Here as everywhere where Catherine went, miracles occurred. Once when she lay ill a priest was to bring her the Body of Christ. She lay in bed, unable to move, when the priest came followed by the altar-boys carrying lighted candles, a bell, and all the usual requisites of the ceremonial. But the host the priest carried was unconsecrated—he had suddenly conceived the idea of seeing for himself whether this woman had supernatural instinct. The others who were in the room knelt and worshipped the Lord in the “sacrament”, but Catherine made no move, and the priest corrected her because she showed no respect. Then she turned to him and said severely: “Are you not ashamed to come here with an ordinary bit of bread and try to lead all who are here into idolatry?” Overcome with remorse for his blasphemous trick the priest went away, convinced of Catherine’s mystical gifts.
But in spite of all the respect and love which were shown to Catherine herself, the citizens of Lucca had presumably already decided that when it suited them they would give up the Pope’s cause and attach themselves to Florence and the other rebellious republics.
In the autumn of 1375 John Hawkwood and his mercenaries were once again in the hire of the papal legate, and the Florentines took the offensive. The Florentine army marched into the Papal States and sent a proclamation to the towns which were vassals of the Pope, in which it was stated that Florence sought no advantages for herself, but only wished to help the Italians throw off the yoke of the cruel French lords who, in the name of the Pope, practised injustice and brutality wherever they had power.
In less than a month the whole of Umbria was in rebellion. Città di Castello, Viterbo, Gubbio, Forli, all declared for Florence. In Perugia a relation of the abbot of Marmoutiers had attempted to rape the wife of a distinguished citizen, who to save her honour threw herself out of the window and was killed on the spot. Raging with fury, the Perugians joined the rebels. In less than ten days eight towns were lost to the cause of the Pope.
Catherine had to make a short stay in Pisa on her way home from Lucca. Here she heard that her own Siena, where the Ghibellines had always been in power, had allied itself with Florence. When Fra Raimondo and another monk came and told her that Viterbo in the Romagna had also joined the rebels, she wept. When she saw how discouraged her friends were, she said to them: “It is too early to begin to weep. This is only milk and honey compared with what is to come.” What could there be which was worse than the worst? Raimondo asked in fear—he believed firmly that Catherine could see into the future. “Shall belief in Christ be openly denied?” Catherine replied that now they saw how layfolk rose against the Holy Father, but it was not long before they would see the clergy do the same. “When the Pope really begins to reform the morals of the clergy they will rebel and split the Church of Christ.” No, there would be no new heresy, there would be schism. And she said to Raimondo and his friend that they would live to see this horror.
But in spite of her dark misgivings, which really did foresee the Great Schism which took place some years later, Catherine wrote to the gonfaloniere (the general) and the elders of Lucca, a very long letter in which she did her best to strengthen their faith in the cause of the Church. She begins with her favourite theme—a man has to come to understand that his life depends on the fact that he believes in his Creator and loves virtue. “You know who said ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life’, and ‘he who follows Me walks not in darkness but in light.’ And the Church is His bride, the faithful sons of the Church are they who prefer to suffer death a thousand times than to leave it. If you reply that it looks as though the Church must surrender, for it is impossible for it to save itself and its children, I say to you that it is not so. The outward appearance deceives, but look at the inward, and you will find that it possesses a power which its enemies can never possess.” God is That Which Is Strong, for all strength and virtue emanate from Him. This strength has not been taken from His bride, and nothing else possesses it. The enemies of the Church, who fight against her, have lost this strength and help; they are as rotten limbs severed from the body; so do not bind yourselves to these rotten limbs. She begs the government of Lucca to stand fast, to continue as they have begun, and to remember that they do not stand alone, they have their brother Pisans with them—and remember, if a father has many children, but only one remains true to him, he leaves all his inheritance to this child. . . .
The Pisans were still loyal. But the league against the papal legates included now the Queen of Naples, Bernabo Visconti and his brother, Florence, Siena and Arezzo; and beside them stood all the rebellious towns in Umbria and the Romagna. . . .
