LIFE AND DOCTRINE OF SAINT CATHERINE OF GENOA
TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN
Chapter XV to XXX
How the saint left the whole care of herself to Love; and what
means Love employed to purify her from her imperfections.
When Love had taken upon
himself the care and control of everything, he never more abandoned it. "And
I," said the saint, "gave the keys of the house to Love, with full power to do
all that was necessary, and I took no heed of body or soul, friends, relatives,
or the world; but of all that the law of pure love requires I took care that
the least part should not be wanting. And when I saw Love accepting the charge,
and producing the effect, I turned towards him, and was occupied in watching
this, his work. And he made me look upon many things as unjust and imperfect,
which before had appeared to myself and others as just and perfect, and in
everything was found defects. If I spoke of spiritual things, Love suddenly
checked me, telling me that I must not speak, but let the flame burn on within,
no word and no act escaping which should serve to refresh either soul or
body.
"One day I asked my confessor if I should try to
eat, that I might not cause any injury to the soul or body. Love answered me
within, and my confessor from without: `Who is this who speaks of eating or not
eating, under the form of a motive? Be silent, for I know you, and you cannot
deceive me.' Finding his eye so acute and powerful, I gave up all to him,
asking God to do with me what seemed to him good; to strip me of all things and
clothe me with his simple, pure, powerful, great, and burning love.
"And then Love exclaimed: `It is my will to leave
every one naked, naked; neither will I have anything above me nor under me. And
be it known to you, that such is my nature and condition, that I convert and
change into myself all souls that can be changed, despoiling them of self.'
Love will be alone. If another should be in his company, the gates of heaven
would be closed against him, for they are open only to pure Love. Let each one,
then, leave himself to be guided by Love, that he may be conducted to that end
which pure Love desires all to attain.
"Pure Love draws the soul to himself in a variety
of ways, and when he sees her occupied with any affection, he marks all things
that she loves as his enemies, and consumes them without sparing herself or her
body; and although the nature of Love would destroy them by one blow, yet
seeing the weakness of man, he cuts away little by little, and silently; for we
cling so firmly to the object of our love, which we esteem beautiful, good, and
just, that we will listen to nothing that opposes us; therefore Love says: `I
will put my hand to the work, for with words I can do nothing; I will destroy
all things that thou lovest, by death, infirmity, or poverty; by hatred and
discord; by detraction, scandal, lies, and infamy; by relatives, by friends,
and by thyself, till thou knowest not what to do, finding thyself cast out from
all things that constituted thy delight, and receiving from them only pain and
confusion; neither dost thou understand these operations of divine Love, all of
which seem contrary to reason, both as regards God and the world; therefore
thou dost cry and lament, striving and hoping to escape from this distress, and
thou wilt never escape from it.'
"When divine Love has kept a soul thus in
suspense, and, as it were, desperate, and disgusted with all things that before
she loved, then he shows her himself with his divinely joyful and radiant
countenance, and as soon as the soul perceives it, naked and destitute she
casts herself into his hands, crying: `O blind one, what didst thou seek? what
hast thou desired! here are all the delights thou hast sought! O divine Love,
how sweetly hast thou deceived me in order to strip me of all self-love and
clothe me with pure love abounding with every delight! Now that I see the
truth, I have nothing to lament but my ignorance.'"
How well regulated was the saint in all things.--Of the
opposition of her spirit to humanity, and how humanity tormented her.
With this blessed soul
everything was so well ordered, that wherever she had control, or could offer a
remedy, she never could endure any disorder; and she could neither live nor
converse with persons who were not well regulated, especially if they were
those who appeared to have entered with herself the way of perfection; and when
she saw them countenancing any imperfection, and taking part in any of those
things which she had learned to abhor, she left their company.
She was very compassionate to all creatures,
although merciless to their defects, so that when an animal was killed, or a
tree cut down, she could hardly bear to see them lose the life that God had
given them, but she would have been very severe in rooting out the evil from
one who had brought it upon himself by sin.
