintance. Here she remained, steadfast to her pur-
pose, and endeavouring daily, and not without result, to
influence the more sober of the citizens to act in such a
way as to secure some good results when the present

Catharine pursued by the Revolutionaries. 213

tribulations should have passed over. Stephen Maconi had
preceded her to Florence, and had put in practice his native
talent for oratory. " His facile and eloquent speeches had
persuaded many citizens to remain in quietness " and wait
their opportunity to avail themselves of a better spirit
among the people.^ But the torrent of revengeful feeling
and popular disaffection was not yet to be driven back.
News was brought to Catharine that the house of her
friend Nicholas Soderini had been burnt to the ground
and his family driven outside the gates. Not an hour had
elapsed before the mob gathered round the house of the
Canigiani. The account of what followed is given alike
by Eaymond, the Bollandists, Archbishop Antoninus, and
Ammirato. The Eight of "War had not forgotten how
Catharine, by her conduct in the embassy to Avignon, and
by her letters, had exposed the insincerity of their pro-
fessions. They knew her to be the friend of Soderini,
and that she had approved the deposition from office of
one of their number. It was enough for them to give the
slightest hint on these matters to the ruthless bands of
insurgents ; the cry was quickl}' echoed that Catharine
was an enemy to the public good and to the democratic
party. The mob ran to the house of the Canigiani, and set
fire to it. Catharine and her friends escaped, and accepted
the oifered hospitality of one kindly disposed citizen after
another. But one house after another of those with whom
she took refuge was attacked and pillaged and then set
on fire, so that finally no one dared to receive her and
her followers. The leaders of the insurgents pointed her

1 Frigerio, Vita di S. Catariiia.

214 Catharine of Siena.

out to the mob wherever she went, and she could not safely
be seen in the streets. Cries were heard of "Where is
that accursed woman 1 Bring her out and burn her alive !
Cut her in pieces !" The citizens, who no longer dared
to shelter her, begged her to depart from the city.
"Catharine lost nothing of her ordinary tranquillity," says
Raymond. " Confident of her own innocence, she rejoiced
to suffer for the sake of the cause she had at heart." She
encouraged her companions with more than her usual sweet-
ness and cheerfulness of manner. Chased from every re-
treat, she retired into a deserted garden which she found,
and there kneeling down, she poured out her soul in
prayer before God. While she was thus engaged, there
approached a band of the wool-carders of the quarter of
San Giovanni. They were armed with halberds, swords,
and clubs, and were crying out, "Where is the wicked
woman 1 Where is Catharine?" Catharine heard, and
joyfully came forward, ready for martyrdom. She went up
to the leader of the furies, who was in advance of the rest,
and was shouting the loudest, " Where is Catharine 1" He
was bi'andishing a sword in his naked arms. She kneeled
down before him and said, quietly and fearlessly, "I am
Catharine. Do whatever God permits you to do to me ;
but in his name I forbid you to come near or to touch
any one of these who are with me." At these words, the
man who had threatened her seemed to lose his strength
and dropped the point of his sword to the ground. " He
seemed unable to bear her gaze. He ordered her to
go away, to leave his presence."^ But she, full of confi-

^ "Expellebat earn a se, diceus, recede a me." — Bollakdus,
Acta Sanct.

Escape from Political Martyrdom. 215

dence, replied, " I am very well here. Where would you
have me to go 1 I am ready to die for Jesus Christ and
for his people ; that, indeed, is the end of all my desires.
If you are charged to kill me, act fearlessly ; here I am in
your hands ; and be assured that no harm will come to you
from any of my friends." The man turned his face aside,
that he might no longer meet her looks, and eventually
slunk away, taking his followers with him. Catharine's
disciples and friends gathered round her to congratulate
her on her escape from so great a peril ; but she, remaining
on her knees, wept. Many feelings combined to wring from
her those tears. She had not been accounted worthy, she
thought, to suffer death for Christ's sake ; she was filled
also with pity for the poor creatures who had just departed,
so possessed with the spirit of discord and hate. She re-
garded them as victims of an evil power, and remembered
that by ignorance and suffering and the absence of all
spiritual light they had been drawn into committing such
acts of violence and revengefulness ; and she prayed,
*' Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Her friends now seriously advised her to return to Siena ;
but she steadfastly refused to do so, saying, " God has com-
manded me not to quit the territory of the republic of
Florence until the peace with the Church is concluded."
They dared not longer oppose her ; and two brave citizens,
a tailor and his wife, concealed her for several days in their
house. Some time after, however, Catharine consented to
retire with her disciples to the monastery of Vallombrosa,
near Florence. They went there on foot, and arrived in the
evening at this cool and shadowy retreat among the hills,
whence they returned a few weeks later to Florence.

216 Catharine of Siena.

It will now be necessary to go back to the month of
March of that year, in order to trace the events connected
with the Papacy. The efforts of Catharine to obtain the
long-desired peace between Florence and the Church had
begun to bear fruit in the midst of the internal troubles of
the republic. She prevailed upon Gregory to moderate his
demands, and gradually influenced a few of the leading
citizens of Florence in favour of holding a congress to
agree upon the conditions of peace. The King of France
also wrote to Gregory, advising a meeting for arbitration.
Bernabos Visconti, to the surprise of all, now also declared
himself in favour of such a settlement. The reason for
this became afterwards apparent. Bernabos had prevailed
upon Gregory to agree that, in return for his mediation,
he should receive a large portion of the eight hundred
thousand florins which Gregory hoped to receive from
the League of revolted cities, as restitution for the wrong
done by them to the Church. It appears from the cor-
respondence of Catharine that Bernabos had, on one
occasion during her public career, deemed it worth his
while to send ambassadors to treat with her. When, and
for what purpose, this deputation was sent to Catharine
it is not easy to ascertain ; but it appears probable that
it occurred at the time when the arbitration was pro-
posed, and when the Duke of Milan appeared before the
surprised world in his new character of a promoter of
peace. His real motive, as we have seen, was avarice.
He may very probably, however, have desired to estab-
lish relations with Catharine in order to be able the better
to act for a time this part before the world. Her letters
do not throw any light on his intentions. She merely

A Peace Congress. 217

replied with searching appeals to his conscience, and warn-
ings to him to repent and live as a Christian. This was
not at all what Bernabos asked or wanted of her, and the
correspondence ceased.

The presence of the Pope in Italy tended greatly to facili-
tate the peace. He had already withdrawn many of the
legates from the positions they had held as agents in
governing ; he had remitted the taxes imposed by them ;
his return to Italy was itself a guarantee of his desire for
a good understanding with the republics ; and he had already
begun to win back in some degree the estranged affections
of his subjects. Sarzana, in Liguria, was the place chosen
for the meeting of the congress. The Pope sent there his
plenipotentiary, the Cardinal de la Grange, Bishop of
Amiens. Four ambassadors were sent from Florence and
two from Naples, from the court of Queen Joanna. The
Venetians and Genoese were also represented by chosen
ambassadors, while the Duke of Milan was supposed to
represent the interests of Lombardy. Difficulties arose
concerning the enormous tribute demanded by the ambassa-
dors of the Church. The arbitrators had almost reached a
settlement of the question by arranging a partition of the
burden among the various revolted cities, which would,
it was hoped, be accepted by all, when the news reached
the assembled congress of the death of Gregory. This
event deferred the ratification of the peace for foiu"
months, during which period occurred the events of the
Florentine revolution already described. In the course
of the same period the great schism took place which
divided Chnstendom, and which stands on the page
of history as a scandal presented before the whole world

218 Cailmrine of Siena.

by the Church which professed itself one and indivisible,
governed by an infallible chief.

Raynaldns, in his " Ecclesiastical Annals," gives the
character of Gregory XL : " He was of an affectionate
and domestic nature ; he loved his own people and
family ; he yielded, indeed, too much to their wishes,
especially in the matter of promotions. He was blame-
less in his private life, and pitiful and generous to the
poor. Immediately on his return to Italy he remitted
all the duties and taxes upon the carriage of corn, hay,
wine, &c., which the legates had imposed on the people of
Italy ; and by a solemn decree he forbade the imposition
in future of any such taxes on his subjects. He possessed
a cultivated mind, and was a lover of learning and learned
men. The anxieties and cares which he encountered on
his return to Rome contributed, with the progress of an
internal disease from which he had long suffered, to bring
about his death at the age of sixty- seven."^ He died at
midnight on the 27th of March, 1378.

The death of Gregory, and the Schism which succeeded,
sounded a truce for a season to all civil wars in Italy,
and etfected a great change in the public feeling through-
out the nation towards the Church. The hatred which
the Italians had felt towards the French who had seized
on all the dignities and powers of the Church, had led
them on to fight against the Church itself. After the
death of Gregory, the same hatred urged the Italians to
rally round his successor, an Italian. The pontiffs and
prelates of Avignon had conspired against the liberties

' Ruynaldus, Auiiales Ecclts., V. xvi. , p. 555.

Eleciion of Urban VI. 219

of Italy ; their policy had been grasping and perfidious.
They had filled the peninsula with their fierce mercenary
bands of Bretons ; they had bribed to submission the Queen
of Naples and had secured the protection of the King of
France. All this power was destroyed by the great Schism
of the West. The Court of Rome was deprived hence-
forward of the support of the Ultramontanes. Its wealth,
already dissipated in civil war, and now divided between
two rival pontiffs, was no longer sufficient for the sub-
sidizing of troops, nor for the keeping up of any luxurious
state. The Italian Pontiff was at the mercy of the republics
which his predecessors had endeavoured to crush. Happily
for him, the animosity of these republics had vanished,
together with the danger which they had incurred from the
power and avarice of the Ultramontanes.^

On the 7th of April, the cardinals entered into conclave
for the election of the new Pope. Eleven of the cardinals
were French, one Spanish, and four Italian. A short resi-
dence in Italy had deepened the aversion of the French
cardinals towards that country, and they only awaited the
election of a new Pope in order, as they hoped, to re-
conduct the Pontifical Court to Avignon. This was well
known in Rome, and now produced great excitement. The
people flocked round the Vatican on the day on which the
doors were to be locked upon the cardinals in conclave.
They essayed by clamour to obtain some influence over
the deliberations. "We want a Roman," they cried, "a
Roman, or at least an Italian." A great part of the crowd
even rushed into the Vatican and clamoured at the doors

* Slsmondi, "History of the Italian Republics," Vol. vii., Chap. L

220 Catharine of Siena.

of the chamber where the cardinals were assembled. "These
accursed Komans," says the French biographer of Gregory,
"were armed, and refused to go out." After some hours
of uproar, the Bishop of Marseilles prevailed upon the
greater number of them to retire ; forty or fifty, however,
refused to do so, and continued to run about in all the
corners of the building, under the pretence of seeing
whether there were any armed men concealed, any points
of egress, or means of communication with the outer
world. This pretended search lasted an enormous time,
while the multitudes outside continued to shout, "A
Eoman ! — we must have a Roman!" The uneasiness of
the cardinals increased the more on seeing the approach
of a deputation from the Gonfaloniers and Municipal
Council of Rome. They received the deputation in the
little chapel of the Vatican, The chief Gonfalonier repre-
sented to the Sacred College how grievously the whole of
Christendom had suffered by the absence of the Popes
from Italy. The churches and buildings at Rome had
fallen into ruin ; there were several cardinals who had
never in the whole course of their lives visited the
churches whos3 titles they bore, and who had allowed
them to be deserted, although they continued to be to them-
selves a source of income. The ecclesiastical States had
been left a prey to venal, insolent, and arbitrary vicarious
rulers ; a universal revolt had been the consequence of
this mode of government, so different from the just and
careful administration of the early Church. It was by a
most happy providence, they added, that the good Pope
Gregory had come back to die in Rome, so that the
Sacred College was forced to assemble in the ecclesiastical

Election of Urban FL 221

capital for the election of his successor. Hence it was
most desirable that the wishes of the Romans, and of the
Italians in general, should be considered on the momentous
choice about to be made. The deputation retired to allow
the cardinals to deliberate. They were presently again
introduced, and Cardinal Corsini, Bishop of Florence,
whose heart was nevertheless wholly with the Italians,
replied in the name of the Sacred College, that he was
astonished at the attempt made to influence a decision
concerning which neither fear nor favour, nor the clamours
of the people ought to have anything to do; and that
the Holy Spirit alone by his inspiration would determine
the choice. The deputation retired very ill-satisfied, and
the people renewed their noise, and the cry, "Give us a
Roman ! " Despite of the firmness shown by the Bishop
of Florence the popular clamour did influence the Sacred
College. The people remembered that for three centuries
the right of electing the Pope had belonged to them, and
the cardinals very well knew that it would be a risk to
ignore the past and to set aside entirely the wishes of the
Romans. The French cardinals were divided into two
parties concerning the election. Both parties desired a
French Pope, but personal rivalries prevented them from
agreeing as to whom they would elect. Seeing that they
ran a risk, by their division, of giving a dangerous advantage
to the Italians, the French cardinals at last agreed upon the
Cardinal Archbishop of Bari. This cardinal was a Nea-
politan by birth, and a subject of Queen Joanna, who had
always favoured the French supremacy in Italy and the
residence of the papacy at Avignon. He had also lived for
several years at Avignon, whence it was hoped that his

222 Catharine of Siena.

sympathies might have become already more enlisted on
their side than on that of the Italians ; as an Italian, he
would satisfy the Italians ; moreover, he had the reputation
of being a sternly religious as well as a learned man. The
hour came for collecting the suffrages. The cardinals being
all seated, the Bishop of Florence, who was the senior
cardinal, pronounced with a loud voice the name of the
Cardinal of St. Peter's as the future Pope. The Cardinal
of Limoges, the next in order, then arose and said : " The
Cardinal of St. Peter's is unsuitable, because, being a Roman,
it will appear as though the Sacred College had yielded to
the clamours of the Romans ; besides which, he is old and
infirm. The Bishop of Florence is not eligible, because
he comes from a city in revolt against the Church ; Car-
dinal Orsini is a Roman, and is, besides, much too young.
Thus the three Italians who might be considered eligible
are rejected ; and, therefore, I propose the Cardinal Arch-
bishop of Bari." All, with the exception of the Cardinal
of Florence and the young Cardinal Orsini, who himself
hoped to have been elected, voted for the Cardinal of
Bari ; and he was canonically elected. The College,
however, feared to announce to the people the fact that
they had not elected a Roman ; all the more, because
as a curious ancient custom allowed, the people claimed
the right of pillaging the palace of the newly-elected
Pope and carrying away his goods. The tumult of the
impatient people continued to increase in and around
the Vatican, while the Cardinals sat nervously on their
chairs, each one afraid to propose the proclamation of
the result of the election. Cardinal Orsini at last ran to
a window, and beckoning to the people to be silent, he

The Vatican Invaded by the Populace. 223

declared to them that the new Pope was elected. They
clamorously demanded the name, and Orsini, in the midst
of confusion replied, '* Go to St. Peter's, and you will learn."
The words St. Peter's, repeated by the crowd, gave rise
to the belief that the Cardinal of St. Peter's was elected.
The people were mad with joy, and the house of the old
cardinal was stripped from top to bottom. Meanwhile the
cardinals remained in the Vatican. The people returning
from the sack of the house of the Cardinal of St. Peter's
and finding the doors of the Vatican still closed, forced
them and rushed in to do homage, they said, to the new
Pope. The fear of the cardinals increased on seeing that
the people were still in error as to who was the new Pope,
and they dreaded to enlighten them. They were seized,
in fact, with a panic, and endeavoured to escape, some by
the great doors which the people had forced, and others
through the chaplain's private rooms. The populace forced
an entrance into the small chapel where the venerable and
unambitious Tebaldeschi, Cardinal of St. Peter's, was
sitting, quietly meditating on the passing events. They
prostrated themselves before him as Pope, and asked his
benediction. It was in vain that the aged cardinal
replied, " I have not been elected ; I am not, and I do
not wish to be Pope." His feeble voice was lost amidst
the surrounding tumult, and those who heard the last
words thought he was only modestly declaring that he
had not desired election. The more the mistake gained
ground, the more troubled and anxious became the car-
dinals. The greater part of them left the city that even-
ing, and sought refuge in their country-houses, taking
care only to spread the news as they quitted the gates

224 Catharine of Siena.

that Cardinal Bari was the elected Pope. Bari, not less
troubled than the rest, had concealed himself in a secret
room in the Vatican, while the mob feasted upon the
remains of the provisions which had been provided for the
Conclave. The agitation calmed down a little; and the next
morning the Bishop of Florence announced the facts concern-
ing the election to the Gonfaloniers of the city assembled at
the Capitol, and besought the Roman people to accept the
new Pope. The people were not slow in reconciling them-
selves to the decision, and Cardinal Bari was publicly elected
Pope, under the title of Urban VI. Urban pronounced his
initiatory oration ; the bells rang, and Te Deums were sung.
Urban was thus, manifestly, duly and legitimately
elected ; and although clamour had accompanied the
process of election, yet the result was afterwards con-
firmed by all the cardinals, deliberately, and in the midst
of calm and of popular contentment. But the character
of Urban was, unfortunately, in some respects, ill suited
for the emergencies of the times in which he was ele-
vated to the papacy. He was altogether unlike his pre-
decessor, Gregory XI. He was firm, stern, and uncom-
promising, indifferent to the luxuries, refinements, and
even comforts of this life. He was determined to reform
the Church ; but his manner of advising and promoting
reforms was rude and repelling, and sometimes unjust.
His temper was his bane. He was proud, insolent,
overbearing, and passionate. His manner continually
offended and estranged those around him, even when his
actions were praiseworthy and his intentions good. His
dark olive complexion, quick glancing black eyes, and
lean, nervous hands indicated the bilious and restless

Character- of Urban VI . 225

temperament referred to by papal biographers. " He was
a man of great probity and virtue," says Muratori, " but
wanting in humility. Instead of winning the affection of
the cardinals and prelates, and thus labouring for the
reform of the Church, he showed openly his detestation of
their dissolute lives, their cupidity and luxury and simony.
He besieged the palaces of some of them, and rudely intro-
duced many novelties and reforms, very necessary in them-
selves, but so imposed as to show a contempt for the
liberty of the persons on whom he imposed them." He
quickly excited against himself, as well as against his re-
forms, the anger of the French cardinals, who " saw not only
their libertinism but their liberty threatened." i Doubtless
his proud and haughty manner was a hindrance to the
success of his proposed reforms ; yet it cannot be believed
that the utmost of courtesy and gentleness would have
availed to reconcile the French cardinals to a moral and
self-denying life, or to avert the revolt which Catharine
had long before foretold, when she said to Raymond, " A.9
soon as the Pope shall attempt to reform the morals of the
Church, you will see that the conduct of the clergy will be
worse than that of the laity ; they will rebel against the
Holy See," &c. The gluttony of the high ecclesiastics had
often been the object of the satirical attacks of Petrarch,
and the cardinals could merrily quote at their feasts the
classic denunciations of the poet; but Urban excited
something more than mirth and laughter when he ordered
that no more than a single dish was ever to be seen upon
the table of any prelate of whatever rank, and when he

^ Muratori, Vol. xii., p. 606.
Q

226 Catharine of Siena.

himself set the example, holding to his own rule, even on
occasions of the greatest hospitality. He endeavoured, in
the same abrupt manner, to put a stop to simony ; and he
threatened with excommunication all prelates who should
accept of any presents. He announced his intention never
to leave Rome, and commanded the cardinals to make
preparations for spending both their summers and winters
there. The Gonfaloniers of Rome having formally peti-
tioned him, on his election, according to custom, to create
some new cardinals, he replied, in the presence of the
Ultramontane cardinals : "I will not only make a. few pro-
motions, but I will make so many that henceforward the
Italian cardinals shall always outnumber the foreigners in
the Sacred College." Cardinal Robert of Geneva (the pro-
moter of the massacre of Cesena) turned pale with anger
and left the hall.^ In the consistories Urban was far from
being conciliatory. He interrupted the cardinals when
they were speaking. " You have said enough," he would
say to one. " Hold your tongue ; you do not know what
you are talking about," to another. He so far forgot him-
self as to call the high-spirited young Cardinal Orsini a
fool ; 2 and he accused the Cardinal de St. Marcel, in full
consistory, of embezzling the money of the Church. " You
lie like a true Calabrese," replied that fiery Frenchman,
<vho resented the insult to himself as a gentleman and a
prelate. Such amenities failed to promote harmony in the
carrying out of the reforms.

1 Tommaso di Acerno, " De Creatione Urbani VI."
^ " Item cardinal! de Ursinis dixit quod erat unus sotus.'' —
Tommaso di Acerno.

Revolt of the French Cardinals. 227

The French cardinals, alarmed at the threatened reforms,
and disgusted with Urban, retired to the pleasant shades
of Anagni, where they had made great preparations for
spending the summer. It was the end of June, and the
great heat had already begun to shake the nerves and
aggravate the irritable tempers of many of the prelates.
Urban quickly sent to recall some of the cardinals, who
ought, he averred, to be by his side, to conduct the business
of the Church. They declined to come. The bitterness on
each side was increased by the refusal of Urban to pay
back to Gaetano, Count of Fondi, a debt of 20,000 florins
which he had lent to Gregory XL, and which Urban pro-
tested had been borrowed by Gregory for his private ex-
penses, and not for the Church. Gaetano repaired to Anagni,
to nurse his wrath by conferring with the cardinals, whom
he further stirred up against Urban. The governor of the
Castle of St. Angelo, in Rome, now refused any longer to
obey the orders of Urban. It was evident that a revolt
was imminent. Cardinal Robert of Geneva, who continued
to retain some fierce Breton troops in his pay, marched
them to Anagni, to be at the service of the cardinals. The
Romans essayed to stop their crossing of the bridge of
Salario, and were defeated by them with the loss of five
hundred men. The cardinals, inflated by this triumph,
hilariously informed Urban that they would never return
to him, either in Rome or anywhere else, and patroniz-
ingly advised him to take to himself a coadjutor in the
government who might instruct him in better modes of
carrying out impossible reforms. When Urban angrily
reproached them with their profligacy and with the misery
they caused to the poor, (for he appears to have had a real

q2

228 Catharine of Siena.

sympathy with the humbler classes of the people), they re-
plied, with the usual hypocritical cant, that " vices of the
kind alluded to with such painful and unseemly plainness
of speech by the Pontiff, had existed from the beginning of
the world, and must always exist ;" that Moses, the great
lawgiver, had wisely provided for and legislated for these
evils, thus recognizing them as a perpetual necessity of
human society ; that all men, and still more all women,
were frail ; that it was Utopian to pretend that immorality
could be rooted out; that Christianity itself had never done
anything towards purifying society of the evil indicated by
the Pontiff; and that "those men and women who were
generally considered to be saints would be seen to be, in
fact, no better than others, could the secrets of their lives be
known."