XV
CATHERINE CAME HOME to Siena just before Christmas 1375. On December 21 Gregory XI created nine new cardinals in Avignon. When Catherine heard their names she must have understood that her worst fears were to be fulfilled. Seven of the nine cardinals were French—three of them relations of the Pope; one was an Italian and one a Spaniard, Pedro de Luna, who later became the rival Pope Benedict XIII. This was a terrible blow for all the Italians who still remained faithful to the Church; it was chiefly French influence which had undermined all the attempts to get the Pope to return to Rome; and the major cause both of the corruption in the Church and the state of misery which reigned in Italy, was the Popes’ “Babylonian captivity” in Avignon.
No new Master General was chosen for the Dominican order. Fra Elias of Toulouse continued in this office, and he ended by joining the rival Pope during the Great Schism. Catherine’s wish was not fulfilled: the Pope did not give her order a “wise and virtuous leader”. It was a long time since, as a little girl, she used to run out and kiss the paving-stones outside her father’s house, where the mendicant monks in their black and white robes had passed. Long ago she had learned that the weeds grew plentifully among the good corn in St. Dominic’s garden, and that here too there were far too many trees which never bore good fruit. A thorough weeding and pruning was sadly needed. But after Catherine’s death the Dominican order was reformed by her spiritual children, Blessed Raimondo of Capua and Blessed Clara Gambacorti of Pisa.
Even though it had fallen to Catherine’s lot to take an active part in the most important questions of the time, she was just as willing as before to do all she could to help every individual soul who asked for help. Some time early in the year 1376 one of her spiritual sons brought his friend Stefano Maconi to her. Neither the young nobleman nor his family had previously taken the slightest interest in the much-talked-of Popolana and her comings and goings. But at this time the Maconi family had become implicated in a quarrel with two families who were much more powerful, the Rinaldini and the Tolomei, and this young man had told Stefano di Corrado Maconi that if he laid his case before Catherine he was sure that she would be able to find a solution—she had already brought about so many reconciliations.
Stefano Maconi tells us that Catherine received him, “not shyly or fearfully like a young girl as I had expected, but like a loving sister whose brother has returned from a long journey”. But with her ability to see into men’s souls she had immediately discovered the latent beauty in this young man, who in spite of his light-mindedness and his craving for pleasure had kept himself free of gross vices from a natural sensitivity and pureness of mind. But Stefano too was deeply moved by Catherine, and listened with passionate interest to everything she said, seriously and tenderly concerned as she was for his true happiness. He was willing to go to confession at once, and wanted to try to be a good Christian. With regard to the quarrel between his family and the Rinaldini and Tolomei, she said that he must trust in Our Lord and she would do all that was in her power to bring about a peaceful conclusion.
She managed in fact to make Rinaldini and Tolomei promise that on a certain day they would meet Stefano and his father Corrado Maconi, in the church of San Cristoforo, so that they could be reconciled. But when the two Maconi arrived the others did not appear. They intended to insult the Maconi again. Catherine went up and knelt before the high altar: “If t
hey will not listen to me, they will have to listen to Almighty God.” She lay motionless in an ecstasy—and in a little while the Tolomei and Rinaldini slunk into the church through two side doors. It seemed to them that the kneeling woman before the altar was surrounded by a strange light. They laid the matter entirely in her hands and a reconciliation was soon brought about.
Stefano now became his “mammina’s” dearest son. He spent as much of his time as he could with her, took over his share of her correspondence, and sang her praises to all who would listen to him—he cared nothing that his old companions laughed at him and his unearthly love for the little wraith of a Sister of Penitence. . . .
One day Catherine said to him: “My dearest son, I have good news for you. Your greatest wish shall be fulfilled.”
“But, mamma mia,” said Stefano, astonished, “I don’t know what my greatest wish is——”
“Look into your heart”, said Catherine, smiling.
“Really, dearest mamma, I don’t think I have any wish except to be near you always.”
“And that is exactly what you shall be”, said his mother.