She could not see her own sins, or realize that
she must sometimes commit them, neither could she believe that others would
sin; and so entire was the peace of her mind, that it seemed to substitute for
bodily sleep. Such repose was, however, more refreshing to her body than
natural sleep, for sleep takes off the mind from God. She was so restrained
interiorly, that she was wont to say: "If I uttered a word, breathed a sigh, or
cast a glance towards any person who could understand me, my humanity would be
well content, as a thirsty person when given a drink." Meaning by this that
when she was pierced by the arrows of divine love, she lost all feeling and
remained motionless, until God, as it often happened, relieved her from this
occupation.
So opposite and repugnant was the spirit to
humanity, that when humanity wept, the spirit laughed, and held her in such
subjection as to reprove her, not only for every unnecessary action, but for
every word, not permitting those around to offer her any alleviation in her
trials, seeming ever lovingly to mock her by exciting her desires for these
things with which she was accustomed to console herself, allowing her to taste
all things, and then suddenly destroying all relish for them, till by degrees
she had none left for any earthly thing, and could find no exterior or interior
nourishment, and in this desolation a secret longing would come over her to
hide herself, and weep, and lament.
Sometimes she would cast herself into the hedge
of rose trees in the garden, and seize the thorns with both hands, without
feeling the pain, so entire was the occupation of her mind. She would bite and
burn her hands, to relieve the interior suffering that consumed her, and the
most extreme external pain she esteemed as nothing. Her body was often so
deserted by the spirit, that without any resistance on her part four persons
could not move her from her seat. All these things were not done voluntarily,
but by a spontaneous impulse; neither did she find any consolation upon the
earth, but was constrained to shun those things without which others cannot
live.
She found no solace except in her confessor, with
whom she had an interior and exterior correspondence. But he, too, was taken
from her, and her sufferings greatly increased, because there was nothing to
which she could have recourse either in Heaven or on earth, and she was wont to
say: "I am in this world like one who is away from home, who has left all his
relatives and friends, and finds himself in a foreign land; when having
accomplished the business for which he was sent he is ready to leave and go
home, where his heart and mind are; for so ardent is his love of his own
country, that a day of absence seems a year."
She felt herself every day more and more
restrained, like one who is confined at first within the walls of a city; then
in a house without a garden, now in a hall, now in a chamber, then again in an
antechamber; sometimes in a dimly lighted, remote apartment, then in a dark
prison, her hands tied, her feet chained, her eyes bandaged, and without food;
for no one could speak with her and she was left without hope of release but by
death; she had no consolation but the knowledge that it is a merciful God who
does all this in his love; and with this she was satisfied.
On one occasion, hearing some one repeat the
words: "Arise, arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" she cried aloud, in the
excess of love: "Would that I could come now, now;" and all who heard her were
astonished. With that burning love in her heart, it seemed to her that she
could pass through the most searching judgment; for she saw nothing in herself
for that judgment to condemn; she even took pleasure in the thought of it, for
she earnestly desired to see the infinitely powerful and just judge, who makes
all things tremble, except pure and simple love.
How an evil spirit, that had possession of one of her
spiritual daughters, named her Catherine Serafina.
This holy soul had, in the
house with her, a spiritual daughter who was tormented by the devil, who
frequently attacked her, even throwing her upon the ground, and by this
violence driving her almost to desperation. This evil spirit even entered into
her mind, and prevented her from thinking of divine things, so that it seemed
to her that she was separated from God, and lost. She was beside herself, and
fell so entirely under his diabolical will, that she became almost a demon
herself. She was insupportable to herself, and found no peace except in the
presence of her spiritual mother; for when they were together, at a glance they
understood each other, one having the spirit of God, and the other its
opposite.
One day this afflicted creature, vexed by the
unclean spirit, knelt at the feet of the blessed Catherine, in the presence of
their confessor; and the devil through her said: "We are both slaves by
reason of that pure love that thou hast in thy heart." and then, enraged
with himself for having uttered these words, cast her upon the ground, winding
about like a serpent. When she had risen from the ground, the confessor said:
"What is the name of this woman, tell me," and the evil spirit answered:
Catherine, and would say no more. Then the confessor said: "Tell me her
surname, is it Adorno or Fieschi?" and he would not answer; but the confessor
insisted, and he at length said: Catherine Serafina, but he uttered
these words struggling with great agony.