Catharine had made the acquaintance of Urban at Avig-
non, and had had several conversations with him during the
journey to Marseilles. She understood already sufficiently
the character of the man, and that his domineering will and
the harshness of his manner might prove injurious to his in-
fluence, while his honesty, uprightness, and zeal would be
powerful agencies in the carrying out of the reforms of
the Church. Her letters to him, consequently, abound in
gentle warnings, and earnest advice to "temper zeal with
charity," to accept all contradiction and opposition with
" tranquillity of heart," and to gather around him, above all,
wise and Christian counsellors to aid him in his great work.
At the same time she continued to denounce incessantly
and with ever-increasing indignation the horrible im-
morality existing among the clergy, and to point out, as
the only hope for humanity, a searching and a " scorch-

She Urges the Eefm-mation of the Church. 229

ing" repentance, a thorough reformation, and a return to
the pure and simple preaching of Christ cnicified, and to
primitive simpUcity of life and manners. Her letters, indeed,
voluminous and lengthy as they are, presented to us in their
collected form, give the impression not unfrequently of
wearisome repetition, so constantly are the same thoughts
and counsels reiterated, so consistently does the writer
" know nothing among her fellow-men save Jesus Christ
and him crucified," and so great is her fidelity and fearless
persistency in reproving the wickedness of her times. In
one of her letters she describes with a touch of scornful
irony the appearance, in those days, of the " ministers of
Christ," or those who ought to have been so. They pre-
sented the appearance of gay knights, with their plumed
bonnets, their military boots and spurs, their jewelled
swords, their silken sashes embroidered with gold, and
their carefully curled hair, looking like worldly " gallants "
rather than pastors of Christ's poor and forsaken flock.
She declares that the knowledge of their impurities causes
her soul to faint within her, and she longs for Christ to
appear again and drive out with his inexorable scourge the
profaners of his sanctuary.

Precisely at this time there lived in far-off England
a stern monk who, in order to rebuke the luxury of
the clergy in his own land, had adopted a life of extreme
poverty, and who, lean and fasting, and dressed in a
coarse garment, was going barefooted on his missions,
preaching repentance, and carrying terror to the con-
sciences of wicked professors and false teachers. He laid
the wooden cross he carried over the backs of the vicious
priests, fulminating terrible curses upon their cupidity,

230 Catharine of Siena.

impurity, and pride, and beating them till they cried out
for mercy. This monk was John WyclifFe, Catharine's
contemporary. In their opposition to practical ungodliness,
the spirit of the fiery reformer animated both.

The French cardinals, during their residence at Anagni,
laboured to detach the four Italian cardinals from their alle-
giance to Urban. They entirely failed with Tebaldeschi,
the old cardinal of St. Peter's ; but with the three others
they so far succeeded as to obtain from them a declaration
of neutrality. Tebaldeschi, alone remaining in Rome with
Urban, died in the first week of August, declaring with his
last breath that Urban had been duly elected. Urban was
thus deprived of his last support in the Sacred College,
The French cardinals, assured of the alliance of the King of
France and the Queen of Naples, proclaimed unanimously,
on the 9th of August, 1378, that the Holy See was vacant.
They declared that Urban had been illegally elected under
the intimidation of a mutinous populace, and they pro-
nounced his election null. When this intelligence reached
Urban, he at once elected twenty-nine new cardinals.
The Frenchmen, hearing this, in the bitterness of their
wrath and jealousy, called a consistory at Fondi, re-
tired in conclave, and proceeded to the election of a
new Pope. Their choice fell on Robert of Geneva, the
instigator of the massacre of Cesena, whom they elevated
to the papal throne on the 20th of September, with the
title of Clement VII. Two days previously, i.e., on the
18th of September, Catharine addressed a long letter to
Urban, in which she urged him to accept with humility
" all fatigues, calumnies, contempt, injuries, insults, in-
justices, and the loss of temporal good, and to seek

Lelter to Urban. 231

the honour of God alone in the salvation of souls." Thus
alone, and by the practice of Christ's precepts, she tells
him, can the victory be gained by the true over the false
leaders of the Church. " You know, father, that without
enormous suffering and labour it will be impossible to attain
to that for which we long, the reform of the Church by
good, honest, and holy men. In bearing magnanimously
the blows which will be brought to bear on you by those
who wield the sword of schism, you will receive light, the
light of truth ; and the truth will save us, in the midst of
the clouds and darkness of falsehood and schism. 0 my
father ! gird upon you the armour of God. Take the sword
of truth ; now is the time to draw it from its sheath, and
to use it first against yourself, in banishing evil from your
own soul, and then against the ministers of the Church.
I say against yourself, father, because no one in this life is
without sin, and reform must begin first in ourselves.
Love of virtue must first flourish in ourselves before we
can plant it in our neighbour. Make war against vice ;
and if you find you cannot change the hearts of men,
(which God alone, making use of human agents, can do),
at least, holy father, reject and drive far from you those
whose lives are guilty and impure. Do not, at least,
tolerate any longer acts of debauchery ; I do not say im-
moral dispositions, because you cannot command men's
wills, but you caw forbid their acts. No more simony, no
more excess of pleasures and luxury, no more gambling,
no more buying and selling of that which belongs to the
poor, no more merchandise of the holy things, and of the
blood of Christ, no more priests and canons who, while
they ought to be mirrors of virtue, are barterers and cheats,

232 Catliarine of Siena.

spreading all around them the contagion of their own
lechery and impurity." She mourns for the Church and
for the souls which are lost : " I am as one who has not
where to lay her head ; for wherever I turn I see the
inferno of many iniquities, and the poison of egotism ; and
above all in our city of Rome, which ought to be a holy
place, we see a den of thieves ; and all through the fault of
these wicked pastors, who have never leproved sin, either
in words or by their own lives. . . . Self-love will
make men lise up against you, father; they will not
endure your reproofs. Kindle in your breast, nevertheless,
the fire of holy justice, and be fearless, for you have need
of courage and a manly heart. ' If God be with us, who
can be against us ? ' Rejoice, then, and be glad, for one
day your joy will be full. After all these toils the true
repose will come — the reformation of the Church. Though
you should see yourself deserted by all, do not slacken
your pace in this rugged path, but run all the more per-
severingly, fortified by faith, guided by the light of truth,
and upheld by constant prayer, and the companionship of
the servants of God. . . . Seek out good men. Besides
the Divine aid you need the aid of God's servants, who
will counsel you with faith and sincerity, and without
passion or self-seeking. It seems to me you are greatly in
need, fathei', of such counsellors. I would fain no longer
write, but speak with you ; I would be on the field of battle
by your side, bearing every trial, and combating till death for
the truth, for the honour of the Lord, and for the reform
of the Church. Pardon me if I have spoken too boldly.
I crave your blessing."

It will be necessary to return for a moment to the

Peace between Florence and the Church. 233

events of three months previously, Catharine had retired
for a short time to Vallombrosa, near Florence. Towards
the end of June she sent Friars Bartolommeo and John
Tantucci to Kome with a letter to Urban, beseeching him to
sign the treaty of peace with Florence which had been
agreed upon at Sarzana. She entreated him not to give
too much heed to the reports which might have reached
him of the revolution in Florence, for which the mass of the
people, she said, were not so much to blame as some furious
and selfish spirits who had incited them to violence. Urban
responded at once to her appeal, and that of the chief
magistrates of Florence. He sent two legates from Rome,
who pronounced solemnly the removal of the ban of ex-
communication from the republic ; the churches were opened
again, and new life and hope seemed at once to be com-
municated to the people of Florence, despite the still dark
and troubled state of internal politics. Some weeks later
the ratification of the treaty of peace, with a letter from the
Pope, was received and read publicly before the assembled
people in the great Piazza. Catharine's joy was un-
bounded. She wrote a letter to the magistrates of Siena,
to be read to all her friends in that city, in which she called
upon them to praise God, who had heard the prayers of
his people. She had returned to Florence from Vallom-
brosa, and had strengthened by her presence and coun-
sels her friends the Soderini family, the Canigiani, and
others. The head of the family of the Canigiani had
been deprived in the revolution of all the offices he had
held; his house had been burned and his property con-
fiscated. Young Barduccio Canigiani, who had fled from
the burning house with his father and mother, became

234 Catharine of Siena.

from this time the constant companion and the secretary of
Catharine till her death. He returned with her to Siena
towards the end of July. She spent a part of the autumn
of 1378 in composing her book, the "Dialogue," much of
which Barduccio transcribed for her.

The revolution of the Ciompi was not finally subdued
until the end of August. The demands of the revolution-
aries had continued to become more and more immoderate
and their conduct more tyrannical. Great numbers of the
citizens, of both the Guelph and the Ghibelline party,
retired from the scene of strife to the country, or to other
cities ; the priors of the Great and Inferior Arts followed this
example and went into voluntary exile, with the exception
of Acciamoli and Nero, two of the most courageous of those
who had laboured to restrain the popular frenzy. These
two met one day alone, in the Palazzo Pubblico, and realized
that they were the only remaining magistrates in the city.
They listened for a moment to the roar and tramp of the
multitude without, glanced round at the vacant offices
and deserted corridors, and then decided to place the keys
of the palace in the hands of the people, and take their
departure. The doors of the palace were now thrown
wide open, and the mob rushed in, — the triumphant mob
which had now got rid of all government and all laws,
and had seen the last of its magistrates depart. The even-
ing before, this mob had elevated one of their own num-
ber, a wool-carder, to the office of Gonfalonier of Justice.
His name was Michael Lando. At this moment Michael
Lando appeared, uncombed and unwashed, his clothes
hanging in rags, and his feet and legs bare from the
knees. He rushed up the great stairs of the palace,

Michael Lando. 236

followed by the people; when he reached the audience
chamber he turned and faced the multitude, and shouted,
"This palace is yours, O sovereign people ; this city is
yours ! — what is now your sovereign will ? " The people
with one voice replied that Lando must continue to be
Gonfalonier of Justice, and establish a reformed govern-
ment. Michael Lando was master of the people ; he might
at this moment have instituted an absolute government and
made himself tyrant of Florence. His rule would have been
as absolute as that of the Duke of Athens. But happily for
the republic, Michael was a patriot : he sincerely loved
liberty and his country. He set himself at once to re-
establish order, and took stern means to make the laws
respected and obeyed. He recalled and re-assembled the
Syndics of the Arts, and proceeded to make new elections-
from the middle classes of the people. The new govern-
ment was formed on the same principles as the former ; but
the men who composed it were for the most part new, and
on the whole well chosen. The malcontents and disorderly
mob were astonished; and, disappointed of their hoped-
for plunder and license, they came in a threatening manner
to the palace to complain. Michael told them plainly that
their manner proved in itself that their demands were
contrary to the laws ; he commanded them at once to lay
down their arms ; for he would yield nothing to force.
By his firmness during several weeks of conflict, he
quelled the revolutionaries, and quietness was to some
degree restored. Nicolas Soderini and other citizens
were permitted to return. The Eight of War were
the only members of the former government who had
remained during this time in Florence. They had made

236 Catharine of Siena.

use of the people for their own ends, and were now deter-
mined to share with them the fruits of victory. They
opposed Lando in his schemes for reform, and proclaimed
one of their own number head of the government. But
Lando sent for them and informed them that the people
had won the right to govern themselves, and that the
counsels of the Eight were now no longer needed. He then
ordered them to leave the palace. " Thus those who had
let loose the passions of the populace in the hope of using
them in their own interests, were the first to be duped and
destroyed by their own guilty policy." ^

^ Machiavelli, Lib. iii. , p. 240.

CHAPTER VIIL

Catharine was now thirty-one years of age. The drama
of her life began to draw to its close. The evening of
her days — if the term can be justly made use of in her
case — was not peaceful. It passed in the midst of
tumult : of storms overhead, and conflict within. She
was not permitted to see her cherished hopes for the
reformation of the Church in any but the feeblest manner
fulfilled. Yet her faith did not fail. Like many others
who have given themselves to God, with desire to be
made his instruments in the working out of his merciful
designs, she was led, step by step, into a larger sphere of
aim and hope and action, than in the beginning of her
career she had dreamed of. Like many other reformers,
she at first hoped for a more quick return for her labours ;
but as the years went on, she learned, as they have
learned, that God had greater designs in view than any
which came within their human calculations ; that her
place in the great work was that of a pioneer ; that after
she had laboured, others would enter into the reward of
her labours ; and that, although the fields were already
white to the harvest, the time of reaping was not yet.
She learned to look, without loss of faith, even upon the
deepening of the surrounding darkness, the prelude to
the coming dawn. She acknowledged the necessity and

238 Catharine of Siena.

the justice of great tribulations to be endured before peace
could rest upon Zion. She foresaw a further letting loose
of the powers of hell before the arm of the Lord should be
fully revealed for their destruction. For " to the Lord one
■day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one
day. Therefore impatience was subdued, while hope re-
mained in greater strength than before. Though the
shadows darkened on her earthly path, and the clouds
gathered over her head as she advanced to her eternal rest,
she continued firm in the faith that the time would come
when the knowledge of the Lord should fill the whole earth.
Her spiritual vision was fortified, and the horizon of her
hopes extended. Her writings, towards the close of her
life, reveal the increasing yearning of her soul over her
fellow men. She dwelt upon the Lord's command to his
disciples to " Go into all the world, and teach all nations,"
and to "preach the Gospel to every creature." Hers was
not a soul which could contentedly contemplate a " world
lying in wickedness," a desert land unreclaimed for God,
outside the boundaries of a privileged church or nation.
No amount of wickedness appalled her into the belief
that any sinners must be left to perish as outcasts from
God and hope. In her last exhortations to her friends
she bade them hope for all ; " for there is no man on
earth," she said, "however wicked, who may not repent
and live," But in order to win the dark and erring mul-
titudes to the fold, the Church, which possessed the
saving knowledge, the Church, which had been com-
missioned to evangelize the world, must first be purged,
reformed, and revived ; and she held fast the belief that
the day of purification would come for the Church, the

Her Character as a Reformer. 239

spouse of Christ, "the antechamber of the kingdom of glory,
the image of the celestial," as says St. Ambrose. She did
not shrink from the scourging and mutilation which she
foresaw to be in store for it, " God will absolutely purge
his Church," she wrote to Urban, " whether you do your
utmost or not to accomplish that reform for the promotion
of which you are elevated to a position of so great dignity.
He will not spare. He will cut away without fail all the
rotten wood of this tree, and will plant it again in a manner
of his own." There can be little doubt that, had she lived
two centuries later, in the midst of the convulsion which rent
Christendom, she would have stood firm on the side of evan-
gelic truth, and joined her protest to that of the Reformers.
We cannot doubt that she, who so feared and abhorred
the temporal domination and worldly magnificence of the
Church, Avould have hailed the time when the pride of
ecclesiastical Rome should be laid low ; and above all, that
she would have rejoiced to see the word of God, unchained
and free, taking wings, and flying to the ends of the earth,
the priceless possession of the nations, bringing to each in
their own tongue the glad tidings of salvation.

But Catharine never raised a protest, it may be said,
against false doctrine. Her efforts were directed solely
to moral reformation, her attacks being mainly aimed at
the vices, worldliness, and ungodliness of the clergy.
The same may be asserted concerning the earlier part of
the career of almost all the great reformers of the suc-
ceeding centuries. Savonarola, Wyclitfe, Huss, and
Luther, each and all attacked in the first instance the
immoral and irreligious life of the clergy, and denounced
the practical abuses and corruptions of the Church.

240 CailMiine of Siena.

Like St. John the Baptist, they at first preached, " prepare
ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight ; " like him,
they called upon all men to repent and put away their sins,
in expectation of the salvation of the Lord which was at
hand. Thns did Catharine. She, like her countryman
Savonarola, clung firmly to the life which still remained
buried amidst corruption, in the heart of the ancient tree,
while she feared not to see the whole mass of the " rotten
wood " cut away. It was only by degrees that the later
reformers were each led on to a wider view and a deeper in-
sight, and were taught to perceive wherein the doctrine as
well as practice of the Church of Rome was based on error.
But Catharine's life was short ; her brief career was crowded
with active ministrations. There was not room in it for
much that she might have achieved, spoken, and written, had
her life been prolonged ; nor perhaps was there pause
enough in her life to have made it possible for her to enter
upon the grave and laborious task of doctrinal controversy
and reform. Her own example and teaching indicated,
however, a great simplicity of belief in her own case. It
would be difficult to give a distinct answer to the question
as to what were her views or opinions on points of doc-
trine rejected by the reformed churches ; for in her works
there is found little or no allusion to many of these
points. Probably if herself questioned as to her belief,
she would have replied, as a daughter of the Church, that
she held all that was taught by the Church. Yet many
of these doctrines taught by the Koman Church appear
to have dropped out of her soul and life, so to speak ; or
rather, it may be said, the one pre-eminent truth which
she loved, above all other, so filled her soul that it over-

The Simplicity of her Belief. 241

shadowed and eclipsed all other teachings. Her writings
and discourses are permeated from first to last with that
simple evangelic truth, that Jesus Christ the Son of God
took upon himself our nature, and died and rose again
for our redemption ; that by apprehending and loving this
truth, by believing in and by loving him who thus loved
us, we are saved, and by love are made conformable to him.
"This," as she said to the Pisan, Albizi, "this is enough for
you and me. This is the true science." In the matter of
the dogmas concerning prayers for the dead, the invocation
of saints, the "real presence," &c., it is difficult, nay, indeed,
impossible, exactly to formulate her views, seeing that she
rarely expressed herself in a positive manner on these
subjects. Her written prayers are all, with one exception,
addressed to the Father in Heaven, to Jesus Christ, and to
the Eternal Spirit who helpeth our infirmities. The one
exception is the prayer written on the feast of the Annun-
ciation. In the first sentences of this she apostrophizes the
Virgin Mary, enumerating her virtues, and setting these
forth before her own soul as worthy of imitation. This
apostrophe breaks off, however, suddenly into an address to
God. " I contemplate, O Eternal ! this supreme act of
thine (the Incarnation), and perceive how thou hast re-
garded the dignity and glory of human nature. Love urged
thee to create man. Love urged thee to redeem him. . . .
Thy power and thy love have done all." . . .

Catharine, then, was not a reformer in the sense of
being an opponent of erroneous doctrine, or a promulgator
of a purer creed. The lessons to be derived from the
study of her life do not lie in the direction thus indicated.
It is something else which we learn from her. It is, more-

R

242 Catharine of Siena.

over, a useful and a holy lesson. She may have seen
more or less dimly the truth concerning the dogmas
above mentioned ; but one truth she certainly saw
clearly ; and she held with all her heart and soul and
strength to that truth. She shrank from no toil nor pain
nor sacrifice in order that she might find and win Christ,
and be found in him, and that thus she might bring
blessing to man. Her philosophy was based upon a deep
humility, and a conviction of the weakness and sinfulness
of man. Yet she perceived and realized withal, — that
which many who talk loudly of progress and the perfecti-
bility of the human race do not see, — the beauty and worth
of every human soul, even in the midst of its utmost
ignorance or bondage to sin. She loved, she prayed, she
endured. She fought a good fight; and she fell, in the
heat of the battle, vanquished, and yet a conqueror.

During the few months of comparative repose which
Catharine had enjoyed at Siena, after her return from
Florence, she completed her work, "The Dialogue," and
wrote many letters to Italian politicians and ecclesiastics,
in order to fortify them in their attachment to the cause of
Urban VI. She corresponded also unremittingly with
Urban concerning the reform of the Church.

Eaymond's narrative continues : " The Sovereign Pontiff
Urban VI., who had become personally acquainted with
Catharine at Avignon, commanded me (in October, 1378)
to write to her, and beseech her to come to Rome, for he
desired her presence and support in the midst of the
troubles which surrounded him. I wrote to Catharine, who
replied to me thus : ' Father, several persons of Siena, and
many sisters of my order, think that I travel too much.

Called to Rome. 243

They are greatly scandalized by it, and say that a religious
ought not to be ever on the wing. I do not think that
these reproaches ought to trouble me, for I have never
ti-avelled except by the will of God, or that of the Sovereign
Pontiff, and for the salvation of souls ; but in order to
avoid giving any cause of offence to my neighbours, I had
resolved not to leave my home again. Nevertheless, if the
holy father desires that I should go to Rome, his will, and
not mine, must be done. In this case, will you be so good
as to intimate to me his will in a written document, signed
by himself, so that those who are offended at my travelling
about, may know that I do not undertake this journey of
my own initiative.' I communicated this reply to the
Sovereign Pontiff, who gave me an order for Catharine to
repair to Rome."