For in the meantime much had happened. Catherine knew that she would soon have to go to Florence, to see if she could arrange a reconciliation between the republic and the Pope. Whether she could see that she would continue her journey from Florence to distant Avignon, we do not know. But Stefano Maconi was to be among her travelling companions.
On March 12 Pisa and Lucca had joined the Florentine League, although with certain conditions: they were not bound to take active part in the war against the papacy. The Florentines even tried to get the Romans to desert the Pope, or at least to promise that they would not make further attempts to get him to return from Avignon. The Romans refused. Thereupon Gregory sent ambassadors to Florence in an attempt to reinstate peace. But so ingrained was the man’s unfortunate habit of vacillation, and so great his lack of judgment, that at the same time he sent out a bull against the Florentines demanding that they should surrender all the members of the rebellious government into his hands—they were to meet him in Avignon before the end of March. Among those who were to be surrendered in this manner was Niccolo Soderini, who had been Catherine’s friend since her first visit to Florence. He had been in the government about two months.
Catherine was forced to send the Pope a new letter. In it she writes to the head of the Church even more forcibly of the cause of peace. To her most holy and most honoured father in Christ his useless little daughter Catherine, God’s servant and slave, directs her eloquent and passionate appeal—there must be peace between him and his children. It is perhaps necessary to defend and regain the Church’s temporal goods, but it is more necessary to defend what is even more precious. The Church’s treasure is the blood of Christ, and this treasure was not given for temporal riches but for the redemption of men’s souls. First and foremost it is his duty to win back to the Church all the lambs who constitute the riches of the Church. It is true that the Church can never be poor, for Christ’s blood can never be wasted, but it is about to lose all the ornaments which are given it through its children’s virtue and obedience. But if he does his best, he will be innocent before God and men; he must win them back to the fold with the weapons of gentleness and love. He must show the desire for peace and then he will regain all his rights, both spiritual and temporal.
“My soul, which is united with God, burns with thirst for your salvation, for the reformation of the Church, and the happiness of the whole world. But it seems to me that God reveals no other remedy than peace. Peace, peace, for the love of Christ crucified, and do not let your children’s ignorance, blindness and presumption hinder you.” She repeats her warning: if the Pope allows himself to give his allies, in order to win their friendship, those prelates and shepherds they demand, instead of the best and most worthy, the reasons for war will be multiplied. “Oh, do not do such things, for the sake of Jesus’ love and for the sake of your own salvation.”
Catherine sent yet one more letter to Avignon—this time the bearer of the letter was Neri di Landoccio. Again she begs for peace, for good shepherds, for the correction of the evil ones who, like wolves, devour Christ’s lambs. He gave His life for the glory of God and the salvation of the world, “and you, His Vicar, should do the same in His stead. Is it not the custom that the lieutenant follows his captain’s example?”
After this she wrote a letter defending the cause of the rebellious Florentines: “I beg you from Christ crucified, and I demand that you do me this favour, overcome your wickedness by your goodness.” More and more often Catherine’s letters express her conviction that she, because she is the mouthpiece of her crucified Lord, is free to write: “I demand—” and that “you are to do as I advise you.” “Oh, Father, we are yours, and I know that almost all of them realise that what they have done is wrong. Let us admit that there is no excuse for them, but it seemed to them that they could not act otherwise, because of all the injustice they have suffered and all the indignities they have had to tolerate at the hands of bad shepherds and rulers. They have been infected by the shameful way of life of these men (and you know well whom I mean)—these men who are devils in human shape, and they [the Florentines] fell as Pilate did when he condemned Christ because he was afraid of His power, from despicable cowardice. They have persecuted you to protect their cities. Mercy, Father, I beg for mercy for them. You must not look on their ignorance and pride, but draw your children to you with gentle love and kindness, with mild reproaches. Oh, Your Holiness, give us peace, we are your unhappy children who have gone astray. I say to you who are Christ on earth, from Christ in Heaven, do this without delay and without wrath, and they will run to meet you, full of remorse for their mistakes, and lay their heads on your bosom.”