This afflicted being possessed a powerful
intellect, and she lived in virginity. The Lord, perhaps, sent this affliction
upon her to keep her humble. She died a holy death, but the evil spirit never
left her until the very last moment.
The blessed Catherine, while reflecting on the
opposition between pure love and the evil spirit, was accustomed to say that
man did not consider the difference, and did not appreciate extreme love as he
ought, "For truly," she added, "he who does not know precious stones, does not
value them."
And, filled with compassion for the blindness of
man, she said: "If by taking my blood and giving it to man to drink, I could
make known to him this truth, I would give it all for love of him. I cannot
endure the thought that man, created for the good that I see and know, should
lose it
Catherine persevered in this way for about
twenty-five years, instructed and directed by God alone, by a wonderful, divine
operation. Afterwards, perhaps on account of the approach of old age and her
extreme weakness, the Lord sent a director who took charge of her soul and of
her bodily health; a spiritual person of holy life, in every way fitted for
such a charge, to whom God gave the light and grace to know his designs in
regard to her. He was chosen rector of the hospital where she lived, he heard
her confessions, said mass for her, and gave her communion, whenever he could
do so.
This priest, at the request of some spiritual
persons who were devoted to the saint, wrote most of the present work, having
urged and induced her to relate the extraordinary graces which God had
conferred upon her, especially as this religious, by long intercourse, well
understood the order of her life. The first time that she made her confession
to him, she said: "Father, I know not where I am, as to my soul or my body. I
wish to confess, but I do not see any offence that I have committed." And the
faults that she enumerated did not seem to her sins of thought, word, or deed;
for she was like a child who, when in his childishness he ignorantly does
something which he is told is wrong, suddenly changes color, and blushes, but
not because he is sensible to the fault.
She sometimes said to her confessor: "I do not
know how to make my confession, for I have not enough exterior or interior
feeling to be able to accuse myself of having said those things on account of
which I feel some stings of conscience. I would not fail to make my confession,
and I do not know whom I am to accuse of my sins; I would accuse myself, but I
cannot."
When God was effecting anything within her that
troubled her, she submitted it entirely to her confessor, and conferred with
him; and he, by the divine light and grace, understood the whole, giving her
such replies that he seemed to feel what she felt. This was a great consolation
to her, so that she spoke to him with entire confidence, and could not be
satisfied until she had discovered to him all she felt. When she was prevented
from communicating to him anything that was upon her mind, she felt as if in
burning flames, but after she had spoken of it to her father, she was tranquil
and satisfied.
It was a great consolation to her that he could
understand her by a glance, when she could not speak, allaying the violence of
the burning fire within, and strengthening her exhausted frame. The interior
action was so intense that it became necessary to divert her mind by external
things, and that diversion was torture to her, for it did violence to her
heart. At one time, having been in a weak state for several days, she took the
hand of her confessor and raised it to her face, and the odor of it penetrated
her heart with such a fulness of exterior and interior sweetness that it seemed
supernatural.
The confessor asking her what was the nature of
that odor, she answered that it was an odor that God had sent to comfort the
soul and body in their sufferings; that it was so penetrating and sweet that it
seemed as if it could bring the dead to life, and she added: "Since God grants
it to me, I shall console myself with it so long as it pleases him." The
confessor, believing that as it was given through him he too could perceive it,
raised his own hand to smell the fragrance of it, but there was none there, and
it was told him that God does not give his good things to those who seek them,
but only bestows them in cases of necessity, and for some great spiritual
result.
The saint also said that she was permitted to see
that this odor was a drop of the beatitude that the body with its senses will
enjoy in heaven, through the humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ; by which every
one will be satisfied eternally in body as well as soul. Her body and soul were
strengthened and refreshed for several days by the impression and remembrance
of this odor.