Catharine prepared for her departure without delay.
More than forty persons accompanied her. The number
would have been much greater had she not opposed the
wishes of many in this respect. Great nobles of Siena
besought her to suffer them to go with her on this,
which seemed to them destined to be a momentous
journey, to the capital of Christendom. Some few of
these nobles did accompany her, on foot, and in the garb
of poverty. Her mother, Alessia, Lysa, and Giovanna
di Capo, were among the women of the group. Catha-
rine invited these pilgrims to form an agreement to live
in great simplicity and poverty while in Rome, putting
their trust in divine providence. This she did, in order
the more effectually to rebuke the luxury of the times.
Catharine turned as she left her native city, and gazed

r2

244 Catharine of Siena.

long upon its loved walls and towers, the grassy slopes
falling from its ramparts, and the winding roads and paths
so familiar to her from childhood. Offering up a prayer for
the peace of her fellow-citizens, she turned her face towards
Eome. She never saw Siena again, for she died in Kome
one year and four months from that time. Perhaps she had
some dim presentiment of the moral and spiritual martyrdom
throng h which she was shortly to pass ; but her road was still
upward and onward. Like St. Paul, who thirteen centuries
before had entered Rome, also to suffer and to die there, she
" pressed forward toward the mark of the prize of her high
calling in Christ Jesus." Her thoughts seemed to dwell
much at that time on the career and martyrdom of the
great Apostle of the Gentiles. In a prayer written soon
after reaching Rome these words occur : " Eternal Father,
thou didst send thy apostles as lights into the world.
We are in greater need than ever before of such light;
raise up among us, we beseech thee, another Paul, to re-
buke and revive us, and bring us light." She constantly
spoke of the martyrs. In writing from Rome to Stephen,
who had not accompanied her, she says : " The blood of
the holy martyrs who so willingly gave their lives for him
who is the Life, witnesses against our coldness, and cries
to you and others to arise to the help of the holy
Church ; " and again, " I walk in paths bedewed with
the blood of the martyrs." She and her companions
reached Rome on the 28th October, 1378, shortly after
the election of the anti-Pope Clement VII. They took
up their abode in a house in the street of Santa Chiara.
Here Catharine established a simple rule of life for her

Address to the Consistory in Borne. 245

numerous family, in order that the residence in Rome
might prove useful to themselves and others. They had
neither gold nor silver ; but God provided for their few and
simple wants. They had all things in common, following
the example of the primitive Christians. She arranged
that the women should each in turn charge themselves
for one week with the task of providing for the necessities
of the household, while the rest devoted themselves to work
and to prayer. Alessia was placed in charge over all,

A few days after her arrival in Eome, Catharine re-
ceived a message from Pope Urban, desiring that she
would come to the Consistory, and speak before the as-
sembled cardinals on the subject of the Church, and in
particular on the Schism and the present troubles. She
obeyed. " She spoke learnedly and at some length, ex-
horting all to constancy and firmness." She thus con-
cluded : " God, — most reverend father, — is eternal wisdom
and strength, and we, if we desire to be invincible, must
put our confidence in him. What harm can come to him
who, in Christ, is clothed with the vesture of divine for-
titude 1 Whom do the blows of your enemies injure 1
Themselves only. Their arrows return upon their own
breasts. Arise, then ; be of good courage, father. Arise,
and be of good courage, ye also, pastors, who surround
the chief pastor. Enter into this conflict without fear. If
God is with you, who can be against you 1 Unite your-
selves with Christ, and fight, like men, for him

Yes, fight; but let your only weapons be repentance and
pmyer, virtue and love." When she had ceased speaking,
Urban appeared full of wonder. He gave a brief r^-umd
of her address, and then turned to the cardinals and said :

246 Cathanne of Siena.

"How deeply blamable are we, brethren, when we give
way to hesitation and fear. This poor humble woman
confounds us. I call her poor and humble, not in con-
tempt, but in allusion to the weakness of her sex.^ It
would be natural that she should be timid, even though
we were of good heart ; and see, whereas we are fearful,
she is tranquil and fearless, and encourages us with her
noble words. Does she not put us all to shame 1 " Then
after a pause he added, with ardour and a radiant coun-
tenance, "What should Christ's Vicar fear, though the
whole world were against him 1 Christ the Omnipotent
is stronger than the world. He can never forsake his
Church."

The Schismatics did wisely to choose Hobert of Geneva
as their leader. He was " the man of the Schism." He
was related to several of the most powerful princely
families in Europe. He was young, enterprising, and
ambitious. He had not completed his thirty-sixth year
Avhen he was elected as Clement VH. He was, never-
theless, an experienced soldier, and well versed in all the
intrigues of courts and factions. The wholesale massacre
of the inhabitants of Cesena illustrated his indomitable
will in the performance of whatever he had resolved upon.
He feared not God, neither regarded man. He said
openly, " Assuredly, I would not serve God if I did not
find it profitable." 2 He was tall of stature, powerfully
built, and very handsome ; his manners were graceful

^ " Questa doimicciiiola ci confoiide ; donnicciuola dico, now per
dispregio, ma per espressioiie della naturale frugilita niuliebre. —
Raymond, Vita di S. Catariiia, Italian Version.

* "Certe non servireiu Deo, si non faceret mihi bonum." —
RiNALDi, ii , 30.

The Gi-eat Schism. 247

and courtly, his appearance in public was commanding, and
his dress always magnificent. He was lavish in expenditure,
and by the prof useness of his gifts and bribes, he won many
to his side. He was eloquent and self-possessed, and
unscrupulous in the use of every art by which men win
popularity.

Germany, Bohemia, Hungary, England, and almost the
whole of Italy held to Urban ; France, Spain, and Savoy
were on the side of Clement. The English clergy gave as
their reason for adhering to Urban that "a report had
reached England that Clement was a man of blood." Queen
Joanna of Naples had at first sent ambassadors to Urban
to congratulate him on his election. She had replied to the
earnest letters which Catharine had written to her from
Siena, " the words of a saint will certainly not be lost upon
me." But, under the influence of personal and political
motives, she soon after declared herself openly on the side
of Clement, The Clementines also had a footing in Rome
itself. The strong castle of St. Angelo, which dominated
the approaches to the Vatican, was commanded by a French
ally of Clement, the Captain Rostagno. "There now began
to be witnessed," says Muratori, "a series of monstrous
scandals in the Cluirch. Urban excommunicated Clement
and his cardinals, while Clement, on his part, excommunicated
Urban and his followers. The same benefices were bestowed
on different persons by the rival popes, and each appointed
his own bishop to every see which became vacant. Hence
arose numberless private and public conflicts, strifes, and
murders. The nobles espoused the side of one or the
other as it best served their own interests. . . . Many of
the adherents of Urban were arrested, executed, or

248 Catharine of Siena.

banished by the Clementines, and similar injustices and
outrages were perpetrated on the other side." Clement,
however, possessed great resources, and was able to buy
many adherents to his side, and to collect a large army of
Bretons and Gascons; while Urban, among the ruins of
Rome, found himself impoverished on all sides. He was
obliged to make great sacrifices to procure the necessary
resources for defence. He himself lived almost in poverty.
He could not inhabit the Vatican, owing to its proximity to
the castle of St. Angelo. He counselled the cardinals to
give up every superfluity, in order to be able to contribute
to the defence of the Church. On the advice of Catharine,
he appointed a commission to negotiate the sale of a part of
the domains of the Church ; and the gold and silver
chalices, crosses, and candelabra of the churches were changed
into money.^ "The Church," said Catharine, "has no need
of perfumes, of incense, or of precious stones and gold.
She needs courage and faith." In the same spirit she
wrote to Urban concerning the reform of the Church (for
she addressed several letters to him while in Rome, where
he also was) : " I desire not that you should pause to direct
your attention to the subject of vestments, and considera-
tions of more or less importance of this nature ; but that
you should at once seek men who will act uprightly, and
not with falseness or reserves ; men who are above being
seduced by flatteries or gold, and who will oppose vice
and encourage virtue."

Catharine judged that the most necessary thing to be
done for the healing of this hateful division was to win

1 Rinaldi, Anno 1380, N, 17.

Joanna, Queen of Naples. 249

France and Naples to the cause of Urban ; for without the
support of these kingdoms the Schism could not continue.
She constantly expressed her conviction to Urban that it
was not Clement and his cardinals to whom attention should
be directed, but rather to France and Naples. The vicinity
of the kingdom of Naples to Rome would constantly en-
danger the peace and security of the Church, through the
infection of the spirit of rebellion ; whereas the alliance of
that kingdom would be the greatest support to the Pope.
Catharine, therefore, applied all her energies to convince the
conscience and win the heart of Joanna of Naples, and of
Charles V. of France. Her correspondence with the former
had created in her heart a strong desire to see that unhappy
woman face to face. Not only did she desire to gain her
as an adherent to Urban, but far more, it seems, did she
wish to win that poor soul to Christ. Her letters to
Joanna are numerous and long, and full of the most passion-
ate and tender pleadings and warnings which one woman
could address to another on matters vital to her present
and eternal interests. Joanna was then more than fifty
years of age; she still possessed great beauty and personal
ascendency.^ Her life had been an unhappy one. She had
been crowned queen at the age of nineteen ; she had had
four husbands ; but she had no child to succeed her. Her
first husband was the young Andrea, brother of Ludwig,
King of Hungary. The horrible tragedy of his death,
occurring a short time after the marriage, created a great

1 An old chronicle of Bologna Bays that Queen Joanna was a
woman of great spirit and adventure, and that she could leap upon
the back of a horse when it was in full gallop, and command it per-
fectly.

250 Catharine of Siena.

sensation in Europe. The Court had gone for the summer
to Aversa. At midnight, September 18th, 1345, two mes-
sengers entered in haste the bedchamber of the queen and
the prince, on the pretext that a revolution had broken
out in Naples, which required the immediate return of
Andrea. The young prince arose in haste and followed
the messengers, who strangled him in a gallery of the castle,
and then threw his body from a window into the garden.
It was supposed at first by those who found the corpse that
he had accidentally fallen from the window, while wander-
ing through the castle in the dark. But the indifference of
the queen, who remained alone in her chamber till the
morning, and the known fact of an intrigue and suspicion
of a secret alliance she had already formed witli Prince
Louis of Taranto, whom she afterwards married, were suffi-
cient to convince most persons that she had connived at, if
not instigated, the horrible deed. The Neapolitans received
her coldly ; Ludwig, King of Hungary, denounced her
openly ; and her whole future life was a continual but un-
availing attempt at flight from the pursuit of this haunting-
shadow, the dark deed of her youth. Like our Mary Queen
of Scots, she had, among historians, on one side ardent de-
fenders and admirers, and on she other, severe judges and
bitter enemies. Her third husband was the Infanta of Spain,
who separated himself from her, and her fourth was Otho,
Duke of Brunswick, who survived her. It was during
lier unpopularity in consequence of the suspicions at
taching to her in connection with Andrea's death, that
she fled to Provence, where, finding herself in great need
of resources, she sold her large domains in that country
to the Popes of Avignon. Joanna appears not to have

Joanna, Queen of Naples. 251

been unmoved by the ardent appeals of Catharine. Her
heart was ill at ease, and there had been no peace for her in
life since the tragedy cf her youth. Catharine wrote to her
again and again, dictating her letters on her knees, with
strong crying and supplication to G-od for her unhappy
sister. These letters spoke of pardon and perfect cleansing,
of infinite love and holy peace. They were found, at the
time of the collection of Catharine's letters, carefully sealed,
and with evidence of having been much read. We are,
however, left in the dark as to whether Queen Joanna ever
opened her heart to the truths of which Catharine wrote,
or whether she retained any memory of her words of love
and hope, to console her in her own last dark hours. She
died two years after Catharine's death. Charles Durazzo,
cousin of the murdered Andrea, and nephew of Ludwig,
King of Hungary, was the next heir to the kingdom of
Naples ; but Joanna, afraid and jealous of the influence of
that family, nominated as her successor, Louis, Duke of
Anjou, of the royal family of France. Charles Durazzo,
on receiving intelligence of this, set out from Hungary
with a numerous army, and marched to Naples to defend
his right of succession. After many manoeuvres on both
sides, a collision took place, in which Charles defeated
the troops of the queen, and took her prisoner. She
was imprisoned in the castle of San Felice, where she
lingered many months. A few weeks before her death
she sent to her friends and defenders the message, " think
no more of me, except to make preparation for my
funeral, and to pray for my soul." Charles Durazzo, hear-
ing of the approach by sea of the Duke of Anjou with an
army to release the queen, deemed it expedient to place

252 Catharine of Siena.

that unhappy lady beyond all possibility of recovering her
crown, and sent an assassin to the castle, who strangled
Queen Joanna with a silken sash, thus causing her to die
the death of Andrea.

But to return : Catharine had directed all her energies to
win and confirm, in the first place, all the Italian powers
who were wavering in their allegiance to Urban. Her
reputation for saintliness and for singleness of purpose, and
the love which the Italians generally bore for her, gave her
great power in persuasion with her own countrymen. By
her efforts mainly, the fidelity of Siena, Florence, Perugia,
Bologna, and Venice was assured. The ambassadors, sent
from these and other cities to congratulate Urban on his
election, had not, for the most part, taken home a good
report of their reception, or of the courtesy of the Pontiff.
"How is it that the Pope makes so many enemies V it was
asked. " It is not what he does," one ambassador replied,
"but his manner of doing it, which gives offence." Mala-
volti, the father of the chronicler of Siena, was one of the
ambassadors appointed by that city to congratulate Urban.
The chronicler says that the stiflfness and asperity which
the Pontiff" showed to his father and the other Sienese am-
bassadors " were intolerable, the more so because Urban
was not of high birth, and had been elevated to the
Papacy beyond his utmost hopes, and in spite of his
sour and difficult temper." All the gracious kindness
and unconquerable energy of Catharine, consequently
only availed to ward off during the brief period of her
own life the consequences of Urban's unchristian and
unchastened temper. After her death he was continually
at cross-purposes with those around him, and by his

The Princess of Sweden. 253

rude disposition contrived to estrange even his sincerest par-
tisans. Yet his judgment of the state of the Church and the
world in his day, was courageous and truthful. He was also
stern with himself, if he was so with others ; and his desire
for the reformation of morals was strong and sincere.

Catharine, Princess of Sweden, daughter of the St.
Bridget, the widowed Queen of Sweden, already men-
tioned, happened to be residing in Rome at this time.
She bore a high reputation for wisdom and piety, and
was beatified in the year 1398 by Boniface IX. Urban
had perceived the strong yearning of heart which Catha-
rine of Siena had to bring Queen Joanna to repen-
tance and faith in Christ, as well as to win the support
of the kingdom of Naples for himself. He conceived
therefore the design of sending her, together with
Catharine of Sweden, to the Court of Naples, on a mis-
sion both public and personal. Raymond says : " Our
Catharine did not shrink from the charge it was intended
to impose on her, and offered to go without delay ; but
the Princess of Sweden did not like to undertake the
voyage, and refused in my very presence the mission
that was proposed to her." "Our Catharine" paid a
visit to the Swedish princess, in her humble retreat in
the little monastery of the Clarissas in Rome. The
first part of their interview was of a diplomatic nature.
Catharine of Siena, full of zeal and courage, did not
imagine that a woman of the race of the stem North
could hesitate to obey the wish of the Pontiff, and be-
come an ambassador to a Court with which she was
already acquainted. But the Swedish princess hesitated,
and after a short discussion of the proposed embassy, she

254 Catharine of Siena.

began to speak of the experience which her longer life had
given her (she was fifteen years older than Catharine), and
of her knowledge of men. She recounted how she had
been twice to Naples, to gather up there remembrances of
her sainted mother ; she spoke of the worldliness of the
Neapolitan Court, and endeavoured to impress upon Catha-
rine how fruitless such an embassy as that proposed by Urban
was likely to be. The Swedish princess had had the repu-
tation of extraordinary beauty, and she still retained much
of the freshness of youth, with a most attractive grace of
person and manner. She entertained Catharine with the
story of her life, to which the Sienese, always ready and
hoping for instruction from the lips of a fellow-Christian,
listened attentively. " My royal mother, St. Bridget," the
princess began, " was, as you know, left a widow, and went
on a pilgrimage to Rome. I felt, from my earliest years, a
great desire springing up in me to follow her manner of
life, and to rejoin her at the tombs of the Apostles. Many
obstacles, however, presented themselves. The greatest
of all was the ardent love of Prince Edgar, to whom I
had been affianced. For his sake I remained at home
for some time ; but seeing my heart set upon another
kind of life, Prince Edgar at last consented to give me
up, and to let me go to Rome. In March, 1350, he him-
self accompanied me to the vessel, and confided me to
the care of the venerable Marechal Gustave Thunasson.
In August we arrived in Rome. For eight days I
sought my mother in vain. Every day I went to St.
Peter's, hoping to find her among the crowd of pilgrims.
How great was my joy at last, when I felt her tender
arms around me, and her kiss on my cheek ! She had

The Princess of Sweden. 255

retTirned from Bologna, where she had been engaged in the
reform of monasteries. . . . You can form no idea,"
continued the princess, " of the terrible state of Rome at
that time. The licentiousness and brutality of manners
were so great that my mother was obliged to hide me ; and
we could not even visit the sanctuary and temples without
being attended by an imposing escort. I was then twenty
years of age. All the great lords of Rome desired my hand
in marriage. I did not know how to escape them. In vain
I assured them that I had vowed to live a virgin ; this did
not satisfy them. Some, blinded by passion, even en-
deavoured to carry me off by violence, having failed to win
me by promises and flatteries.^ One day I accompanied
some pious women to the tomb of St. Sebastian in the
Catacombs. A young noble who had aspired to my hand,
had concealed himself with his followers among the vines
near the entrance, with the intention of carrying me off
when we reappeared. But just at the moment when we
were about to appear, a stag darted out of the thicket near
them ; they followed it a little way, and meanwhile we had
passed, and were safely entering the city.2 My mother had
had a presentiment of the danger and the deliverance I had
met with, and when I returned to the house she met me
with the words, ' Blessed be the stag which has saved my

1 " Uncle multi magnates cupiebant earn matrimonialiter sibi
copulari. Ipsi vero cieco amore capti, quod proniissioiiibus et
blanditiis non poterant, minis et violentiis extorquere moliuntur." —
Life of Catharine of Sweden, at the end of the lievelations of 8t.
Bridf/et, printed in Rome, 1550, cap. viii.

2 Catholic art always represents St. Catharine of Sweden with a
stag by her side.

256 Catharine of Siena.

child from the beast of prey ! ' " The princess then pro-
ceeded to tell Catharine of adventures she had gone
through on a journey to Assisi to visit the Portiuncula
of St. Francis; there they fell among brigands, and she
recounted the means taken by her mother to save her, her
beautiful daughter, from the brutality of these licentious
men ; again, how, on returning to Rome, and being of a
more mature age, she was permitted to nurse the sick in
the hospitals ; and how she founded, near her mother's
house, a hospital especially devoted to pilgrims from Swe-
den and the north of Europe ; how, when her mother died,
she bore her corpse to the sepulchre of her ancestors at
Wastena ; and how she afterwards visited Naples, there to
gather up all the recollections of her mother's missions and
teaching which the Neapolitans had cherished. Finally,
after enlarging on the disorders and dangers she had found
in Naples, and on its present unhappy condition, she con-
cluded by declaring, " Ah no ! I can never return to Naples.
God ever protected me while there ; but, though I do not
doubt his power, I dare not tempt his merciful providence.
Our journey there would be useless for them, and danger-
ous, perhaps even fatal, for us."

The Swedish princess ceased, and Catharine of Siena,
who had all along been silent, continued to be so. She was
sitting on the ground, and two large tears rolled down her
face and fell upon her hands. What were the thoughts of
our Catharine at that moment ? The story does not tell
us. But as we contemplate these two, the stern and
simple Sienese full of thoughts of noble and useful enter-
prise, and the beautiful high-born lady pleasantly prat-
tling of the romance of her own past life, the wondrous

7'he Princess of Sweden. 257

beauty of her youth, and her many suitors, we are con-
strained to acknowledge that there are in the Roman
Calendars saints of widely different degrees of self-for-
getfulness and magnanimity.

After some minutes of silence, Father Raymond, who was
present, said to the Swedish princess: "Venerable sister, we
have all confidence in your experience, and I will take care
to report to the Sovereign Pontiff what I have now heard."
And they separated. Raymond continues the narrative :
" I acknowledge that, through imperfection of judgment
and want of faith, I myself did not approve the project of
the Sovereign Pontiff. I thought that the reputation of
women consecrated to God is so precious, that we ought to
beware of tarnishing it by the least appearance of evil, or
breath of suspicion. The Queen of Naples might, I thought,
follow the counsels of certain agents of Satan by whom
she was surrounded, and cause these two good women to
be insulted, or forbid them an entrance into Naples. I
went therefore the same afternoon to Pope Urban, in one
of the halls of the Palace of the Lateran, and laid before
him my views on the subject. The Sovereign Pontiff
looked disconcerted ; he remained a long time in reflection,
with his head leaning upon his hands. At last he looked
up, and said : * Your opinion deserves weight. It is more
prudent for them not to go.' Although the evening was
far advanced I went to Catharine to communicate to her
the decision of the Pontiff." Catharine was at that time
suffering from great exhaustion, and had cast herself on
her face across her couch, when Raymond entered to report
his interview with Urban. He detailed to her the con-
versation, anticipating a sense of relief for her in being

S

258 Catharine of Siena.

acquitted from so serious an obligation. But he had not yet
fully comprehended the character of his friend. She rose
from her bed and stood up. Tears were in her eyes, and
she said to him, with resolution, almost with fierceness of
voice and manner : " If Agnes, Margaret, and a multitude
of other holy women had indulged in such fancies, and
reasoned in this fashion, they never would have won the
crown of martyrdom ! Think you not that we have a Spouse
who is stronger than men, who can save us from the hands of
the wicked, and preserve our honour in the midst of a whole
throng of debauches ? All these objections of which you
have spoken are foolish and vain. They spring from a miser-
able want of faith, and not from genuine pnidence." Kay-
mond found no words with which to reply, and remained
humbly silent and rebuked. He says, "I blushed inwardly
because I was still so far from her lofty standard ; and in
my heart I admired and wondered at her constancy and
faith. But as the Sovereign Pontiff had decided that she
should not go, I did not dare to re-open the subject."

Being thus thwarted in her earnest desire to speak face
to face with Queen Joanna, who was at this moment, in the
opinion of all, the greatest supporter of the Schism and
hindrance to the peace of the Church in Italy, Catharine
determined to send to her an ambassador chosen by her-
self, with further despatches, which this ambassador should
beg to be allowed to read to Joanna. She selected Neri
di Landoccio, a man of engaging presence and accustomed
to deal with men, who was now experienced in working
for his beloved leader, and had entered deeply into all
her feelings and wishes on this subject. Neri proceeded
upon his mission. Though the earnest messages he carried

Raymond is appointed to go to France. 259

from Catharine, and his own persuasions failed to alter the
course which Joanna had entered upon, his presence in
Naples contributed to retain the majority of the people
in their allegiance to Urban. Of this, more hereafter.
Catharine wrote at the same time to several honourable
ladies of the Court of Naples whom she hoped might
have some influence with Joanna. All these despatches
are found in the collection of her letters.