Remove to Rome, she says to the Pope, and raise the banner of the crusade, and you will see the wolves change to lambs. “Peace, peace, peace. . . and if you consider that justice demands revenge, strike me and let me suffer all the tortures and agonies you wish—even death. I believe it is the infection of my sins which is largely the cause of this misery and anarchy, so punish your little daughter as much as you will. Oh, Father, I am dying of sorrow and cannot die.”
Catherine had also written to Niccolo Soderini, and tackled the problem from the other side—exhorted the Florentine government to seek forgiveness from the Pope and be reconciled with him at any price. It is not our affair to judge the bad shepherds, God will reward them according to their deserts. And however corrupt they may be they have been consecrated to give us the sacraments. Catherine did not believe there was any salvation outside the Church.
On March 20 the army of the anti-papal league captured Bologna. But the following week the papal troops under Sir John Hawkwood took Casena, massacred the men and gave the women to the soldiers. At the head of a mercenary army of savage men aided by bloodhounds followed Cardinal Robert of Geneva, who later became the rival pope, Clement.
At the same time ambassadors from Florence appeared before the Pope in Avignon and declared, in the name of the republic, that the political leaders called by the Pope were unable to come, some of them being at the time in prison. And Florence was not willing to give herself up to the Pope unconditionally; the republic had already suffered too much injustice at the hands of the Pope’s corrupt legates for that. The Pope replied by putting Florence under an interdict, and excommunicated the Eight War Leaders and twenty-one of the town’s most prominent citizens—among them, Soderini. Donato Barbadori, one of the ambassadors, heard this terrible doom. He turned towards the crucifix hanging over the Pope’s throne: “Look down on me, God of my salvation, and help me; do not forsake me, for my father and my mother have forsaken me.”
In the Middle Ages, when a town was put under an interdict, its citizens became outlaws in all Christian countries. Competitors could take the opportunity to ruin its commerce, and to imprison or enslave its citizens, wherever they might find them. “Everywhere in the
world the Florentines were seized by the governments and relieved of their property in the countries where they had business connections”, writes Raimondo. “They had to seek reconciliation with the Pope through the intervention of persons whom they knew the Pope would listen to.” He means Catherine.
Catherine was willing. In preparation for her mission she sent Raimondo and two priests of her spiritual family to Avignon with a new letter, in the same tone as those she had sent before. She demands reform within the Church—let the weeds be taken up by the root, the evil shepherds and rulers whose rottenness spread disease through the garden be thrown out, and pure, sweet flowers planted instead. She demands that the Pope should return to Rome, that the crusade should be started and peace made with the Christian rebels. Finally she recommends the bearers of the letter, her sons: “they are messengers from Christ Crucified and me.”
On the night of April 1st she had a vision which she describes in a letter to Raimondo. Christ appeared to her and let her partake of His secrets in such a way that she did not know whether her soul was in her body or beyond it. And she was filled with an indescribable joy because she understood. She saw that it was necessary for Holy Church to suffer persecution, but she saw also that a new youth would follow afterwards. The Sweet Truth reminded her of these words in the Gospel: “It must needs be that offences come”, but also “woe to him through whom they come.” To rid His Bride of the thorns which stung her flesh and caused it pain, He had made himself a whip of evil men, as He had once made a whip of thin strings—with this He would drive out the unclean, greedy, miserly and proud merchants who sold the gifts of the Holy Spirit. But as her desire to see all mankind enter the wound in Jesus’ heart spread like a great fire in Catherine, Christ allowed her to see that great multitudes streamed into the wound in His side, led by His saints. Among them she recognised her father, St. Dominic. Then Christ laid His cross on her shoulder and put an olive branch in her hand. “Go and say to them that I announce a great joy.” “And I rejoiced, and said like Simeon, ‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.’ ” But what tongue can speak of the secrets of God? Not hers. So she can do nothing but seek God’s glory, the salvation of men and the regeneration of the Holy Church, and by the grace and power of the Holy Spirit put up with this until death. “Rejoice therefore when you suffer affliction, and love, love, love each other.”