On one occasion she said to her confessor, who
was sometimes absent from her: "It seems to me that God has given you the care
of me alone, and that you ought not to attend to any one else; for I have
persevered during the twenty-five years in the spiritual life without the help
of any creature, but now that I cannot endure such interior and exterior
conflicts, God has sent you to me. If you know how terribly I suffer when you
are absent, you would rather remain with me in my trials, than go in search of
any recreation; and yet I would not ask you not to go."
And indeed it appeared as if every remedy and
relief that God allowed to her soul and body was given her by this confessor,
who, at the moment provided her with thoughts and words, which were suited to
her necessities, so that he was amazed at them himself, and when the occasion
for them was past, no remembrance of them remained.
And because this continual intercourse and close
familiarity roused some to murmur who did not understand the necessity for
them, the confessor withdrew and was absent for three days, to ascertain
whether this necessity was wholly divine without any human mixture, and to
relieve himself from every scruple; but he repented making the trial, on
account of the severe sufferings of the saint. Moreover, he was in secret
reproved by God for his incredulity, when he had been so long a witness to so
many supernatural signs, one of which would have been sufficient to convert a
Jew; and after this his scruples never returned.
The saint continued for many years in this state
of dependence on her confessor, and by the grace of God, through all his
attendance upon her, in his fatigues and trials, his health never failed. When
she concealed from him any interior operation, it was intimated to him by some
divine inspiration, and he would say to her: "You have such and such a thing on
your mind, and you wish to deny it to me, but God will not permit you." At
these words she was greatly surprised, and acknowledged that they were true,
and afterwards was freed from her sufferings. Sometimes she would say to her
confessor: "What do you think is in my mind?" and although he knew nothing of
it, yet at that moment words were given him, and he told her the whole.
Treatment of the saint by her husband, and how she obtained
salvation of his soul from God, and also that of Sister Tommasa Fiesca, her
companion.
As we have mentioned before,
this creature, so favored by God, was married at the age of sixteen to Guiliano
Adorno, who, although of a noble family, was of a perverse and stubborn temper,
and conducted his affairs so badly, that he was reduced to poverty; yet she was
always obedient, and patient with his whims and eccentricities, but at the same
time she suffered so much from him that with difficulty she preserved her
health, and became to reduced and wasted, that she was a most pitiable object.
She lived in a solitary house, alone, to satisfy him, and never went out except
to attend mass, and then return as quickly as possible, for she would endure
anything rather than give pain to others.
Almighty God, seeing that this soul could be
brought to great perfection, enabled her to support all this, without
murmuring, in silence, and with the greatest patience. For the first few years
she was kept in such subjection that she knew nothing of what was going on in
the world; but, during the five following she sought to divert herself from the
great vexations which her husband caused her, by associating with other ladies,
and occupying herself with the affairs of the world as they did.
But she was soon after called by the Lord, and
left this way of life, never to return to it again; and, by the goodness of
God, she was permitted to live with her husband, as a sister with a brother.
Her husband became a member of the third order of St. Francis, and finally was
visited by a severe illness, which he bore so impatiently that his wife became
greatly distressed for the salvation of his soul. As his end approached, she
withdrew into a retired apartment, and there, with tears and sobs, implored her
sweet Love to save him, saying, "O Love, I beg of thee this soul: I pray thee
give it to me, for thou canst do it." Persevering in this for the space of half
an hour, an interior voice at length assured her that she was heard, and
returning to her husband's chamber, she found him so calm and changed, that, by
every word and act, he manifested his submission to the divine will.
This miracle was made known by the blessed one
herself to a spiritual child of hers after the death of her husband. "My son,"
said she, "Giuliano is gone: you know his eccentricity, which caused me so much
suffering during his life, but before he passed away, my sweet Love assured me
of his salvation." It was plain that God had caused her to say this, that the
miracle might be made known; for, afterwards, Catherine seemed to regret that
she had spoken on the subject, but the person being very prudent, made no
remark and began to talk of other things. After her husband had passed away in
holy peace, and was buried, her friends would say to her that she was relieved
from great trials, and to human reason she indeed appeared to be released from
great oppression, but she answered that she was not conscious of it, that all
things were the same to her, and that she only cared to do the will of God.