Urban now conferred with Catharine concerning the
best means to be taken to avert the calamity of a public
declaration on the part of the King of France in favour
of Clement, and shortly decided to send Father Raymond
as his nuncio to the French Court. " It appeared advan-
tageous to the Sovereign Pontiff," continues Raymond,
" to send me into France, because he had been informed
that it would be possible to detach the King of France,
Charles V., from the Schism, The moment 1 became
aware of this project, I went to take counsel with
Catharine. Notwithstanding the regret that my absence
would occasion her, she advised me to obey the wishes of
the Pontiff without delay. 'Hold it for certain, father,'
she said, ' that he is the truly-elected Vicar of Christ ; I
desire that you should endure every risk and fatigue to
sustain him, as you would for the Catholic faith itself.'
I had never entertained any doubt on this subject myself,
but this saying of Catharine so encouraged me to com-
bat the Schism, that I consecrated myself from that
moment to the work ; and I continually recalled it to
my mind, in order to fortify myself in the midst of my
difficulties and trials. Some days previous to my de-
parture she called me to her, to converse with me con-

s 2

260 Catharine of Siena.

cerning the consolations and revelations she had received
from God ; she allowed no other persons to be present or
to join at that time in our conversation. After an hour of
converse, she then said to me, ' Now go whither God calls
you. I think that in this life we shall never again dis-
course together as we have just now done.' Her prediction
was accomplished. I departed, and she remained. Before
my return she had gone to her heavenly home, and I had
no more the blessing of listening to her lessons of holiness."
Catharine accompanied her friend to Ostia, where he was
to embark ; and there, where St. Augustine received the
parting words of his mother, Monica, Raymond spoke his
last adieu to her to whom he owed, under God, his own
spiritual life. " It was for this reason, probably," continues
Raymond, " that thinking she should see me no more on
earth, she accompanied me to the place where I was to
embark, wishing to bid me a last farewell. When we were
about to set sail, she kneeled down on the shore, and after
praying, made over us the sacred sign of the cross. Tears
filled her eyes, and she gazed after us in silence ; but her
countenance seemed to say : ' Go, my son, in safety, and
in the name and under the protection of that blessed sign;
but in this life thou shalt never again see her who blesses
thee.' " Catharine remained long kneeling on the shore,
her eyes fixed on the vessel till it became a mere speck
on the horizon, the vessel which contained, she said, that
" rarest treasure with which God has gifted our earth, the
heart of an apostle."

Catharine, as we have seen, had continually urged
Urban to seek out and to surround himself with good
men, and wise and honest counsellors. He appears to

Invitations to the Servants of God. 261

have fully recognized the need he had of such men, in order
to give effect to his designs for the reform of the Church.
Catharine seems to have had great faith in what might be
accomplished by the united action of true men of God, and
spoke to Urban of the advantage it would be to call to
Rome without delay all the best men of the Church
throughout Italy. This idea appears to have existed in
her mind apart from her partisanship for Urban. She had
hoped to find in him the fearless reformer which the times
called for. He had very imperfectly answered to these
hopes; but he was a sincere lover of good and virtuous men,
and in nothing did he more readily respond to Catharine's
counsels than in respect to this matter. He joyfully
assented to her proposition to form an association or com-
munity of men pre-eminent for purity of life, strength of
faith, and tried virtue. This community would, it was
hoped, act as a leaven, permeating gradually the whole of
the Church, while by its united force in active effort it
would stem and turn back the tide of immorality till now
unchecked. On the 13th December Urban granted to
Catharine a Brief empowering her to invite to Rome, in his
name, whomsoever she desired or considered it useful to ask.
She wrote without delay to the friends she had won in the
course of her labours throughout Italy, whom she believed
would be most able and willing to come to the rescue of
the divided Church in its time of need. She met, it would
appear, with an unexpected amount of difficulty in the case
of some whose help and presence she most desired — those
recluses whose saintly character, learning, and maturity of
judgment would, she believed, have rendered them a strong
support to the Pontiff in his efforts for reform. Some of

262 Catharine of Siena.

these replied that they did not feel it right to leave the
solitude in which God had placed them, that they feared
the influence of the moral atmosphere of Rome on their
own souls, and that they believed they could best serve the
Church by their prayers offered up in silence and solitude.
Friar William of England and Friar Anthony of Nice were
among the recalcitrants. It will be remembei'ed that these
two Friars inhabited the pleasant convent of Lecceto, a few
miles from Siena. Catharine had often had pleasant and
u.seful intercourse with them, while sitting in the shade of
the woods which surrounded the convent, and Friar William
more especially had there testified to her his sorrow for the
troubles of Italy, and formed with her many projects for
the purification of the Church and the reformation of
morals. Two days after receiving the pontifical Brief, she
addressed to Friars William and Anthony the following
letter : " My dear sons in Jesus Christ, I, Catharine, the
servant of his servants, write to you with the desire of see-
ing you forgetting yourselves, seeking your only rest and
peace in Jesus crucified, and hungering for the honour of
God, for the salvation of souls, and the reformation of the
holy Church. We see the Church at this day in such neces-
sity, that, to succour her, it is necessary to quit our solitudes
and give ourselves up to her service. For if we wish sin-
cerely to do any good, we must not pause and say, 'I shall
not find peace in doing this or that.' God has given us a
good Pastor (Urban VL), who loves the servants of God,
and gathers them around him. He is applying himself to
combat vice and encourage virtue. He is not influenced
by the fear of human judgment, and is acting as a just
and courageous man. We ought to hasten to his aid, and

She admonishes the Recluses. 263

thus prove that we have really at heart the reformation
of the Church. If you have this desire, brothers, you
will obey the will of God and of his Vicar ; you will bid
farewell to your solitude, and hasten to the field of
battle. I entreat you, then, for the love of Jesus, to
respond promptly and without hesitation to the request
of the holy father. Do not be afraid of leaving your
retreat. If you want woods, there are woods and retreats
here also. Courage, then, dearly-loved sons ; do not
sleep. It is time that we should awake out of sleep. I
will say no more. I commend you to the holy benediction
of God. — Rome, December 15, 1378."

Friars William and Anthony appear to have had some
little difference between themselves, arising out of the con-
templation of the proposed journey to Rome. Catharine
writes to William : " We ought not — if we do indeed love
our neighbour, and care for men's souls — to think too much
of our own spiritual consolations. We should give ear to
the complaints and wishes of our neighbour, and especially
be compassionate towards those who are bound with us in
the same bonds of charity. If you fail to do this, you are
greatly in fault. Yes, I wish that you should pity the
troubles, and have regard to the wishes of our brother
Anthony. I desire that you should not refuse to hear him,
and I wish also and demand that he should listen to you. I
conjure you, for Christ's sake and for mine, act thus, for
thus you will maintain true charity. If you fail to do so,
you will sow seeds of discord. I conclude, beseeching you
to be as branches closely united with the true Vine, and
transformed into the image of Christ crucified."

She wrote to three friars of Spoleto — Friars Andrea,

264 Caiharine of Siena.

Paolo, and Lando, who willingly and with ardour obeyed
the injunction of the Pontiff, and came to Rome. Another
of her letters, conveying the sama invitation, was ad-
dressed to Dom Bartolommeo dei Serafini, the prior of
the monastery of Gorgon Island, to whose monks she had
preached. He, and Father Matthew of the Misericordia
of Siena, whom she had cured of his sickness, and many
other good men, also responded to the invitation. She
wrote to John of the Cell, who lost no time in leaving the
delightful shades of Vallombrosa to hasten to Rome. The
following is a portion of the letter she addressed to him :
"Shall we be found asleep at the moment when our enemies
are at the gate 1 No ! A great need is calling us, a great
want is urging us, and love ought to wake us up. Have
greater misfortunes ever befallen the Church than those
which we see to-day 1 We ought to hasten to the support
of the holy father, who is surrounded with so many trou-
bles ; the more so as he invites with humility and kindness
the help of the servants of God. He wishes to have such
always about him. Reply, then, promptly to the Sovereign
Pontiff, Urban VI. I conjure, you by the love of Jesus to
fulfil without hesitation the will of God in this matter.
You will now prove by the course you elect whether you
truly love God and desire the reformation of the Church, or
whether you are chiefly devoted to your own consolations.
1 am convinced that if your self-love has been thoroughly
consumed in the furnace of charitj', you will not hesitate
to abandon your cell ; you will be content to inhabit the
cell of self-knowledge, and be ready to give your life, if
need be, for the truth. This is the moment for the servants
of God to proclaim boldly the truth, and to suffer for it."

The Hermit Saint. 265

She also wrote to her old friend, who, at the time of her
first acquaintance with him, was inhabiting a cave in a rock
near Siena, and living the life of a hermit. He was never
called by any other name than that of " the Saint." " He
had led," says Raymond, "during more than thirty years a
solitary life. He found, in his old age, the precious pearl
of the gospel, in becoming acquainted with Catharine. For
her, he quitted his peaceful cell and his accustomed manner
of living, in order to labour, not for his own soul only, but
fw the good of others. He affirmed that he thus found greater
peace of mind and more profit to his soul than he had ever
enjoyed in his solitude. Above all, he made great progress
in patience. He suffered much from a disease of the heart,
and Catharine taught him to support his continual anguish,
not only with resignation, but with joy. He related to me
several circumstances which transpired during my absence
from Rome, and a short time after her death he went also to
join her in the celestial mansions."

The two friars of Lecceto having continued to express
a great unwillingness to leave their retreat, she wrote to
Anthony as follows : " My very dear son in Jesus Christ,
I, Catharine, the servant of his servants, write to you in
the strong desire to see you fully established upon that
living rock, the holy Jesus, in such wise that the building
which you raise may not be shaken by winds and storms.
. . . This is a sifting time, one which shows us who are the
true servants of God, and who are the self-seekers who love
God only because of the consolation brought to their own
souls. Such persons look around them and pronounce
where spiritual comfort and consolation are to be found,
and where they are not to be found ; they seem to imagine

266 Catharine of Siena.

that God is in this place, and not in that. It is not as they
imagine ; for I perceive that, to the true servant of God, all
places and all times are acceptable. When the time comes
for him to leave his spiritual enjoyments, and undertake
labour and fatigues for God, the true servant does not
hesitate ; when the time comes for him to bid farewell to
his solitude, he does it, like the glorious St. Anthony, who
of a truth dearly loved solitude, but who left it in order to
fortify his fellow Christians. Many other saints have done
the same. The rule of the true saints has always been to
come forward in times of necessity and misfortune ; but not
in times of prosperity, for they fly such times. There is
certainly no occasion to fly now, in the fear that too much
prosperity would cause our hearts to be carried away with
vain-glory and pride ; no one can find anything wherein to
glory just-now except sufferings. It seems to me that we are
wanting in light when we allow ourselves to be blinded to
duty by the love of spiritual consolations : our motives may
be good, but the eternal God alone can give us true and per-
fect light. It seems, by the letter which Friar William has
sent me, that neither he nor you are minded to come to
Rome. I do not wish to reply to his letter, but I mourn
from my heart over his simplicity, for he seeks little either
the honour of God or the good of his neighbour. If through
humility and the fear of losing peace of soul, he really fears
to come, he ought to testify that humility by asking the
Sovereign Pontiff to excuse him, and to allow him to re-
main in his solitude .... It appears, according to what he
writes to me, that two servants of God among j'ou have
had a revelation made to them, by which they are taught
that the Vicar of Christ and the person who counselled

Letter to Fiiar Anthony of Nice. 267

him on this matter, (she alludes here to herself) have followed
a human and not a divine impulse, and that it is the devil
and not God who is trying to draw these servants of Christ
away from their settled peace and consolation. It is
asserted that if you come here you will lose the habit of
devotion, and that you could no longer give yourselves up
to prayer. You must be very slightly established in
devotion if a change of residence would cause you to lose
the habit of prayer. It seems that God takes account of
places then, and he is only to be found in woods and
solitudes, even in times of public necessity ! Go to ! we
began by declaring that we desired the reformation of the
Church, and that foul weeds should be rooted out, and
sweet flowers (which are the servants of God) should be
planted in her : and now we pretend that to call these
ser\'ants out of their peaceful solitudes in order that they
•may save the bark of St. Peter from shipwreck, is an error
inspired by the devil. It would be well that each man should
speak for himself alone, and not for other servants of God.
Friar Andrea of Lucca and Friar Paolo have not acted in
this fashion. These great servants of God are aged and in
weak health ; yet they have not made that an excuse for
seeking repose, but started at once for Rome, in spite of the
fatigue and difficulties of the journey. They obeyed, and
have arrived, and although they would wish exceedingly to
return to their cells, they do not attempt to shake off this
obligation, but have willingly given up all the consolations
of solitude. They have come, not to command, but to be
made perfect through suffering, in the midst of troubles,
tears, watchings, and continual prayers. This is the right
course. Let us say no more about it ! May God in his

268 Catharine of Siena.

mercy purify us, and give us light, that we may not walk
among shadows, I conjure you, the Bachelor, and the
others to pray for me, that I may be guided in the path of
humility. Dwell ever in the remembrance of God."

I have given these letters at length becaiise of the in-
terest which attaches to the views expressed in them by
Catharine of the monastic life, a life held by her, in common
with all mediaeval Christians, to be a holy life, if subor-
dinated to the highest uses, but, as it appeared to her, a life
to be abandoned, at the call of God, for an active and still
holier life.

The writer of the above letter we see to be the same who
in her childhood made a brief trial of the life of the Fathers
of the Desert, and was drawn away from it by the strong
voice of affection within her, and the consciousness that there
were those outside who thought of her, and needed her, and
who would mourn her absence. She was grieved when she
found that some of her friends did not fly to meet the call
of duty and affection as quickly as she had done, when, after
the day spent in the cave, she sped over the hills and
through the city gates of Siena, to rejoin her parents, and
brothers, and sisters. The following passage from the
" Dialogue," ^ on the subject of prayer is dictated in the
same spirit as the rebuke to the friars of Lecceto : " Perfect
prayer, then, consists not in the multitude of words, but in
the strength of the desire which raises the soul towards
God. . . . Every Christian ought to contribute towards the
salvation of souls, according as he is inspired by a holy desire.
Everything which is said and done for the salvation of men

1 Dialogue, IxvL, p. 168.

Selfish Chmtians. 269

is a continual prayer, but a prayer which does not exempt
us from the use of mental and vocal prayer at certain times.
All that is done for the love of God and of our neighbour,
all, it may be added, which is done for ourselves also, with
a just and right aim, may be called prayer, for those never
cease to pray who never cease to do good. Love for our
fellow-creatures is a constant prayer; but this very love will
always incite us to actual prayer at stated seasons, and for
prescribed times, and even far beyond those prescribed
times, if the salvation of a soul, or any emergency in which
we find ourselves demands it."

. There are Christians enough assuredly, in our own days,
to whom such arguments as Catharine used to the friars
might be very suitably addressed ; Christians in whose
hearts lies a deep, though it may be an unconscious and un-
confessed selfishness. Their ears are dull to the daily cry
of the needy and the oppressed, they do not hear the earnest
call to join with God's advanced guard in the battle against
vice and oppression and diabolic cruelty. The sacred seclu-
sion of their homes is so sweet. They love so much their
own secure and safe " retreat." And well it is they do so.
Our secure and virtuous homes are the strength of the
nation. It is well too that they should cherish their religi-
ous privileges, and seek to maintain spiritual peace and con-
solation in the uninterrupted enjoyment of those privileges.
Yet a time will come when the possessors of these priceless
treasures will have to give an account of their stewardship
of such wealth. For an exceeding bitter cry is arising from
creatures standing outside our doors, God's redeemed ones
also, who have neither home nor hope on earth. Their cry
rebukes our ease and our enjoyment, and our greediness of

270 Catharine of Siena.

our religious privileges. It seems at times prophetic of woe
to those who dare to answer it with pious sophistries.

Friar Anthony was not long in arriving in Rome. It is
not clear whether Friar William ever did so. He died in the
same year as Catharine, about fifteen months after this time.
He was not idle, however, in the service of the Church.
Baluze says that at Catharine's suggestion he wrote several
letters to his countrymen the King of England and the
Archbishop of Canterbury to secure their allegiance to
Urban VL, and in this he was not unsuccessful. ^

Among the most eloquent of Catharine's letters is one
which she wrote at this time to Ludwig, King of Hungary.
He was a faithful adherent of the Roman Pontiff, and had
been invested with the title of " Gonfalonier of the Church."
Her letter to him is full of powerful pleading, her aim
being to prove the validity of Urban's election, and to urge
the King of Hungary to recognize the need of a reformation
in the Church, and to give his support to those who were
promoting that reformation. She wrote also to Charles
Durazzo and other princes, in the same manner and with
the same ends in view.

We must follow Father Raymond a little way in his
northern mission. He had scarcely left Rome before the
Clementines made preparations to embarrass his move-
ments and prevent the success of his embassy. They
could not afford to allow the words of so ardent a disciple
of Catharine and upholder of Urban to reach the ears of the
King of France. Charles V. was now wavering as to the
side he should espouse, and the arguments of Raymond

i Baluze, '• Vit« Pup. Aveuiou," T. i., Col. 1085.

Raymond fails to reach France. ' 271

might deprive the schismatics of the support of France,
without which they could not have continued to assert their
existence. They promptly took steps, therefore, to prevent
the nuncio from landing at Marseilles. Raymond continues
the narrative of what took place after his parting from
Catharine. '" Although the sea was infested by pirates, we
arrived happily at Pisa, and had an equally prosperous
voyage to Genoa, notwithstanding the numerous galleys of
schismatics pursuing their way to Avignon. We journeyed
by land from Genoa, and got as far as Ventimiglia. Here
a monk of my Order, who was a native of that place, sent
me a letter, in which he said, 'Beware of passing Venti-
miglia, for treachery is prepared for you, from which, if you
fall into the snare, no human aid can save you.' On this
warning, having taken counsel with the companion whom
the Sovereign PontiiF had appointed me, I returned to
Genoa. Here I remained, by the order of the Pope, preach-
ing a crusade against the schismatics." A second time,
however, Raymond essayed to cross the frontier into France,
and appears to have been this time forcibly prevented.
On hearing of his having turned back the first time
from Ventimiglia, Catharine wrote to him with some
severity. She tells him that she could not have believed
a full-grown man in Christ could act so. "Bad, dear
father," she writes : " I thought you had cut your teeth,
so that you could eat strong meat; but I see you are
still a babe, only able to drink milk," She tells him
he ought to have gone on, trusting in God, who was
able to have delivered him out of the hands of assassins ;
that, if he could not travel openly as a papal nuncio,
he ought to have walked barefoot over the mountains,

272 CatJmrine of Siena.

disguised as a pilgrim, and begging his way, until he arrived
in the presence of the King of France. She ardently
desired now to go herself to Paris, but her failing health,
and the importance of the events which were rapidly
succeeding each other in Rome, made it impossible for her
to realize this wish. She wrote, however, a long and
powerful letter to Charles V., which was conveyed to him
by the hand of a private messenger. She counsels him to
consult the University of Paris on the subject of the schism.^
" You have at hand the fount of science," she reminds him,
and expresses confidence in the justice of the verdict of the
Sorbonne on the validity of Urban's election. The Uni-
versity of Paris, (founded by Charlemagne in 791), was
reputed at this time as " the mother and mistress of arts
and learning." It included sixty-three colleges, the principal
of these being the Sorbonne, which ultimately gave its
name to the whole. It had acquired a great authority in
the Church, its members having proved themselves above
all considerations of party or of temporary interests, and
able to give a wise and just judgment on controverted
questions. This University had given its verdict at first
strongly in favour of Urban. Charles V., however, leaned
personally towards the Cardinal of Geneva, and the re-
establishment of the Papacy at Avignon. He addressed an
urgent letter to the University, which was read before the
full assembly of learned doctors, urging them to consider
how great a misfortune it would be if France were
divided on this question. The sovereign, princes, and
nobles, as well as the prelates of France, had unanimously

' Letter 187.

The Company of St. Geoi-ge. 273

declared themselves for Clement, and these all now waited
for the University of Paris to sanction and endorse their
decision. Charles's letter was regarded almost as a com-
mand. The University deliberated for several weeks, and
in a general assembly at the end of that time, voted, by a
considerable majority, in favour of Clement. The weightiest
members of the Sorbonne, however, adhered to Urban, and
a letter was addressed by the University to both the elected
Popes, admonishing them to come to an agreement at once
for the abdication of one or the other, in order to restore
the Church to unity, under one head.

The strong castle of St. Angelo at Eome still remained
in the hands of the Clementines. Constant collisions
took place between the Romans and the Breton and
Gascon soldiers of the anti-Pope, who defended the
castle. A brave knight of Romagna, Alberico di Bar-
biano, attached to the cause of Urban, had formed at this
time an army of Italians, whom he subjected to strict
moral discipline, and inspired with a patriotic devotion.
They invoked St. George as their patron saint. " This
company of St. George," says Sismondi, " became the great
school of the Italian militia ; it produced the distinguished
generals of the succeeding century, and redeemed the mili-
tary honour of Italy." " These brave troops," writes Cape-
celatro, " were successful in driving out from our beautiful
land the accursed Ultramontane invaders. Germans,
Bretons, Gascons, and English, all fled before Alberico
and his stem warriors." The soldiers of Clement had
encamped at Marino, in the neighbourhood of Rome
and their presence was a continual menace to the city.
Clement daily sent messengers to the French army in

T

274 Catharine of Siena.

the castle of St. Angelo, and it became evident to the
Romans that a concerted attack was meditated by the foe
within and without the city. On the 29th of April the
Romans, under Barbiano, made a furious attack upon the
army of Clement, which yielded and finally took to flight.
The castle of St. Angelo surrendered, after a day of despe-
rate fighting, and the Romans were again masters of their
own city. It was popularly believed that this great victory
was due to the prayers of Catharine. " She lamented," says
her biographers, " to see the Church reduced to such sore
straits as to be obliged to resort to arms ; and she never
ceased to supplicate God that these tribulations might cease."
She wrote an address to Barbiano and his captains on the
occasion of this victory, which Cartier justly calls a "noble
and chivalrous harangue." She congratulates them on
their victory, counsels humility, and beseeches them to
direct their soldiers in the way of virtue, that they might
never combat for anything but the truth, and might learn
to become valiant soldiers of Jesus Christ. " Take for the
base and principle of all your actions the honour of God.
. . . In your character as chiefs give to your followers
first the example of a true and holy fear of God. . . .
I pray you also to take great care to surround yourselves
with good and wise counsels, and to choose as officers,
courageous, faithful, and conscientious men ; for good
chiefs make good soldiers. . . . Acknowledge with
gratitude, you and yours, the benefits you have received
from God, and from the glorious knight of St. George,
whose name you bear. May he defend you ! Pardon me if I
have importuned you with words. Love for the Church
and desire for your salvation urge me thus to write. As

Surrender of the Castle of St. Angelo. 275

for us, we do as Moses did ; when the people of Israel com-
bated, Moses prayed, and so long as he prayed Israel
prevailed. We do the same. Read this letter, if it please
you, to all the captains."

Catharine had spent the day of the battle in prayer, sus-
tained by her companions of the community of Santa Chiara.
She now added action to prayer. The French were still
defending St. Angelo when the sun was about to set.
Catharine went to the castle, and presented herself to
RostagnOji y^Y^Q commanded it, and by her earnestness
succeeded in inducing him to avoid further bloodshed, by
surrendering, on the conditions proposed by the venerable
Roman senator Giovanni Cenci, with whom she had pre-
viously been in consultation. In a patriotic letter which she
subsequently addressed to the gonfaloniers of the republic of
Rome, she gently reproaches them for having left unacknow-
ledged the solid and peaceful service rendered by Cenci : "I
pray you show consideration towards those who have won
for us this victory. Help them in their need ; above all, the
poor wounded. Be kindly and pacific, so that you may
retain their confidence. This is necessary, my dear brothers,
in order that we be not guilty of ingratitude ; and also it is
politic. It seems to me that you have acted a little ungrate-
fully in respect to Giovanni Cenci. I know with what zeal
and with what generosity of heart he laid aside every
consideration except that of serving God and the republic,
by saving us from the danger which continually threatened
us from St. Angelo. He acted with great wisdom ; and

1 Some of the chroniclers give the name of the governor of the
castle as Guy de Provence.

T 2

276 Catharine of Siena.

now not only has no acknowledgment been made of his
services, but the vice of envy has arisen and stirred up
various calumnies against him. It is an evil thing that you
should act thus towards those who serve you. It is offen-
sive to God and hurtful to yourselves ; for the city has need
of wise, prudent, and conscientious men. For the love of
Christ crucified, act no more in this fashion. . . I speak
thus in your own interests, and not from any private feel-
ing. You know very well that I am a stranger here. I
speak for your own happiness, which with all my heart I
desire. I trust that, as discreet and honourable men, you
will accept the purity of the motives which urge me to
address you, and will pardon my boldness."

The victory of Marino was gained on the 29th of April,
1379. The Roman soldiers coupled the names of "St.
George and Catharine " in their songs of triumph, and in
their mutual congratulations over the victory. Catharine
was constantly seen in the city, and her presence increased
for the moment the enthusiastic love and veneration felt
for her by the people and by the army of St. George.
Every morning she had, by their own desire, an audience
with the magistrates of the city. She visited the wounded
in the hospitals, and charged the sisters of her household to
take care of their souls and bodies.

The usual results of victory began to be manifested —
a tendency to vainglory, self-gratulation, and insolence.
" It was laid upon her heart to labour that the occasion of
this victory should be so made use of as to confirm the
Roman people in their allegiance to the true Pontiff, and
still more to raise their thoughts towards God in ac-
knowledgment that it is he who governs the universe

Public Procession and Thanksgiving. 277

and disposes events."^ She found Pope Urban very willing
to listen to the proposal which she brought before him, for a
public thanksgiving. It does not seem clear, indeed, whether
Urban did not himself first propose it. Since his election
to the papacy, he had been obliged to live in a house near
the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, it being impossible
to pass along the road to the Vatican without insult and
menace from the Clementine soldiers in possession of the
Mole of Hadrian. It was now agreed that the Pontiff of
Trastevere should go in solemn procession from Santa Maria
in Trastevere to St. Peter's, taking up his abode hence-
forward in the Vatican. But by the counsels and efforts of
Catharine, the matter was so ordered that this event should
not be a mere vain show, calculated to increase the pride of
victory, but rather a humbling of themselves, on the part
of the leaders and people, before God, in the confession of
sin and in the invocation oi his presence and blessing. The
ceremony was as follows. All the clergy of Eome, walking
humbly and barefooted, preceded the Pontiff; then fol-
lowed Urban, also barefooted, and with no outward show, or
insignia of earthly rank. The whole of the people of
Eome followed the Pontiff, " silently, in recollection and
in prayer." The procession thus advanced towards St.
Peter's, where, without the usual ecclesiastical pomp, it
appears, the Pontiff offered up to God prayers and thanks-
giving, with confession of sin ; and the crowd who followed
him responded. The people were awed and impressed.
The adherents of Clement had been at work for many
weeks circulating calumnies against Urban, of a nature

1 Capecelatro, Lib. ix.

278 Catharine of Siena.

to deprive him of the confidence of the Roman people ;
hence it was esteemed a prudent measure on the part of
the Pontiff to make himself thus one of the people, so to
speak, in an unostentatious ceremonial, and to renew an act
of humility which had been unheard of since Pope Stephen
IV., in 769, went in solemn procession in like manner from
the Church of St. John Lateran to St. Peter's. Catharine
wrote, some days later, to Urban : " I rejoice from the
depths of my heart, father, to have witnessed the good
pleasure of God fulfilled in you by that act of humility,
such as has not been seen for a very long time. The spirits
of evil put forth all their efforts to mar it by some abuse
from within or from without, but the holy angels restrained
their malice." Fearing that the temper of the Pontiff
would lead him into the habit of appealing to arms, and
trusting in such defences, she adds : " God will act for you,
and will give to you the needful wisdom and force to act in
such a manner as to guide his bark with prudence. . . .
Now it is his will that you should call around you the
servants of God. . . . These, father, are the soldiers
who will give you the true victory."

The army of Clement had been completely routed at
Marino. " The anti-Pope, almost demented with fear,"i
saved himself by flight, and took refuge in the castle of
Spelonica, whence he sent messengers to Queen Joanna
to beg of her an armed escort to conduct him to Naples.
The Queen not only sent him immediate succour, but
prepared to receive him with great honours. When the
galley of Clement reached the rock on which stood the

1 "PenedemensfactusAntipapa." — Walsingham, in "Hist. Ang."

The Enchanted Castle. 279

romantic Castle dell' Uovo, the Queen and her Court, who
were waiting for him, came forth to meet him. Joanna
had commanded that a beautiful bridge should be con-
structed, and thrown across from the rock to the galley, that
Clement might land the more easily. She herself conducted
him into the castle, which was festively adorned with ban-
ners ; and having seated him on a throne prepared for him,
she and her husband, the Duke of Brunswick, prostrated
themselves at his feet and craved his pontifical benediction.
A crowd of courtiers, ladies and young damsels, gorgeously
and gaily attired, waited upon and did honour to him.
Clement and his cardinals remained for several days in the
enchanted castle,^ in the midst of feasting and convivialities
alternated with luxurious repose. But at the very moment
when these revelries were at their height, the predictions
and warnings conveyed in Catharine's letters to the Queen
began to be verified. The Neapolitans regarded with a
sullen displeasure the favour shown by their sovereign to
the pretender to the impacy, as they judged him, a man
of foreign blood, and the opponent of a Pope who was a
Neapolitan. They saw that the Schism was thus danger-
ously encouraged, to the scandal of Christendom, and to
the risk of the peace of Naples. The secret festivities of
the castle, and the adoring prostrations in public, dis-
gusted the people, who continued to nurse their ill-
humour in silence, until an incident occurred which called
forth its expression in full southern Italian fury. An
artisan had uttered some too free and light words one

^ Froissart records that the Castle dell' Uovo was believed to have
sprung up in a single night, by magic.

280 Catharine of Siena.

(lay, concerning Queen Joanna and her guest, Clement VII.
He was reproved by a noble called Andrea Ravignano ; but
the artisan persisting in his remarks, Andrea rode his horse
over him and pierced one of his eyes with his spear. This
insult was sufficient to excite the Neapolitans, in heart
strongly attached to Urban, to tumult and rebellion. A
tailor called Brigante, nephew of the artisan whose eye
had been put out, assembled a crowd of the lowest of the
population, who armed themselves and raised the cry,
" Viva Papa Urbano ! " In a few hours Naples was in revo-
lution. The Archbishop of Naples, Bossuti, an Urbanite,
who had lived in concealment since the Queen had declared
herself the partisan of Clement, was conducted forth by the
people and reinstated in his own palace, while the schisma-
tic Bernardo, Avho had been elected in his place by Clement,
was ignominiously driven forth from the city. Clement
felt himself scarcely secure within the walls of the
enchanted castle while such a tempest raged without.
He once more fled and took refuge at Gaeta. Not many
days later he re-entered his galley and set sail, with his
cardinals, for the coast of France. A few weeks later ho
had re-established himself, -with his Court, at Avignon.
Thus the ill-advised Queen became indirectly the cause
of the expulsion from Italy of the infamous Cardinal
Eobert of Geneva, whom she had adored as Pope, and at
the same time brought on a civil war in her own king-
dom, which continued to be renewed at intervals until her
own tragic death, already recorded.

Catharine had gathered around her in Rome many of
her friends, men and women, strong in the faith, and
ready to do and to snfTer all things for the cause of God.

Revolt in Rome. 281

She had joined with them in the solemn public thanks-
giving to God for recent benefits. " The holy Church and
her Pontiff began to breathe a little, and Catharine of Siena
•enjoyed at last some consolation in their peace." But this
peace was of brief duration ; fresh and even graver causes
of anxiety arose. Despite her unceasing efforts as a
mediator and pacificator, Catharine observed, from day to
day, that the people of Rome were increasingly disposed
to find a cause of quarrel with Urban. The Pontiff's harsh-
ness of manner and unbending character constantly tended
to widen the breach. The Clementines, even after their
■defeat, had continued secretly to spread reports injurious
to Urban, and to undermine the loyalty of his subjects
towards him. Several conspiracies against his life were
discovered and thwarted. Catharine wrote to him, " I
beseech you as much as possible to guard your person, in-
asmuch as we must not tempt God by neglecting the pre-
cautions suggested by prudence. I say this because I
know that there are wicked men who are not asleep, and
who are watching to lay traps for your life,"^ Disaffection
■and threatened rebellion forced the Pontiff to remain almost
a prisoner in the Vatican. Disorders prevailed in the city,
and crimes of violence were daily perpetrated. Catharine
gave herself continually to prayer. She wrote some ac-
count to Raymond of the bitterness of that experience,
and the travail of her soul over the misguided people,
whom she loved and pitied too. She wrestled in prayer
all night long for the Church and for the world, and for
^'this poor people of Rome." She cried, in her anguish,

^ Urban died by poison ten years after this time.

282 CatJmrine of Siena.

" Oh, Eternal God, take my life ! Eeceive this only sacri-
fice which I can make. Take it, and let it be an offering
for thy Church's sake. I have nothing else to give except
that which thou didst give for me — life. 0 suffer me to
pour out my life for the reformation of thy Church ! "
She pleaded, " Spare this people, 0 Lord ! Let thy judg-
ments fall on me, but have mercy on them." And her
request was heard, for she did indeed offer up her life, in
anguish and prayers, and tears and vigils, for the attain-
ment of that which was the all-engrossing desire of her soul.
While she prayed, her feeble frame was shaken as by a
whirlwind. She said that "if the divine power had not
encircled her members," she could not have continued to
live and to pray ; she would have "fallen under her own
weight." Night after night she maintained this conflict
with the mighty Angel of the Covenant who wrestled with
Jacob of old. "Yield to me now, for I am faint." "I will
not let thee go except thou bless me." Thus she cried;
and when she ceased, and the morning dawned upon her
soul, there sounded in her heart the marvellous words,
" As a prince hast thou had power with God, and hast pre-
vailed." Whilst she was even thus praying, the noise of
many feet was heard in the streets of the city. Secret
conspiracy had failed ; now open rebellion was proclaimed.
Urban could not, among his many faults, plead guilty to
that of faint-hearted ness. He remained in the Vatican,
making no preparations for defence. A tumultuous armed
mob marched to St. Peter's. The cry was heard, " To the-
Vatican ! " and, storming the doors, the crowd rushed in
with vociferations and violent ^gestures. The foremost-
amons: them were well-known assassins. The multitude

The Eebels Overawed. 283

outside pressed forward, so that in a moment the building
was filled with the revolutionaries. Urban entered from
the opposite side, holding aloft the cross. Attired in his
pontifical robes, and with the triple mitre on his head, he
ascended the papal throne, and sat silently facing the
multitude, with a fearless, immovable countenance. The
grandeur and composure of his mien, and the "sternness
and solemn majesty of his countenance at this terrible
moment," filled the rude multitude with amazement not
immixed with admiration. They were awestruck ; they
stood still and gazed at the Pontiff. He was alone and
unarmed ; they counted their numbers by hundreds, and
were armed with swords, clubs, and firebrands. " Urban
smote them with the terrible majesty of his frown ;" while,
in the words of Pope Boniface VIII. when similarly assailed,
he asked, " Whom seek ye 1" At these words the assassins
dropped their arms, and the people, smitten with a sudden
sense of shame and fear, fled from the Vatican, and Urban
was left alone. Catharine was outside in the midst of the
crowd. For three days she laboured among the malcontents,
showing herself an able mediator between the people and the
Pontiff. " Her prayers, her presence, and her sweet and
ardent eloquence did what could not have been done by
armed force." In a few days peace and quietness were
restored to the city; the people returned to their homes,
and many testified a sincere sorrow for the violence of which
they had been guilty.

The bad news of the final verdict of the University of
Paris had reached Rome. Catharine, disappointed at the
failure of Raymond's attempted embassy to Charles V.,
presented a petition to Urban to bo permitted, even now

284 Catharine of Siena.

herself to go to Paris. Urban replied that her presence
was essential in Eome, and that he was unwilling that she
should go. Indeed, it may be truly said that Catharine
ruled in Kome at this time. Her labours were almost super-
human. Every morning she repaired to the Capitol, where
the gonfaloniers of the republic awaited her. No measure
of importance was adopted without her counsels. The
interests of the Commonwealth seemed to depend upon her
presence and activity. Urban bestowed upon her the fullest
powers and authority to act for the good of the Church.
Prominent citizens waited at her door every day for a brief
interview, and for words of advice on matters of difficulty,
private and public. The chiefs of the army sought her
counsels, and the sick and the prisoners sighed for the re-
turn of the day and hour which brought her to their bedside,
or to their cell. Every day she went to St. Peter's to offer
up her prayers for the people ; every evening she retired to
her own room to pray and to intercede, through the long
night. Her frame became daily more and more attenuated.
The lamp of life was fast burning out. Her biographers tell
us that " she walked the streets of Rome like one who had
issued from the tomb," so emaciated was she. Her suffer-
ings showed themselves outwardly to all eyes, but nothing
that medical art could suggest gave her any relief. Day
by day, that pale, slight, ghost-like figure was seen pas-
sing through the streets, to the Capitol, to the Vatican,
to St. Peter's and to the humbler people's quarters in
Trastevere, intent on the Master's work, and unwearying
in ministrations. She ruled in Rome. She ruled by the
force of her prayers, and the power of Christian love.
Those who passed her in the streets of the city, paused,

Faithful unto Death. 285

and crossed themselves. Love, and awe, and pity filled the
heart of the beholder at the sight of her ever-ready smile
of greeting, bright and cheerful and sweet as ever, while
her wasted frame seemed only to be held together and
borne up as by a miracle. " Her cruel sufferings increased
daily, her skin adhered to her bones, and she was tor-
mented with a continual thirst ; she walked, prayed, and
worked without intermission ; but those who saw her would
have believed her to be a phantom rather than a living
being ; her body was visibly consumed, but her soul rose
joyfully and courageously above all."

CHAPTER IX.

Civil discord had ceased, for a time, in Eome, and quiet
reigned in the city. Catharine, feeling that her bodily-
strength was failing fast, addressed her last counsels to
Urban, in the following letter, in which she urges upon
him, besides the reformation of the Church, the exercise of
self-control in his words and acts, and the faithful fulfil-
ment of his promises (for Urban was held to be rash in
promising, and sometimes inexact in the performance of
his promise) : — " Most holy and beloved father in Christ,
jour unworthy daughter Catharine writes to you in the
ardent desire to see you following in the steps of the
great St. Gregory, acting with prudence, guided by the
sweet light of truth, and governing the Church and your
people with such wisdom that nothing which you ordain
may be called in question. I am aware, holy father, of
the insolent and violent reply given by the prefect to the
Roman ambassadors.^ A general meeting of the Council
ought to be held concerning this matter, at which the
chiefs of the quarters, and other distinguished citizens
should be present. I pray you, father, to see these per-

j This prefect was Francesco di Vico, Signor of Viterbo, an
enemy of Urban, who on some occasion had insulted the Roman
ambassadors sent to him in a conciliatory spirit.

Her last Letters to Urban. 28T

sons frequently, and to bind them to you with prudence,
in bonds of affection and fidelity. I entreat also, that
when the report is brought to you of the decision of the
assembly, you will receive the messengers with all possible
gentleness, explaining to them what to your Holiness
seems most needful to be done. Pardon me if I say what
I ought not to say ; but I desire that you should under-
stand and consider well the character of your Roman
subjects, who are far more easily won and held in alle-
giance by gentleness than by harsh Avords, and force. . . .
I humbly beseech you also to be very prudent in never
promising anj'thing except what it is distinctly possible
for you to fulfil, in order to avoid the shame, confusion,
and evil which may result from the opposite course.
Bear with me, kind father, when I say such things to you.
I trust that your humility and your goodness will make
you accept them without indignation or scorn, although
they are spoken by so unworthy a woman. He who is
really humble does not criticize the person who counsels,
but thinks only of the truth and of the honour of God.
Take courage, and do not be troubled about the effects of
an insolent reply from this rebel (Francesco di Vico) ; God
will overrule all, for he is the ruler and protector of the
Church and of your Holiness. Be always calm, in a holy
fear of God, always blameless in your words and in your
conduct ... I pray you, moreover, to provide for the ad-
justment of the affair of which Leon has spoken to you,^
for the scandal is continually augmenting, on account of

1 Leon is supposed to have been a disciple of Catharine. There had
been some diflference between the Pope and the ambassadors of Siena
concerning the restitution to the Sienese of the fortress of Talamone,
and other matter8,induced in part by the roughness of Urban's temper.

288 Catharine of Siena.

the treatment which the ambassador of Siena met with,
and other things which daily keep alive anger and irrita-
tion in the feeble hearts of men. You have no need of
such a spirit now; you need men who will be peaceable
and not combative. Even admitting that all was done
from a praiseworthy zeal, and that it can be justified, yet
there are people who act with such haste and anger that
their manner at least cannot be justified. I pray your
Holiness, then, to make allowance for human infirmity ; for
I Avarn you that if some remedy be not applied, the sore
will deepen. Recall to your mind the ruin caused through-
out the whole of Italy, through the delay in deposing
wicked governors who destroy the Church of God. I
know that you are not ignorant of this. Let your Holi-
ness see then what is right to be done. I humbly ask your
benediction," This is the last letter which she addressed
to the Pontiff. In a previous one she had pleaded again
and again, and at greater length, for the reformation for
which she continually laboured. " When we live for the
honour of God," she wrote, " without thinking of self, we
receive light, power, constancy, and a supernatural per-
severance, through which we never fail, but continue with
courage to do our duty. I have prayed, and I pray con-
tinually to the Eternal Father, to bestow this constancy
upon you, father, and upon all faithful Christians, for in our
present circumstances we have an extreme need for it. For
myself, I will never cease to work, so long as God gives
me the grace. I wish to give my life for you and the
Church, in tears and watchings, and in humble, persever-
ing prayer. God will enable me to do it, for of myself I
can do nothing; and I know that humble, persevering,

Last Letters to Friends. 289

and believing prayer, provided its demands are just, is
never refused."

The following extracts from the last letters which
Catharine wrote to Father Raymond, as well as the last to
Stephen Maconi, who, on account of personal and family
affairs had remained in Siena, are more especially interest-
ing, because, in addition to the Christian fervour which
pervades them, and the useful counsels which they contain
in common with her other letters, they manifest the yearn-
ing tenderness of the mother about to leave her beloved
family, and the solicitude of the faithful friend, mindful
not only of the spiritual needs, but of all the smaller and
temporal concerns of those with whom she has walked
life's pilgrimage, and to whom she believes she is shortly to-
speak her last adieu. For the nearer the soul approaches,
to the divine and eternal source of love, the more fully do
the obligations of sacred human love reveal themselves,
and the more keen is the self-reproach for the neglect even
of the smallest of these. Those who have loved the most,
and with the greatest fidelity, have ever been the first to
confess in the moment of death, " I have not loved enough!
in many things I have been unfaithful to love."

"My dear Father in Jesus Christ, — Catharine, the
servant of his servants, writes to you in the desire of
seeing you a pillar of the Church, and ever led forward
on the right path, by the light which reveals to us the
truth. It seems to me, according to what I understand
from your letter, that you have been subject to many in-
ternal conflicts by the snares of the evil one and through your
own weakness. It has seemed to you that the burden laid
upon you was beyond your strength, and you have thought

u

290 Catharine of Siena.

that I have judged you by too high a standard of my own.
You have thought also that my affection for you had
diminished ; but you are mistaken ; and by what you
have written you have proved rather that charity in me
is augmented, and in yourself has diminished. I love you
as I love myself ; and I have hoped that the goodness of
God would also make your affection perfect ; but it has
not been so, for you have been looking about to see
whether you could cast off from you the burden which op-
pressed you, and have fallen back into weakness and unfaith-
fulness. I have seen this very clearly ; and 1 wish that I
had been the only one who remarked it. In pointing it
out to you, have I not proved to you that my affection
has increased instead of diminishing 1 But how is it that
you have entertained the very least of these fears ?
How is it that you can ever have believed that I desire
any other thing than the life of your soul 1 AVhere is the
faith and the confidence which you ought always to
possess 1 What has become of that assurance which you
once had that all which happens to us is allowed and decided
by God, not only in great events, but in the smallest cir-
cumstances ] If you had remained faithful, father, you
would not now have been vacillating and fearful before
God and towards me, but, as an obedient and zealous
son, you would have gone forward ! If you had not
been able to walk upright, j^ou would have crept upon
your hands and knees ! If you had not been able to travel
as a papal messenger, you woidd have travelled as a
pilgrim ! If you had had no money, you would have begged !
Such boldness and obedience would have advanced our
cause before God and in the hearts of man more than all

Last Letters to Friends. 291

worldly prudence and all human precaution. It is through
my own shortcomings that I now fail to see this perfec-
tion in you. I know very well, however, that, although
you have shown weakness, you are always possessed with
a direct and holy desire to fulfil the will of God. I had,
however, greatly wished that 3'ou had not stopped on your
way, but that you had pursued your enemy to the death.
For myself, I was at that time occupied night and day
with the things of God, and with many affairs which have
not succeeded on account of the want of zeal in those who
undeitook them, and, above all, through my own sins and
imperfections. Alas ! we see around us offences increasing
and inundating us ! In the kingdom of Naples we see the
last state of things to be worse than the first ! I shall
have much to tell you on all these matters, unless, indeed,
before I see you again I shall have received the favour of
leaving this life. Yes, yes ! I do assure you that I would
have given all the world for you to have continued on your
route ! I will not, however, vex myself about it, because
I am persuaded that nothing happens without some secret
purpose of God. My conscience is at rest, for I have
done all I could to further this embassy to the King
of France, May the Holy Spirit accomplish that which
we bad workers have failed to accomplish.

" As for the embassy to the King of Hungary, it a{>-
peared to be very acceptable to the Sovereign Pontiff,
and he had decided that you and your companions should
be charged to undertake it. I do not know what has
caused him to cliange his mind. He now wishes that you
should remain where you are, and do all the good you
possibly can. I beseech you, put away all uneasiness.

u2

292 Catharine of Siena.

"Devote yourself wholly to God, my father. Do not
reckon too much on spiritual consolations. Hope and pray
continually for these dead and dying, that the hand of
Eternal Justice may be held back by our continual prayer.
If you thus act, nothing will ever seem to you impossible,
nor will you calculate concerning the difficulties or the
results of what you undertake ; but you will see, by the
light of faith, that in Christ Jesus, and in him crucified, all
things are possible, and that God never lays upon us any
burden which is beyond our strength. I tell you, dearest
father, that, whether we will it or not, the times in which
we live invite us to die for the world. Let us willingly
give ourselves as a sacrifice. . . . You ask me to entreat of
the Divine Goodness that you may be filled with the ardour
of St. Vincent, of St. Lawrence, of the great St. Paul, and
of the beloved Disciple, and you tell me that you will then
do great things, which will cause me to rejoice. I thank
God for this ; for without this ardour you will do nothing,
either great things or little, and you will not be my joy and
crown. It is in thinking so much of these things that I
could wish that you were near me, in order that I could
have shown you better all I desire to say. In being faithful
you will do great things for God, and will bring to a happy
conclusion the business which he confides to your care ; or,
if it does not succeed perfectly, it will not be your fault.

" You write to me that the Schismatics are seeking
daily to arrest you : but you cannot doubt that God is
strong enough to remove from them the power of ac-
complishing this desire. You ought also to consider,
father, that you are not yet worthy of the great happi-
ness of martyrdom, and you should consequently be

Letters to Baymond. 293

without fear. Take care that that does not happen to you
which happened to the Abbot of St. Antimius. Through
fear, and under the excuse of not tempting providence, he
fled from Siena to Rome, believing he should thus escape
imprisonment and be safe ; but he was put in prison here,
and he has suflfered that which you know. Thus are
pusillanimous hearts deceived. Be courageous, then, and
face death. I ask your blessing."

" My dear father in Christ, — I write to you again, in the
desire that no adversity and no persecution may turn you
aside. Think of those glorious workers who have sacri-
ficed their lives, and have watered the soil of the Church
with their blood. Take example from them, that I may
no more see you timid, and fearing your own shadow, but
a valiant soldier of the Lord. Oh, my father, I wish that
I could reveal to you the great mysteries of God which
I have seen ! I will speak of them as briefly as I can,
and in so far as human language will permit. I also will
tell you what I wish you to do after my death. But do
not be sorrowful on account of what I say, for I know
not whether the Divine Goodness will recall me now, or
leave me longer on earth. My father, God has shown
me great things, which it is impossible for me to describe."
[She then speaks of the Sunday of Sexagesima, on which
she met with an accident which occasioned much suffering
to the last hour of her life.] " I do not understand how I
could ever get over such an accident. The pain in my
heart was so great that my garment was torn by it. I fell,
and remained in the chapel in great agony. On Monday
evening I felt pressed in spirit to write to the Sovereign
Pontiff" and to three cardinals. My friends supported me,

294 CatJiarine of Siena.

and I went to my cell ; but when I had finished the letter
to the Pontiff it became impossible for me to write another
word, so great was the agony which I suffered. A little
while afterwards a terrible spiritual conflict was permitted
— an attack of the enemy of souls which almost overcame
me. It seemed as if he were furious against me, as if he
conceived that it had been I, who am but a frail vessel of
clay, who had torn from his grasp that of which he has
for so long a time retained possession in the holy Church.
The terror of soul which was then added to my bodily
sufferings was such that I felt impelled to fly from my cell,
which I did, and went to the chapel, as if my cell had been
the cause of my sufferings." [She then tells Raymond
how she fell again and again, fainting, and at last, unable
to speak or to move, she lay as if dead, but with her spiri-
tual vision clear, and her powers of mind in full activity.]
" My memory recalled all the circumstances and needs of
the Church and of all Christian people. I was admitted
to the presence of God. I cried to him in his presence,
and with great confidence, taking the kingdom of heaven
by violence, and offering up to him as my plea the blood
of the Lamb and all the sufferings which he endured. It
was permitted to me to plead with such urgency that I
could no longer doubt that he granted my request. I
then prayed for you all, beseeching him to accomplish in
you his will and my own ardent desires. Last, I prayed
for myself, that he would save me from eternal death.
Thus I remained so long a time that our community
wept for me as if I were dead. The spiritual terror was
gone, and the Lord Jesus drew near to me, promising to
receive my prayers and grant me my desires, and accept-

She contends against weakness. 295

ing the offering which I had made of my poor life as a
sacrifice to his Church. Then he who is the Truth showed
me things which it is not possible to express in words. I
began to recover." [But again and again the spiritual
terror and conflict returned, such as it passes the imagina-
tion to conceive of, and she vainly attempts to speak of it.]
" Two days and two nights passed in these fierce tempests,
but the aim and desire of my soul changed not ; it re-
mained united' to the object of its affection, while my body
seemed reduced to nothing I can take no nourish-
ment, not even a drop of water ; my life holds by a thread ;
and now I know not what the Divine Goodness wills to do
with me. He will fix a term to my miseries and anguish,
and cause them to cease, or he will, through ordinary means,
restore health to my body. I pray him only to accomplish
his Avill in me, and not to leave you orphans — you and the
others — but to direct you ever in the way of the truth. I
am persuaded he will do so.

*' I was able to set myself again to toil for the tempest-
tossed vessel of the Church, I went to St. Peter's. I did
not wish to leave the place, night or day, until I saw
the people who were in revolt, again at peace with the
Sovereign Pontiff." i After some general counsels, she
adds : " I would ask of you also to gather together the
books and the other writings of mine which you will find —
you and Friar Bartholomew, Friar Thomas Caffarini and
the Master, (Giovanni Tantucci) — and to do with them

^ This refers to the occasion when the populace, who had entered
the Vatican, retired in awe before Urban. The sudden calm, and
suppression of the revolt were attributed by all to the efforts and
prayers of Catharine.

296 Catharine of Siena.

whatever seems to you most useful and for the honour of
God. I confide to you also this my poor family, that you
may be to them, as much as you can, a pastor and father.
Hold them together in the bonds of mutual charity, that

they be not scattered as sheep having no shepherd

Pardon me if I have ever written anything to give you pain.
I never wish to give you pain, but I wish to have fulfilled
my duty, for I know not what God wills to do with me.
Do not be grieved because we are separated ; your presence
would certainly have been a great consolation to me, but I
have a still greater consolation, a still higher joy — that of
seeing the good you are doing in the Church ; and I pray
you to work ever with a yet greater zeal, and never to yield
before any persecutions. May you ever rest in the blessing
of Christ Jesus. — Catharine. Rome, March, 1380."

" To Stephen di Corrado Maconi. Rome, January, 1380,
— My very dear son in Christ Jesus, — I, Catharine, write
to thee in the desire of seeing thee a mirror of all virtue,
by the example of thy life, the teaching of thy words, and
thy humble and continual prayers ; that so thou mayest
become an instrument in the hands of God to bring souls
to Christ. Oh, how great is the strength we derive from
prayer offered up in solitude and in self-knowledge ! . . . .
Yesterday I received one of your letters, to which I reply
in a few words. As for the favours I had promised you, I
reply that you must never expect any more services from
me unless you come yourself to claim them. I do not say
that I shall ever refuse to help you in all your spiritual
wants ; for never have I more earnestly wished than now
to instruct you in the things which God puts into my
heart; and perhaps you never needed them more than

Last Letter to Stephen. 297

now. You say that you are dissatisfied with your state of
mind. When you are thoroughly so, I perceive that you
will leave it for a better state. I hope that, as you have
begun to remove the veil from your eyes, you will soon be
able to take it away entirely. In reply to what you tell
me of Master Matthew, I am exceedingly grieved for the
trouble and annoyance which he has had on account of
my negligence and ignorance. (Ask him to send me again
a note of what it is which he requires, for I had indeed
forgotten it.) I will do all I possibly can to remove the
effect of m}' carelessness. Tell him that his trouble is still
more my own. If this letter, &c. Have patience with me,
&c. . . . ^ I have received a letter from the Abbot, who
speaks of some new members of his community, among
whom he hopes to reckon you. It is a great joy to me
to see that you wish to advance in the religious life, but
I am surprised that you should have made any engage-
ment of this kind without letting us know. There is
some mystery about it. I pray God that he will do with
you what is most for his honour and for the good of your
soul. I have much to say to you, but I cannot and will
not write more. Neri is at Naples, where he has been
well received by the Abbot Lisolo. He would have
written to you, but he has been sick and nigh to death.
Encourage all my children, and, above all, Peter. Recall
me to him ; and, in doing so, tell him from me that God
loves few words and many good deeds. I do not, however,

1 It is evident that tiiis letter was written in great suffering.
There are breaks and unfinished sentences. The writer begs
Stephen to have patience with her, and apologizes for having lost
or forgotten, in her extreme failure of health, some letter written
to her.

298 CatJiarine of Siena.

impose silence upon him, and I do not forbid him to speak
or to write to me, if it will be a consolation to him to do so.
Indeed, I have sometimes been surprised that he has not
written. Lisa and all our family commend themselves to
you. There are here enclosed other letters, sealed. Give
them in this state to Mistress Catharine di Giovanni ; she
will distribute them. Dwell ever in the remembrance of
the Holy Jesus."

Most of Catharine's published prayers bear the date of
the years 1379-80, and were written at Rome. They are
full of affection and of longings for the salvation of all. In
general she begins with the larger requests, for blessing on
all mankind ; next she prays for the Church ; and finally
concludes with a petition for her dear and intimate friends :
" 0 Eternal Love, I commend to thee, with all the strength
of my desires, those whom thou hast given me to love.
Thou didst confide them to me in order that I might con-
tinually awaken and revive them ; and yet I have slept.
Do thou thyself revive them, gracious Father and God, so
that their eyes may be ever fixed on thee. I have sinned,
Saviour, I have sinned. Have pity on me. Lord, make
haste to help me. Amen."

" 0 Ineffable Love, how royally do those advance who
have no will except thy will. Those also learn with ease
thy doctrine. 0, Eternal Saviour, what is thy doctrine,
and by what way shall we approach the Father ? I know
of no other way save that which thou hast traced with thy
precious blood, and which thou revealest by the light of
thy ardent love. This day, then, I implore thy mercy,
that I may have the grace to follow thy teaching with sim-
plicity of heart. . . . (She speaks, in her prayer, of the

Prayers at Rome. 299

many and varied means by which the Father draws
erring souls to himself.) " Thy mercy, Lord, has shown
to me — me most unworthy and sinful — that we must
not judge our reasonable fellow-creatures, whom thou
leadest by ways so many and so different. Jesus crucified
is the one way ; yet hast thou many means by which
thou guidest sinners into this way. I give thanks to thee
for this."

" Lord God, I offer my life to thee, now and for ever.
Use it for thy glory, I supplicate thee, 0 Christ, by the
merits of thy Passion, to purify thy Church from all its vile-
ness, and to cut away the dead branches from the living
vine. Delay not, 0 my Lord, I beseech thee. I know that
thou canst, by thy power, slowly and gradually correct the
deformed branches and re-plant thy vine ; yet make haste,
0 Lord ; make no long tarrying, 0 my God. Since thou
hast power to create all things out of nothing, it is easy for
thee to make use of that which already exists, in extirpat-
ing evil. I commend to thee my children, those whom
thou hast committed to my affection and particular care. 0
that they may be enlightened by thy bright rays, that they
may be purified from their sins and become active labourers
in the field which thou hast assigned to them. Rebuke and
visit upon me, 0 Lord, their eiTors and their weakness, for
it is I who am answerable for them. I have sinned. Lord ;
have mei'cy on me."

The following is the last prayer which she recorded in
writing. Eome, February, 1380: —

" Eternal God and Master, who didst form the vessel of
the body out of the dust of the earth ; who didst create the
body so humble a thing, and then fill it with so great a

300 Catharine of Siena.

treasure — the soul, made in thine own image, 0 Eternal.
Thou, Lord, art the Great Master who canst create and re-
create, who canst break and bring to nought this fragile vase
as thou wilt. 0 Father, I offer again to thee myself — my

life for thy Church I commend to thee thy Church.

Eternal God, I commend to thee also my beloved children,
and if it be thy merciful will to take me away from earth, I
pray thee leave them not orphaned and comfortless ; but
visit them by thy grace, and make them to live in the per-
fect light. Unite them to each other in the bonds of love.
I beseech thee. Lord, that none of them may be lost ; that I
may not be robbed of any one of them. Forgive my sins,
my ignorance, and my negligence towards them, inasmuch
as I have not done all that I could and ought to have done
for them. I have sinned. Saviour ; have pity on me. I
offer to thee, and cast upon thee my loved ones, for they are
my own soul. If it be thy will, for their sakes, to let me re-
main in the body. Physician Supreme, then heal this body ;
repair it ; for it is all broken to pieces. Grant us. Eternal
Father, O grant us thy heavenly benediction. Amen."

It is from the young Secretary, Barduccio, that we have
the account of Catharine's last days. The following letter
to his sister, containing that account, is given in a con-
densed form as to certain portions of it, and in the precise
words used by him in those parts of the narrative with
which we are most concerned.

Letter of Sgr. Barduccio di Canigiani to his sister, Maria
Petriboni, at the Convent of San Pietro di Monticelli, near

Florence: — In the name of Jesus Christ I received

your letter, and communicated its contents to my afflicted
friends. They thank you from the depths of their hearts.

Bardwcio's record of her last Days. 301

You desire to become acquainted with the details of the last
days of blessed Catharine. I can but very inadequately
perform the duty you require of me. I will, however,
relate what my eyes witnessed, and what my poor soul was
able to comprehend. From the first days of January, 1380,
a great change was perceived in her. She conceived a
kind of horror of all nourishment ; she could not even drink
a single drop of water to quench her burning thirst, though
her throat was continually so parched that she felt as if she
was breathing fire. Her life appeared to hang by a thread.
Nevertheless she seemed to be sustained by a secret,
ineffable joy, and continued to be as active and gay as
usual until about the 6th of March. On Sexagesima
Sunday, at the hour of vespers, she met with an accident
so grave that from that moment she never recovered her
wonted health, nor was ever free from pain." [The nature
of the accident referred to here, and in Catharine's letter
to Eaymond, can only be guessed. There are allusions to
her having fallen upon the steps of St. Peter's, when enter-
ing the church to pray. It is not improbable that, after a
day of unusual fatigue, she may have fainted at the portal,
or, striking her foot on some obstacle, her weakness may
have caused her to fall upon the hard pavement, thus
giving some wrench to the muscles and nerves, which
would account in part for the terrible sufferings of the
weeks which followed.] "She was carried home," con-
tinues Barduccio. "She suffered much that night and
the following Monday, when towards evening she revived
a little. That night, while dictating a letter to me, she
had so violent a crisis that we mourned her as dead. She
fainted, and remained a long time without any signs of

302 Catliarine of Siena.

life. Yet afterwards she arose, and appeared unchanged
and cheerful as ever. From that Sunday, however, new and
extraordinary bodily sufferings afflicted her. During Lent,
every morning after communion, her companions were
obliged to raise her from the floor, and carry her to bed as
if she were dead. Yet in the evening of each day she would
revive, and arise and walk to St. Peter's, a mile distant ;
and having remained for vespers, she would return quite
exhausted. Thus she continued until the third Sunday in
Lent. She then bowed beneath the weight of sufferings
which overwhelmed her, and the anguish which rent her
soul in view of the sins which were daily committed against
God, and of the perils and evils of the Church. She was
consumed by pain, physical and mental. In the midst of
this martyrdom, she said, ' These pains are physical, but they
are not natural. God allows the evil one to torment me thus.'
We believed that what she thus said was indeed the fact,
for her sufferings were inconceivable. It is not possible to
give you any idea of her patience. I will merely say that
at each renewal of the torture she joyfully raised her eyes
and hands to God, saying, ' Thanks be to thee, 0 ever-
living Spouse of my soul, who dost continually crown
thy poor handmaid with these new proofs of thy favour.' "
Here a portion of the deposition already cited of Friar
Bartholomew of Siena may with advantage be inserted.
This Bartholomew was the friend of her youth, who said,
" When I first made her acquaintance she was young, and
always wore a smiling countenance; I was also young,
but I never experienced any trouble in her society."
"When she was attacked by her last illness," he writes,
"I was prior of a convent of Siena. The Provincial of

Last Days. 303

my Order sent me on business to Rome. On my arrival
there I hastened to her residence, being utterly ignorant of
her state. I found her extended on planks, surrounded on
every side by other planks, so that she seemed to be in a
coffin. She was so emaciated that her bones could be easily
counted. She appeared withered, and her face worn and
sunk, and it no longer presented the same beauty as for-
merly. The sight broke my heart, and I asked her, amidst
my tears, ' Mother, how is it with you 1 ' When she recog-
nized me, she was anxious to testify her joy, but she could
not speak. I placed my ear close to her mouth, to be able
to hear her reply; she said, 'All is well, thanks to our
beloved Saviour.' I then told her of the motive of my
journey, and said to her, ' To-morrow will be the Passover
of our Lord, and I should like to celebrate it here, so as to
give the Eucharist to you and your spiritual children.' She
replied, 'Oh, would that our dear Saviour would permit me
to partake of it ! ' I left her, and on the following day I
returned to fulfil my promise. No one hoped to see her
able to go to Communion, for she had been for some days
incapable of making any movement. As we were preparingj
however, she arose suddenly, to the great joy of all, and
advanced towards the altar, where she remained till the con-
clusion. She was then carried back by the sisters to her
bed, where she lay motionless as before. I was, however,
permitted daily to converse with her during the few days I
remained in Rome. She prayed with unabated ardour for
the reformation and peace of the Church. 'Be assured,'
she said, 'if I die' (and this she repeated to many others
around her), ' the cause of my death is the zeal which
burns and consumes me for the Church. I suffer gladly,

304 Catharine of Siena.

and am ready to die for her, if need be.' The business
which brought me to Rome was concluded, but I con-
stantly resisted when pressed to return to Siena. I told
this to Catharine, and she said I must go back. ' How
can I go, and leave you in this extremity ? ' I asked ; ' if
I were far away, and were told of your condition, I would
leave all and make haste to come to you. No, I cannot
go without seeing you somewhat recovered, or at least
without having some better hope of your recovery.'
Catharine said, * My son, you know very well what a con-
solation it is to me to see the faces of those whom God
has given me, and whom I love in the truth. It would
be a great happiness to me if God would grant me Father
Raymond's presence as well as yours ; but it is not his
intention to grant me this ; and I desire not my will, but
his. You must go. You know that at Cologne there
will soon be a Chapter of your Order for the election of
a General Master. Father Raymond will be nominated ;
I wish you to be there with him, and to be obedient and
useful to him. I command you this, as far as I have
power.' I assured her that I would do whatever she com-
manded, but added, 'If it is God's will that I go, ask him to
give you better health before my departure.' She promised
me to do so, and when I returned on the following day, I
found her so calm and cheerful, that I drew near to her, full
of hope. She, who had hitherto- remained so immovable,
now stretched her arms towards me and embraced me so
aflFectionatcly that I could not help shedding tears of joy.
She then exhorted me to depart in peace. I left Rome.
A short time after I had returned to Siena, a letter in-
formed me that Catharine had quitted this life."

Last Days. 305

Barduccio thus proceeds : " She continued to be thus con-
sumed by suffering until the Sunday before Ascension Day.
Her body was then reduced to the state in which painters
represent death ; her limbs seemed to be those of a mere
skeleton covered with a transparent skin. Her strength was
so annihilated that she could not turn herself from one side
to the other. Her countenance however was beaming with
joy and angelic devotion. On Saturday night, about two
hours before dawn, she became so much worse that we
believed she was on the verge of her last moments. She
then called all her family and friends around her. . . She
was reclining on the shoulder of Alessia ; she tried to rise,
and with a little help remained in a sitting posture, though
still supported by Alessia. Someone had placed before her
a little table on which were some relics of saints, but she
did not look at them. Her gaze was fixed upon the Cross.
Then she accused herself, before him who died there, of all
her sins. ' Yes, I have sinned, 0 Eternal, I have miserably
offended thee by my negligence and ignorance and ingrati-
tude. Thou didst command me to seek thee in all things,
and to labour continually for thy honour and the good of
man; but I have avoided fatigue and labour-. . . I have
sought my own consolation . . . Alas ! thou didst charge
me with the care of souls, thou didst give me children whom
I was bound to love in a special manner, and lead them
to thee in the way of life. I have been weak towards
them. I have failed in solicitude for their interests ; I have
not succoured them as I ought by continual prayer or by
giving them a holy example and wise counsels. Ah me !
with how little respect have I received all thy benefits,
and the charge thou didst commit to me ; I did not gather

X

306 Catharine of Siena.

them with that desire and love which thou didst feel in
sending them to me. Thou, Lord, didst, in thine infinite
goodness, choose me in my tender infancy for thy spouse ;
but I have not been faithful enough to thee ; my memory
has not always been filled with thee, and with thy countless
benefits ; my understanding has not been solely directed to
comprehend thee, and my will has not been bent towards
loving thee with all my soul and strength.'

" After this, she asked pardon of us all. ' My beloved,'
she said, 'I have indeed hungered and thirsted for your
salvation. I dare not say the contrary. Nevertheless, I
may have been wanting to you in many things ; not only
have I not set before you the highest example, but in regard
to all your temporal wants, I have not been so faithful and
attentive as I ought to have been. I therefore implore of
you all, in general, pardon and indulgence, and I ask this
also of each one of 3^ou in particular. I entreat you most
humbly and earnestly to pursue to the end the path of virtue,
that you may be, as I have told you before, my joy and my
crown.' The grief which inundated my soul, (continues
Barduccio), as she spoke these words, hindered me from
hearing all she said ; her voice, moreover, was feeble, and
her sufferings so keen that she pronounced her words with
great pain and difficulty. She then addressed a few words
to Lucio, then to another, and to myself."

St. Antoninus adds to this : " Catharine, finding her end
approaching, pronounced a discourse to her spiritual sons
and daughters, exhorting them to brotherly love, and
giving them also certain rules for advancing in the way
of the Lord. And, first (she told them), that anj'one who
desired to be truly the servant of God, and wished really

Last Days. 307

to possess him, must strip his heart of all selfish love of
human creatures, and with a simple and entire heart must
approach God. Secondly, that no soul can arrive at such a
state without the medium of prayer, founded on humility ;
that no one should have any confidence in his own works,
but acknowledging himself to be nothing, should commit
himself entirely to the keeping and leading of God. She
asserted that through prayer all virtues progress and are
invigorated, whilst without it they are weakened. Thirdly,
that in order to attain to purity of conscience, it is necessary
to abstain from all rash judgments and evil speaking against
our neighbours ; that we must neither condemn nor despise
any creature, even if it be the case of one whom we know
to be guilty and vile, but to bear with him, and pray for
him, because there is no one, however sinful, who may not
amend his life. Fourthly, that we must exercise a perfect
trust in the providence of God, knowing that all things that
happen to us, through his divine providence, spring, not
from his ill will to his creatures, but from his infinite love
for them."

Catharine had just ceased speaking, Avhen Stephen
entered the room. He had been detained at Siena. One
evening, he narrates, as he was praying in the Oratory of
the Hospice della Scala, he heard a voice which said,
"Make haste, and go to Eome. She, to whom you owe
your soul, is dying." He dared not resist the impression
thus made on him, and in all haste set out for Rome.
When Catharine saw him, she said, " My Stephen, I thank
God that you have come. His mercy will guide ijou also
in the way of salvation." She then indicated to him her
wish that he should, after her death, enter the Order of

X2

308 Cathanne of Siena.

the Carthusians. She gave several other particular instruc-
tions to those around her. The friars who were present she
recommended to place themselves under the direction of
Father Raymond, as being a prudent and single-hearted man.
" Apply to him," she said, *' in your difficulties, and tell him,
from me, never to be remiss, and never to fear, whatever
may befall him." She appointed Alessia to be her successor
over the household of the Mantellatas, who were so endeared
to her by companionship in all her past labours. Lastly
she turned to her beloved mother, who, bent with age and
grief, stood motionless on one side by the pillow of her
child, while Alessia on the other side supported her droop-
ing head. Catharine asked Lapa to stoop down and kiss
her, entreating her to give her her blessing. " Pardon my
faults towards yourself, my best beloved," she said, "and
give me your blessing." Barduccio continues, " I would
that you had seen with what respect and humility she
repeatedly asked the benediction of her aged mother, while
that mother in return commended herself to the prayers of
her daughter, and besought her to obtain for her the grace
not to offend God by the bitterness of her grief. Catharine
again prayed aloud for us all, and so tender and humble were
her words, that we thought our hearts would cleave asunder."
But this was not yet the end. The extraordinary
vitality she possessed was manifested by the sudden and
almost incredible exertions she made from time to time,
and almost to the last ; and it now seemed to resist all
the torture, and natural exhaustion of her worn-out frame.
She lingered yet a few days. Again, in the early morn-
ing of a day in the last week of April, her little remain-
ing strength seemed suddenly and altogether to forsake

Last Conflict. 309

her. She lay perfectly motionless, giving no perceptible
sign of life, and it was believed for a time that her spirit
had fled at last. " It was, therefore, deemed expedient,"
says Barduccio, " to give her extreme unction, and the
Abbot of St. Antimius hastened to administer it, as she
seemed already bereft of all consciousness. After the ap-
plication of this sacrament, a change came over her, and it
now seemed, bj'' the expression of her countenance and the
movements of her arms, that she was sustaining a terrible
assault from Satan."- Several witnesses record this last sore
conflict. When Catharine woke up from this temporary
trance, a fever flush was on her face, and her mind was
wandering. The poor brain was haunted with dark images,
and the humble soul was plunged in deep darkness. She
was to drink of that mysterious cup of anguish which is
sometimes held to the lips of God's most faithful servants
at the very moment when they are about to enter the
valley of the shadow of death ; a cup so bitter that many a
trembling heart, looking forward to that hour, and know-
ing the cruelty of the enemy of souls, has cried out : " If it
be possible, let it pass from me." Those around her looked
on in silent awe, wholly unable to bring her any help or
comfort ; for she heard nothing that was spoken by
human lips. She seemed to be listening with terror to
some dark and honible accusation. The nature and
agony of that conflict, which lasted several hours, could
only be guessed by her words and gestures. Sometimes
she maintained silence, as if intently listening ; some-
times she replied, but with a wild and wandering and
troubled utterance. Sometimes, by a great effort, she
raised herself a little, and seemed to answer back with

310 Catharine of Siena.

scorn what she had heard. She gesticulated, as if pleading
in agony her own cause ; sometimes her look became de-
fiant ; then again she would smile, and again seemed to be
filled with indignation. That countenance which her com-
panions had been used to see lit up with loving smiles, and
full of serenity and holy joy, was now disfigured with the
terror and anguish of that conflict which tests to the utmost
the spiritual fibre of the human being — even of the holiest
— when summoned to wrestle in the final death-grip with
the spirit of evil, " the accuser of the brethren." Then,
after maintaining a longer silence, she smiled and said dis-
tinctly, " No, never ! never for vain-glory, but for the
honour and glory of God." One of the accusations heard
by her soul in that conflict seems to have been that she
had sought her own glory and had loved the praise of men.
"^Many persons," wrote Eaymond, on receiving this ac-
count, "believed that she had courted praise, or at least
enjoyed it, and for this reason took a pleasure in appearing
in public. Some said, ' She ought to remain in her house,
if she desires to serve God.' And this was her response,
when she was dying, to those reproaches, the echoes of which
tormented her fevered brain when thus laid low : ' No,
never for vain-glory, but for the honour and glory of God.' "
Barduccio continues : " Catharine then began to repeat
the words, ' Peccavi, Domine, miserere mei ' (Lord, I
have sinned; have mercy on me). She repeated them
fifty or sixty times, raising her wasted right hand, which
each time dropped suddenly again through weakness.
Looking around her, she would say also, ' Saints of God,
have pity on me ! ' After a time, as we were watching
her, the expression of her countenance suddenly changed

C&nsummatum est. 311

and became radiant like that of a seraph. Her eyes, which
had been obscured with tears, were now lighted up with
an inexpressible joy. She seemed to come forth, trans-
figured, from a profound abyss of darkness ; and that sight
lightened the heavy burden of grief which had weighed
upon us. She then again offered up prayer for those
whom God had given her to love in a special manner,
making use of the words of our Lord, when he commended
his disciples to his Father : ' I pray for them whom thou
hast given me ; for they are thine. And now I am no
more in the world ; but these are in the world, and I come
to thee. Holy, father, keep through thine own name those
whom thou hast given me, that they may be one. I pray
not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but
that thou shouldest keep them from the evil. Sanctify
them through thy truth ; thy word is truth.' Finally, she
blessed us all, and hailed that supreme moment of life which
she had so much desired, pronouncing these words : " Yes,
Lord, thou callest me, and I go to thee ; I go — not on account
of my merits, hut solely on account of thy mercies, and that
mercy I implore in the name, 0 Jesus, of thy precious
blood.' She breathed forth several times the words, '0
precious Saviour, O precious blood ! ' She then said,
' Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,' and with a
countenance radiant as an angel's, she bowed her head and
died."

Catharine died at six o'clock on the evening of Sunday,
the 29th of April, 1380, at the age of thirty-three years.
It was the festival of St. Peter Martyr, the courageous
Dominican, who, after a long apostolic career, fell under
the blows of assassins, and when dying wrote upon the

312 Catharine of Siena.

ground with the blood that flowed from his wounds, the
first words of the Credo, " I believe in God."

A Roman lady of high rank, called Semia, had a vision,
it was said, on the night after Catharine's death. She
saw her ascending a golden staircase into heaven, and the
Son of Man approaching to greet her by name. She did
not know that Catharine was dead ; but, full of this vision,
she ran early the next morning to the house in the street
of Santa Chiara, and knocked at the door ; but no one
answered. *' The neighbours informed her that Catharine
had been visiting the churches, and that there was no one
there ; for those within, who were mourning her, concealed
her death, being desirous that the rumour should not get
abroad too soon, as they would not be able tranquilly
to discuss what was best to be done. It was decided
that on the morrow the body of Catharine should be
carried to the church of the Preaching Friars, called the
church of the Minerva." Stephen says, evidently with
an affectionate pride mingling with his reverence for his
beloved mistress, " I carried her body with my own hands
to the church of the Minerva, where it was deposited in a
coffin or chest of cypress wood." As soon as the corpse of
Catherine had been borne to the church, the whole city of
Rome became aware of her death, and a multitude collected
from every side. "The populace moved forward like
turbulent waves, hoping to be allowed to touch her gar-
ments." Her disciples, fearing for the safety of the be-
loved body, placed it behind the grate of the chapel of
St, Dominic. She lay with her hands crossed on her
breast, and a smile of infinite peace on her face. She
was clothed in a new white robe and veil, and the dear

Incidents after her Death. 313

old, worn Dominican cloak was wrapped around her. Her
followers by turns kept vigil night and day around her.
Semia,the Roman lady just mentioned, seeing the vast crowd,
asked its cause, and when she knew that Catharine was dead,
she forced her way, sobbing, to the place. She said to the
friends around, " How cruel of you to conceal from me the
death of my spiritual mother whom I loved so much! Why
did you not summon me 1 " While they were making their
excuses she inquired at what time Catharine died. " About
the sixth hour," they replied, " she gave up her soul to her
Creator." "I saw her, I saw her!" cried Semia; and she
recounted the vision to the Mantellatas, who wei'e shielding
the corpse by their presence.

So great a crowd pressed daily into the church during
the three days that the body remained there, that it was
necessary to place guards and sentinels around and in-
side the building. On the third day a celebrated Doctor
of Theology ascended the pulpit, intending to preach her
funeral sermon ; but it was impossible to obtain suffi-
cient calm to allow him to proceed. At last he pro-
nounced, as audibly as he could, the words, "This holy
one has no need of our preaching and eulogy ; she her-
self speaks, and her life is her eulogy;" and he came
down from the pulpit, not even having begun his dis-
course. Friar William of England left his retreat at Lec-
ceto to go to Siena when the news of Catharine's death
had reached that city, and preached a sermon to a great
multitude who held her name in honour. "It is with
hymns of joy," he said, "and not with tears, that we
should celebrate the death of Catharine." " Some days
after her death," says Bartholomew of Siena, in his

314 CatJiarine of Siena.

deposition, " a man of exalted piety, named John of Pisa,
came very early in the morning and knocked at my door.
I opened it, and he said to me, 'Catharine of Siena is
coming.' ' How can she come ? ' I asked, * for she is dead.'
• You will see her,' he replied, and vanished so quickly that
I could not call him back. One Sunday after this, after
having recited the midnight office, I lay down to take a
little repose, when, towards daylight, I saw, in a cloudless
sky, a multitude of blessed spirits advancing in procession.
They were clothed in white, and they sang sacred hymns,
the Kijrie Eleison and Gloria in Excelsis, In the centre of the
procession was Catharine. She was clad like the angels,
and she resembled the Saviour. In her hand she bore a
palm-branch, her head was inclined, and her eyes cast
down. I prayed that God would send me the comfort of
beholding her countenance. I was heard ; she raised her
head and looked at me with the ineffable smile which
always expressed the joy of her soul. The procession
then resumed its onward march, continuing the heavenly
chants."

The republic of Siena having expressed, by a deputa-
tion of its citizens to the lioman Pontiff, its jealousy of
the honour of the possession of the body of the saint,
and its desire to establish a monument to her in her
native city, the Pope ordained the " pious mutilation,"
which cannot be contemplated without a feeling of pain.
The head of the poor saint was severed from the body,
and with great ceremony was presented in a coffer to the
ambassadors of the city of Siena. It was a year after
her death that the coveted relic was conveyed to her
native city.

Honours paid io her Merrmy. 315

Two monks of the church of the Minerva carried the
treasure. The entrance into Siena resembled a popular
triumph. The Bishop had ordained that a solemn pro-
cession should leave the city and go forward a mile on the
road towards Rome, in order to meet those who bore the
relic. The streets of Catharine's native city, so far from
having the appearance of mourning, were decked as if for a
festival. It was the month of May, and the city gates were
adorned with arches of flowers ; flowers also were strewn
in the streets ; the whole population, joyous and in holiday
attire, stood waiting on the ramparts and the slopes leading
down from the city ; the houses were hung with scarves and
banners, and leafy garlands ; the bells of the churches rang
out as if for a holiday. The procession was headed by the
different guilds and associations of workmen. Then fol-
lowed the representatives of the different monastic orders,
singing psalms of praise ; after this came the clergy, carry-
ing tapers. The head of the procession, having encountered
the messengers bearing the relic on the road from Rome,
turned with them, and the long procession re-entered
the city. Close around the sacred remains walked the
relations and disciples of Catharine. First among the
former was seen the venerable Lapa, now in her eightieth
year. (Lapa died at the age of ninety.) She leaned upon
the arm of Alessia. As she passed, the people saluted
her — sometimes with tears, sometimes with joyful words
of congratulation. " How happy art thou !" they said, " to
witness thus the recognition by the Republic of thy sainted
daughter." But Lapa wept. It was then that she repeated
her regret at having survived so many of her loved ones.
" It is only I," she said, " who cannot die. It seems as if

316 CatJiarine of Siena.

God had riveted my soul to my body." The magistrates
and gonfaloniers of the city followed the clergy in the pro-
cession, and, finally, the flower of the nobility of Tuscany
closed the rear of this corUge of honour. The procession
having reached the gates of the old church of St. Dominic,
so endeared to Catharine in her childhood and youth,
Stephen, Father Raymond, and the brothers and sisters of
St. Dominic who were waiting there, received the precious
relic and placed it in the church. The people continued
during the day to commemorate her by religious services
and social assonblies.

The custom has been maintained to the present day of
having an annual festival in the month of May on the
feast of St. Catharine, at which a banquet is prepared for
the poor and needy of the city and its neighbourhood.
It was at first a commemoration of a religious character,
concluded by an address given by an appointed speaker
upon the life and virtues of the saint ; but the custom
has degenerated into a mere feast, at Avhich very little
real appreciation of the character of Catharine is observ-
able. Efforts have been made, however, within the last
twenty years in Italy to revive the memory of her in a
rational and useful manner, so that the facts of her life
and the excellence of her character may be made promi-
nent, in place of those childish traditions and superstitions
connected with her name which ai'e now current.

We may follow briefly the history of a few of the friends
of Catharine of whom we know anything after her death.

Barduccio, whom she specially loved on account of the
singular purity of his character, was attacked a few weeks
after her death with disease of the lungs. It was evident

Stephen in Old Age. 317

that he would never recover ; and Alessia and others coun-
selled him to leave Eome, as the climate was hurtful to
him. He went to Siena, where he died in a few months,
at the age of twenty-three.

Stephen entered the Order of the Carthusians, and be-
came prior of a large convent at Milan, and the active
visitor of other convents of his order. In his old age he
retired to Pontignano, at the foot of his beloved hills of
Siena. He transcribed the life of Catharine in Latin and
Italian. Several copies of these biographies were made.
One was sent by request to the King of Hungary, another
to the King of England ; others to various potentates.

One of his last acts was to write the appendix, already
quoted, to the record of Father Eaymond, at the time when
the question arose of Catharine's canonization. He thus con-
cludes his testimony : "Here, then, is my testimony to the
life of Catharine of Siena. I have written it without re-
search, and in the simplicity of my heart, though oppressed
with physical sufferings and numerous occupations. You re-
quired of me to be truthful in all that I should advance, and
I affirm in sincerity and quietness of conscience that I have
added nothing to the truth. I know that a false tongue slays
the soul, and that God has no need of our exaggerations. I
know also that it is not permitted to do evil that good maj'
come. Be persuaded, therefore, that I have told the truth.
I attest it in the presence of the Omniscient, to whom be all
praise and glory for ever and ever. This declaration has
been written by two notaries in the presence of numerous
witnesses. We have appended to it the great seal of our
convent in order to satisfy your request." Stephen died in
1424. It is said of him, that when he was an aged man it

318 Catharine of Siena.

yvsLS his constant delight, in his walks with his friars, to
speak of Catharine. " He recalled the smallest details of
her life ; and on one occasion, at the sudden remembrance
of some little thing illustrative of her loving kindness and
her sufferings, he burst into tears. It seemed as if his heart
would break; the brothers were obliged to support the old
man to a seat, in an open meadow, where a soft wind was
blowing. He here recovered his equanimity after a time."^

The young nobleman, Neri di Landoccio, Catharine's
ambassador to Naples, did not return to Rome before her
death. He afterwards wrote out Catharine's book, and
collected her letters. He gave up all his wealth and pos-
sessions, and retired to a life of seclusion and study.

Alessia only survived her beloved fnend and mistress a
year or two, leaving the guardianship of the mystic family
to Lisa, the sister of Catharine.

Certain French writers have attributed the scandalous
division in the Church to Catharine's influence. It was
she who persuaded Gregory XI. to return to Eome, and
the Schism, they assert, was a consequence of that return.
It is easy, however, to see that the Schism was the
natural consequence of the long voluntary expatriation of
the Popes, and their residence at Avignon. These were,
as we have already seen, the causes to a great extent of
the political and social miseries of Italy in the fourteenth
century. The cardinals, almost all French, never ceased
after the election of Urban VI. to long for the return to
their native land, and resented the efforts of the newly
elected Italian Pope to reform the morals of the clergy.

' Bollandus, p. 971.

The End of the Schism. 319

Their last resource, as we have also seen, was the election
of a rival Pope, a Frenchman, and one who would restore
to them the delights of Avignon. The Schism lasted until
the Council of Constance in 1417. The restoration of the
unity of the Church was at that time achieved in a great
measure through the magnanimity of Gregory XII. and
the efforts of the Cardinal of Eagusa. Angelo Corrario
who was afterwards elected by the Roman Church as
Gregory XII., was Archbishop of Venice and Patriarch of
Constantinople at the time of the election of Urban VI.
He was an intimate friend and ally of Catharine.^ She
wrote to him urgently on the great subject she had at
heart — the reformation of the Church — beseeching him to
elect as pastors only men of pure and honourable lives,
and to be fearless in rebuking vice. He held her in such
veneration that, on receiving the news of her death, he
sent a messenger to Rome to beg to be allowed the posses-
sion of some relic of her. This was granted to him, and
the relic was found after his death suspended round his
neck. It is not unnatural to suppose that her ardent
counsels to him concerning contempt for this world and
its honours, dwelt in his mind, and that his magnanimous
action at the time of the Council of Constance may to
some extent have been due to her living influence and the
memory of her advice. The Cardinal of Ragusa had also
been a friend of Catharine. He frequently sought her
counsels. He and others of her disciples never ceased to
labour for the destruction of the Schism.

Gregory XII., according to all historians a learned and

1 See Letter No. 341, edition Gigli.

320 Catharine of Siena.

pious man, voluntarily resigned the Papacy in 1415, so that
there might again be only one Pope. An Italian Pope was
elected, and it was agreed by the French supporters of
the Papacy of Avignon, that that city should henceforth be
abandoned by the Papal Court, which should be perma-
nently re-established at Eome. Thus discord ceased, and
unity was restored to the Church. But a mere outward
unity, such as this, would have failed to satisfy Catharine,
had she lived to see it realized. The true " unity of the
spirit, in the bond of peace and righteousness of life," a
unity based upon a living and fruitful faith in Christ
crucified, is what she would have desired and laboured for
with the unceasing activity and fervour which characterized
her through life ; and more eagerly than ever, in the midst
of increasing corruptions in faith and practice, would she
have looked onward to that reformation of which she spoke
to her friends at Pisa, when she foretold : " After these
tribulations God will purify his Church by means unknown
to man ; he will revive the souls of his elect, and the refor-
mation of the Church will be so beautiful that the prospect
of it fills my soul with joy."

One word concerning some of the contemporaries of
Catharine who were not distinguished as those just men-
tioned for virtue or piety. John Hawkwood, the warlike
chieftain, whose fame as a soldier lives to this day, died
in Tuscany in 1394 of malaria fever, worn out by cam-
paigning and exposure. The Florentine republic, which
he had continued to serve, caused him to be buried with
honours in the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, and
an equestrian statue, which they elevated to his honour,
may there be seen to this day.

Treachery of Galeazzo Fisconfi. 321

Bernabos Visconti, the cruel and detested Duke of Milan,
and tyrant of Lombardy, continued successfully in his
course of rapacity and self-aggrandizement until the year
1 385. He had thirty-three children, of whom all but five
Avere bastards. He continued to enrich himself by extor-
tions and intolerable taxes imposed on his subjects, " His
brutal pride, his transports of anger, his cruelties and his
profligacy, had brought upon him the universal contempt
and hatred of the Italian people." He found himself more
secure in his dominions, and more at peace outwardly
with neighbouring states in this year than he had ever
been in the course of his life. But he was shortly to
be called to judgment. John Galeazzo Visconti, his
nephew, was as ambitious and unscrupulous as himself.
He had determined to possess himself of his uncle's vast
estates and wealth. In order to carry out his plan, arti-
fice was necessary. Galeazzo suddenly appeared before
the world in a new character. Having been till now a
soldier and a worldling, he seemed to become a penitent
and a fanatic ; he frequented the shrines and churches all
day long ; he wore a coarse penitential garment, and
walked with his eyes cast down. He was surrounded
with a numerous guard, all wearing the aspect of peni-
tents, his pretext for this being that he was afflicted with a
nervous fear of assassination. He affected great timidity
and a superstitious dread of death, and would start at
every sound. His uncle regarded all this with scorn, and
spoke of his nephew as a lunatic whose worldly career must
now be regarded as closed. Galeazzo then had it pro-
claimed that he intended to visit a miraculous image of
the Virgin at Varese on Lago Maggiore. He set out from

Y

322 Catharine of Siena.

his ducal palace at Pavia, with a numerous escort, on
this pious pilgrimage. On the evening of the 6th of May
the troop approached Milan. Bernabos came forth to
greet his nephew; he rode out from the Vercellina gate,
on a mule, unaccompanied. He had been warned by a
physician of Milan that treachery awaited him; but he
replied to the warning with the scorn of one who has
passed a long life of unchecked and successful villany.
" But the time had come when God was about to call to
account this detestable man, laden with so many crimes." ^
His nephew approached and embraced him tenderly, and
then turning to his followers, he suddenly threw off the
mask of the meek pilgrim, and pronounced, in the rude
German which was at that time the military language of all
Europe, the one word, "Arrest!" In a moment Bernabos
was surrounded by armed men ; one seized the bridle of
his mule, another cut the belt of his sword, and another
bound his hands behind his back. In vain the betrayed
man cried out against the treachery of Galeazzo to his own
kinsman, his own flesh and blood. Galeazzo marched into
Milan and took possession. Not a voice was raised on
behalf of Bernabos, who was conducted, bound and blind-
folded, to the dungeon of the castle of Trezzo, which he
himself had built, and in which many victims of his cruelty
had died a violent or a lingering death. The sons of Ber-
nabos failed to bring him any aid. No one arose for his
defence. The world was glad to forget him ; his own
relations even ceased to mention his name. " He had
leisure," says Muratori, " for meditation, in the prison of

^ Muratori, Lib. xii., p. 667.

Death of Bernabos Visconti. 323

Trezzo, on the instability of human greatness." Three
times, at intervals, poison was administered to him ; but
his robust frame resisted its effects to such a degree that it
did not prove fatal, but only produced the most insupport-
able bodily anguish. Thus, for seven months, he lived,
or rather died, a long, lingering, and horrible death, alone,
with no one to minister to the wants of his tortured body,
or to speak to him a word of hope in God. Catharine had
written to him, a few years before, faithful and earnest
letters, full of love and pity for the sinner whom she
addressed, and whose evil doing she rebuked with horror.
" Do not suppose," she wrote, " that because we see no
sign in this life that God's eye is upon us, he will not one
day visit our offences. When the soul is leaving the body,
it will then be fully proved that God has seen all. . . .
The Sovereign Judge never leaves unpunished the in-
justices of man, which are visited in the place and at the
time appointed by him ; above all at the moment of death,
when the veil which shrouds our vision is torn asunder —
then all is clearly seen." She concluded her stern rebukes
and warnings with words of pleading and charity : " 0 !
resist not the Spirit of God which is calling you. Think,
0, think that the blood and tears of the Divine Son are able
to cleanse you from head to foot. Despise not this offer of
grace. Behold how God loves you ! No tongue can tell,
no heart can conceive, the mercy and grace which viH be
granted to you, if you will but dispose yourself to rid your
soul of mortal sin. Humble yourself under the mighty
hand of God, and believe in Jesus crucified for you." It
was believed that the miserable man retained in his heart
some echo of these words, written by one whose hope and

y2

324 Catharine of Siena.

pity for sinners were known to be illimitable, and whose name
had then been, for five years, revered as that of a prophet
acquainted with the secrets of God. For it was told of him
at the last, and to the surprise of all, "Behold he prayeth ! "
Worn out and dying, unclean and uncared for, the forlorn
creature dragged himself and his chains, day by day, from
his pallet to the grating of his cell, where a dim ray from
without fell upon his unshorn and haggard face ; and
clutching, with foul and bony fingers the bars of his window,
he remained, hour after hour, and day after day, gasping
forth in his agony, without ceasing, the words, " Cor con-
tritum et humiliatum, Deus non despicies" — " A broken and
a contrite heart, 0 God, thou wilt not despise. "^ He died
on the 18th of December, 1385, at the age of sixty -four.

In the course of this narrative, the letters of Catharine,
which have been quoted in order to illustrate her public
career, are for the most part those addressed to great
people, princes and potentates, ecclesiastical and tem-
poral. It must not be supposed, however, that her cor-
respondence was wholly, or even chiefly, with persons of
high rank or authority ; the greater number of them are
addressed to humbler persons. Many are written to mem-
bers of her own family, which was a very large one ; a great
number to men and women at the heads of convents or
religious societies; others are addressed to persons with-
out name, who were in some kind of trouble and greatly
in need of a friend. The following list will give some
idea of the extent and variety of her correspondence : —

1 Muratori, Lib. xii., p. 669 ; and notes of P. Burlamacohi on the
" Letters of St. Catharine."

Variety of her Correspondence. 325

Twonty-four letters to Master Pipino, a tailor of Florence,
and Agnesa his wife. (These were probably the honour-
able citizens who sheltered her during the revolution, when
it was deemed unsafe by others to receive her into their
houses). A letter to the keeper of the prisons (stinche) at
Florence. To a harness-maker of Lucca. To the Elders
of Lucca. To Master Francis, physician to the Pope.
Five letters to Peter Gambiacorti, Signore of Pisa, and
his family. To Master Cristofero G-ana, who had asked
her to help him to choose a wife. Many letters to Alessia
dei Sarracini, her most dear and intimate friend. To
Laurencio di Pino, Jurisconsult and Professor of Law at
the University of Bologna. To her three brothers settled
as wool-dyers at Florence. (In one of these letters she
begs them to be more loving to their mother, Lapa, and to
repay to her some money which she had lent them). Many
letters to Stephen, and to Neri di Landoccio. To a linen-
weaver at Florence. To a currier named Perotti and
to Lippa his wife, at Lucca. To Sabri, a goldsmith at
Siena. To an abominably profligate man, name not
mentioned. To several prisoners at Siena. To the Jew
Consiglio, a usurer, who had settled in Siena and made
so large a fortune that the magistrates of the city thought
it right to institute an inquiry into the means by which
he had amassed it. Many letters addressed to the magis-
trates of Siena and of Lucca ; to the gonfaloniers of
Perugia, of Florence, and of Rome. To various citizens
of Siena, thirty-four letters. To Brothers of St. Dominic,
and to Mantellatas, fifty-five letters. A letter to her
little niece Jenny ; one to a great prelate not named ;
and one to a " Lady who was always murmuring." One

326 Cathaiine of Siena.

of the most remarkable of her letters, in respect of dignity
of style, is that which she addressed to the magistrates of
Siena when they complained of the length of her visit to
the aristocratic family of the Salimbeni, in the neighbour-
hood of that city. She writes : " In reply, dear Brothers
and Signors, to the letter which Thomas di Guelfuccio
has brought me from you, I desire to thank you for the
kindness which you manifest towards your fellow-citizens,
and towards myself in particular, who am so little worthy.
You desire my return. I do not act on my own impulse,
but I leave it to God to order my ways ; and so soon as
the Holy Spirit permits me to obey your orders, I will bow
my head, and go wherever it is your good pleasure that I
should go ; but I shall always consider the will of God
before that of men. At the present moment I see it not to
be possible for me to return, because it is necessary that I
should conclude an important business concerning the
convent of St. Agnes, and that I should confer with the
nephews of Monsignore Spinello, in order to bring about
the reconciliation of the sons of Lorenzo. A long time has
elapsed since you yourselves took up this affair, and as
yet nothing has been accomplished. I do not wish that,
through any negligence of mine, or through my sudden
departure, the matter should be postponed. I should fear
thus to displease God. Be assured I will return as soon
as God's work is completed. Have patience, therefore,
gentlemen — you and my other fellow-citizens. Do not
open your hearts to all the fancies suggested by the evil
one, who only desires to hinder every good work for
the honour of God, the salvation of souls, and your own
peace. I regret the trouble which my fellow-citizens

Extracts from her Letters. 327

give themselves in their judgments of me. It appears as
though they had no better occupation in life than to speak
ill of me and my companions. For myself they are right,
for I have faults enough ; but for those who are with me,
they are wrong. We shall conquer, however, by patience.
Patience is never conquered ; she is alwaj'-s victorious, and
ever remains at last mistress of the position. What really
grieves me is that the darts flung after us fall back again
upon those who fling them. No more. May you rest in the
holy remembrance of God. —Catharine." One more cita-
tion only shall be given, as characteristic of her tender and
liberal nature. Fra Giusto, prior of the convent of Mon-
toliveto, had had scruples about receiving into his com-
munity a certain gentle young friend of Catharine, because
■ he was the illegitimate and disowned son of a dissolute
man. Catharine writes : " I pray you, dear father, never
to regard anyone in the light of any outward circumstances,
or of any greatness or baseness of birth which he may
possess. Question not if such an one be legitimately or
illegitimately born. The Son of God, in whose steps you
are bound to follow, never discarded anyone on account of
his outward condition, were he a just man or a criminal ;
but every reasonable creature desiring to flee from siu

was and is acceptable to him Let this youth

be born as he may, God no more despises the soul of
one born in sin, than he does the soul of one born in
wedlock. It is good and sincere desires alone which are
regarded by our God ; and, therefore, I pray and demand
that you receive kindly this tender plant who desires to
be planted in your garden, for he has a good will and holy
desires. ... I have wondered exceedingly at your refusal

328 Catharine of Siena.

of him. Perhaps he who brought the message made some
mistake. But now I pray you, in the name of Christ
crucified, to dispose yourself to receive him heartily, for he
is a good boy ; if he had not been so, I would not have sent
him to you." On another occasion she wrote to an Abbot
of Montoliveto, beseeching, or rather commanding, him to
receive again a young monk who had run away, and now
penitently desired to return.

It must not be supposed that the many letters addressed
by her to persons in a humble sphere of life were such as we,
in modern times, may write very many of in a day, on com-
mon matters of business. The letters to her friends who
were artisans or tradesmen of Florence and Siena are in
general very long and earnest arguments upon the Christian
life, and full of affectionate counsels concerning the state
and condition of the individual addressed, and of his family.
She wrote to them in the same terras as she wrote to
Kings, Cardinals, and Popes — with reverence and con-
siderateness, combined with courageous truthfulness, and,
when necessary, with severity, and addressing them alike
as " most dear and honoured father in Christ." She was a
true republican, in the sense that in her dealings with men
as fellow-sinners and fellow-Christians she recognized no
diflFercnces of rank.

It is not difficult to imagine what were the faults in
Catharine's character, and the natural tendencies against
which she, most probably all her life, had to contend.
Her zeal and fire would naturally carry her on to im-
patience; and it must have been difficult for her to bear
with equanimity the delays and checks induced by the
stumblings and errors of others which so often postponed

The Faults in her Character. 329

or injured the work she had at heart. It is evident also
that her genius for command may have tempted her to
exercise an imperious self-will, and to rule in too despotic
a manner. Again, there are evidences that at times, when
the strong claims of active duty were relaxed, she incurred
a danger of being carried away by excess of feeling, in the
exaltation of her spirit, and the intense communion of her
soul with the unseen. This latter danger was controlled,
however, by the deep, strong, human affection which ever
impelled her to impart to others all that she had received
of God, and to see in every human being who needed help
the image of him whom her soul adored. Impatience and
impetuosity of will were corrected — as indeed every other
fault of character can alone be corrected — by the constant
exercise of the virtues which balanced and controlled them,
hope, patience, faith, and the renunciation of self. Towards
the end of her life it is observable that she dwelt very
strongly and constantly on the virtue of patience — that
virtue of which no doubt she had felt the deficiency in
herself, and which she had resolutely striven to possess.
Patience, she thought, was the great lesson, above all
others, which God is always teaching his children. She
calls it the " touchstone of all the virtues."

The canonization of Catharine took place in 1461.
The proceedings had first been instituted, and witnesses
had begun to be questioned, in 1402, by Gregory XII.
But the troubles of his times in connection with the
Schism obliged him to postpone these preliminaries; and it
fell to the lot of Eneas Silvius, a Sienese, who was elevated
to the papacy as Pius II., to place her name on the
calendar of the saints. There is a touch of nature in

330 Catharive of Siena.

the otherwise formal Bull of Canonization published by
him. "This affair has been deferred," he says, "until
our time, and the canonization of our countrywoman has
been referred to us. The sanctity of the virgin of Siena
shall be proclaimed by a native of Siena ; and we confess
that in this we experience a sensible consolation. We
should have contemplated in any case with jo}' the
virtues, the genius, the greatness of soul, the strength
and fortitude of this blessed Catharine ; but we do so all
the more because she, like ourselves, first saw the light
in the city of Siena."

Cardinal Ximenes caused the letters of Catharine to be
translated into Spanish about the year 1450, Spain having,
up to that time, refused, in its partisanship for Clement,
to recognize the merits of the champion of Urban VI.

Catharine's letters only very rarely contain any allusions
to her own outward history, although they reveal abundantly
the character of her mind. They are for the most part
purely spiritual ; and when she refers to any contemporary
event, it is from the lofty view of the Christian, who regards
more the spirit than the external movements of the times
in which she is placed. It is with difficulty that we are
able to trace in them any clear outline even of her own
outward relations with the Church and with her personal
friends and contemporaries, though we see in them clearly
the travail of her soul for all these, and her indefatigable
zeal in labouring to win men to Christ.

I have accomplished my task, of writing the story of
the life of Catharine of Siena. Very imperfectly, I am
too well aware, has it been done ; yet I conclude with the
hope that the record may carry a message to the hearts

Mediceval Biographies of the Saints. 331

of many who read it, and may be the means of reviving the
strong and loving influence of this woman, who lived five
hundred years ago, so that it may he said concerning her,
even now, " she being dead, yet speaketh." It is no easy
task, looking back through the mists of ages, to discover
athwart the medium of the apotheoses of the saint which
are presented to us by Catholic writers as biography, the
real woman, such as she was in her true character. The
greatest of the saints were flesh and blood like ourselves ;
yet not so, by any means, are the}'' represented by the
mediaeval hagiologist. The memoir by Father Raymond
gives us the internal life of Catharine as faithfully as he
was able to render it ; but her wonderful outward life and
public career are almost entirely left out of his record.
When he mentions any part of these, he does so only
parenthetically, and in order to illustrate the several virtues
which formed, as he says, " her aureole." The formality of
style usual in his time leads him to head his various cliapters
according to the different graces in which she excelled.
One is headed "Her Patience;" another "Her Austerities;"
another "Her Sighs for Death," &c. A more wearisome
and uninteresting memoir could hardly be imagined of a
very original and highly gifted person, whose life was
like a beautiful drama, ever widening, and increasing in
solemnity and fulness of incident to the end. And yet
conscience reproaches me for a species of ingratitude in
pronouncing this judgment of Raymond's work; for to
him, above all others, are we indebted for the kei/ to
both her inward and outward life ; and from him alone,
her intimate friend and companion, do we gather some
of the most touching incidents and the most characteristic

332 Catharine of Siena.

traits. He rarely condescends, however, to give a plain
statement of any of the facts of her life. For example, he
never states historically that she went to Florence, or why.
He merely says, in different parts of his book, " When we
were at Florence, she did or said so and so;" and then calls
upon the reader to admire the great humility or the super-
human patience of the saint. He very rarely gives a date.
There are, it may be said, three dates in the whole course
of the book, which come to the eager student of her active
life with a sense of surprise and relief, as a sign-post would
to a traveller after a hundred miles of vague wandering
through a country without roads. All the other early bio-
graphies of Catharine are based upon that of Kaymond, with
little variation. It may be truly said that these biogi-aphers
unconsciously represented Catharine in a form which as
nearly resembled the real woman as the figures on the
painted windows of old churches resemble the flesh and
blood originals. To describe human enthusiasm in high and
passionate action requires a gift which few writers have
possessed. Instead of the high and beautiful humanity,
the old biographers of the saints give us only a super-
humanity which leaves us with an unsatisfied longing to
possess the real portrait instead. Fully appreciating the
difficulty of the task, and foreseeing the necessarily most
imperfect result, I set it as my aim to endeavour, by
steady and honest study, to bring out truthfully, as far as
was possible, the real woman, Catharine of Siena. At
the best, the picture must be defective. Owing to the
omissions in the biographies of Kaymond and his imita-
tors, it has been necessary to search for side lights upon
her character and career, in many of the annalists and

Her Detractors. 333

chroniclers of her time, lay and ecclesiastical. Some of
these have afforded considerable help towards eliciting the
humanness of the person portrayed, and the reality and
activity of her life. Although in most of these her name is
cited with a tender reverence, yet this is not always the
case. The adverse testimonies are not without their value.
Some speak of her as one "reputed to be wise," but having
no knowledge of the world, of public questions, or of diplo-
macy. The French historians of the Schism who espoused
the cause of Clement VII. seldom speak well of her. This
is not unnatural, considering the prominent part she took
in upholding the Italian Pope. Indeed, her reputation in
France, until a very recent date, has suffered from the
blackening touches given to the portrait of her character by
the Clementines, in the same way that the character of Joan
of Arc remained in England so long under the slur cast
upon her by our own Shakespeare and his contemporaries.
M. Bouchon, the translator into French of Machiavelli's
" History of Florence," made the following comment upon
the notice there given of Catharine and her mission to
Florence : " Pius II. on his death-bed repented bitterly of
three things : of having written the book of ' The two
Lovers ; ' of having preached a crusade ; and of having
canonized that sovereignly contemptible woman, Catha-
rine of Siena.'"^ Sismondi remarks, with a touch of the
peculiar nineteenth century scorn of women : " It was
not to be expected that they (the Eight of War) should

1 It may be worthy of remark, that Maimbourg, a historian of the
period of the Schism, who was an ardent Clementine, invariably
speaks with respect of Catharine.

334 Catharine of Siena.

be biassed by the advice of a well-meaning but enthusiastic
woman, in matters of importance to the State;" and we
have occasional notices of her, of this character, either
contemptuously patronizing or positively hostile, down to
a few words of the present day, written by the Rev.
Andrew Reed, who speaks of her as the " Dominican
Pythoness," who was "said to have visions of Christ."^

There is, however, a certain value, real of its kind, in
the early biographies, pale and unlife-like, and abounding
in puerilities as they are. The writers at least believed
what they wrote, and their affection for the subject of
their biographies led them undoubtedly to put down the
substance of the truth concerning her, however en-
veloped that substance may be with clouds of incense
and mists of superstitious reverence. Tedious and dis-
appointing as they are, they will yet appear to many
readers far more satisfactory than sketches of her life, or
poems in her honour written by persons full of enthusiasm
for the genius and power of the human being, full of
poetic appreciation of the beauty of the life of self-devo-
tion (or as it is now the fashion to call it, altruism), but
utterly rejecting the faith of which that life was the out-
come and product. Alike inquisitive and critical con-
cerning the ecstasies, exaltations, and trances of the
mystic, while dwelling with artistic delight on the beauty
of this noble apparition on the stage of history, the
modern sceptic throws himself for the moment on his
face before her, and worships " he knows not what ;" he

^ "The Story of ('hrislianity, from the Apostles to the Present
Day," p. L'87.

Lessons of her Life. 335

then goes his way, never having truly known what manner
of person she was, unbelieving as ever in regard to the
common inheritance which the poorest and most miserable
stiuggler after Christ shares with the highest and holiest of
the saints, and ignorant as before of that eternal source and
fount of life whence the most noble and gifted, as well as
the meanest of the children of men must needs draw the life
through which alone they are transformed into saints of God.

There is no need to call upon any to admire the genius
of Catharine. There are many who will be able to draw
philosophical deductions, infinitely better than I can, from
the facts of such a life and such a character as have been
depicted. There are many who will be interested in regard-
ing Catharine as a typical character, or the representative
of much that was the best and strongest in the era in which
she lived ; as a person who could only by any possibility
have been born and nurtured under the sunny skies of
Italy, who could only have proceeded from such a simple
and hardy race as that of the artisans of Siena, and who
could only have reached what she attained to under the
combined and strongly-contrasted influences of Roman
Catholicism and Republicanism. In all these respects
Catharine stands, as it were, apart from us, and at a dis-
tance. We have no share in the circumstances above
named, which may have contributed more or less to her
greatness. In concluding, therefore, I had rather draw
attention to what we in England, and in the nineteenth
century, have in common with her — what, indeed, every
human being shares or may share with her.

In common with her, we possess much that is external
to us; the priceless inheritance claimed and striven for

336 Catharine of Siena.

by all who have been truly great in the sense of bringing
blessing to humanity. We have one Father, the Eternal,
the Just One, the ever Faithful, whose name is Love. We
have one Saviour, he who is the Word, who was with God
from the beginning, and who was made flesh and lived
among us, died, and rose again for our salvation. We have
one Source, approachable by us all, of undying spiritual
life — the Holy Spirit, whom that Saviour poured forth upon
his waiting disciples on the day of Pentecost, and who now
waits each moment at the door of every heart, to be ad-
mitted and to bring light, life, and peace. We have, in
common with the saint whose life we have followed, an ever-
free access to the Father, by prayer. That path of prayer
which she firmly and unwearyingly trod is open to every
one of us. If her life illustrates one truth more forcibly than
another, it is that of the efficacy and power of prayer, and
the fidelity of God in answering the petitions of those who
wait on him. We have, in common with her, not only all
this, which is external to ourselves, but we have each one
of us within us the power to look upward, to pray, to turn
our faces resolutely to the light, and to urge ourselves
onwards towards that light. It requires no mighty genius
to become strong in faith and in prayer. It needs not the
hand of a giant to lay hold upon the hand of the All-
powerful and All-loving, The hand of a child can equally
well grasp that hand, and, in so doing, out of weakness be
made strong. We have the power to cultivate the human
affection within us, until, freeing itself from all littleness
and egotism, it embraces humanity, and, liberated from
the thraldom of restless passion and excess, it becomes a
chastened, ever-burning, and unquenchable love towards

Leasonfi of her Life. 337

our fellows, ever ready to weep with those who weep, and
to rejoice with those who rejoice, to believe all things, to
hope all things, and to endure all things.

We all have the power, God helping us, to become honest,
truthful, courageous, just, patient, self-denying, and kind.
We can all learn to oppose persistently and with courage
what we know to be evil, and to speak each one to his
neighbour, faithfully and in love, what we believe to be the
truth.

Every truly great man or woman who can justly be
called blessed as well as great, learned at first to be faithful
n a few things, and in that which was least, before being
called to control and to act in the midst of great things ;
and for each of us it is possible to begin from this moment
to perform every act of our daily life with an upright in-
tention and a pure conscience before God and man ; and in
so doing we shall have already advanced not a few steps
along that path of humble glory which the blessed great
have trodden before us. No truer meed of praise could be
given to any man than that which Lord Cobham gave to
Wycliffe : " As for that virtuous man Wycliffe, I shall say,
of my part, both before God and man, that before I knew
that despised doctrine of his I never abstained from sin.
But since I learned therein to fear my Lord God, it hath
otherwise, I trust, been with me. So much grace could I
never find before in any instructions of the Church."
There were hundreds who might have said this of Catharine
of Siena. What can one human being do better for another
than this — so to tell him the truth of Christ as to win him
from sin and weakness, and set him on the path to heaven 1
This again, then, we have in common with Catharine— the

z

338 Cathanne of Siena.

wonderful power with which God has endowed us, as social
and sympathetic beings, to impart what we know and love,
to pass on from hand to hand the torch we bear, be it of a
blazing brightness or as yet but dimly burning. But first
we must ourselves possess the light.

Look well, then, reader, at this poor saint, at all the
saints, at the good and noble, the great cloud of witnesses
who have gone before, and are going. For as they were
and are, so you may be. But, turning from these, look
higher still. Turn your eyes towards him who is the Light
of the World, the Saviour, to whom I pray that he will
bless this poor work, and make it fruitful of blessing in the
hearts of those who are able to read the lesson of a holy
life through all the imperfections which mar the record.

'JHE KND.

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