She also lost some of her brothers and sisters
but so closely was she united with the sweet will of God, that she did not
suffer any more than if they had not been her own kindred. And on account of
this she could not understand why one of her companions of the same house of
Fieschi as herself, and married as she was, should leave the world by degrees,
for fear of turning back. After the death of her husband, this person became a
nun in a convent of the Observantines of St. Dominic, called also St.
Silvester; and twenty years after her profession, she was transferred to
another convent of the same order, called the New Monastery, that she might
reform it by introducing a stricter observance. She was called Sister Tommasa,
was full of prudence and sanctity, and attained great perfection. She was
superior of that monastery, and so burning was her zeal, that she was
accustomed to write, compose, paint, and practice various devout exercises, in
order to mitigate its violence. She wrote a treatise on the Apocalypse, and
upon Dionysius the Areopagite, and other beautiful, devout, and edifying
pieces. She painted with her own hand many holy countenances; the most
remarkable is one of Piety, representing a certain very holy mystery, when the
priest is consecrating at the altar. She wrought very delicately with her
needle many pious subjects, among which is still seen in her first monastery,
God the Father, surrounded by angels, with Christ and other figures of saints
worked with great skill and dignity.
Many things are told of this mother's devout life
and exemplary conversation, so full of the fervor of divine love, by the nuns
of her first and second convents, as well as by pious seculars who were her
friends; also how happily she passed from this life praising the Lord. Her
death took place in the year 1534, when she was more than 86 years of age. As
we have mentioned, the blessed Catherine wondered how (when she was yet in the
world) she could make such slow progress in contempt of the world; but she
herself, on the other hand, said that Catherine, for so she called her,
considered her desperate; and that it would be a dreadful mortification to her
if she should turn back; Catherine was more surprised at this thought of
turning back, and could not understand it. "If I should turn back," she said,
"I should not only wish my eyes to be put out, but that every kind of
punishment and insult should be inflicted on me."
The wonderful designs of God are manifested in
these two women, belonging to the same period, and both married; one of whom
was converted by infused grace and at once made perfect, while the other
arrived at perfection by virtue slowly acquired.
How a person, hopelessly ill, was cured by the prayers of the
saint.
A man named Marco dal Sale, who
was suffering from a cancer of his nose, after trying every remedy that could
be devised by the skill of physicians, and finding no relief, became almost
desperately impatient. His wife Argentina, seeing his condition, went to the
hospital where the holy Catherine lived, and begged her to visit her sick
husband, and pray the Lord for him; and the saint, as if under obedience,
complied.
This blessed soul was so obedient, that if an ant
had come to ask her to perform some act of mercy, she would at once have
followed it. Catherine, having arrived at the house of the sick man, somewhat
consoled him by a few humble and devout words. Returning afterwards to the
hospital with Argentina, they entered a church called St. Mary of Grace, and
there kneeling, Catherine was moved to pray for the sick man. Having finished
her prayer, she returned with Argentina to the hospital, and when the latter
had taken eave of her and gone home, she found her husband so changed, that
from a demon he had almost become an angel, and, turning to Argentina, he
exclaimed with joy and tenderness; "Oh! Argentina, tell me who is that holy
soul whom you have brought here?" and Argentina answered: "It is Madonna
Catherine Adorno, whose life is most perfect." The sick man then implored her,
by the love of God, that she would bring her there again. The next day she
complied with is request, and having related to St. Catherine what occurred,
brought her home with her again.
She knew, however, beforehand, the condition of
this sick man, in the answer to her secret prayer; for she never made a special
prayer except when interiorly moved to it by her Love, by which also she knew
that it was favorably heard. When she entered the room the sick man saluted
her, and continued weeping for some time, then said: "The reasons why I have
asked you to come here again are, first, to thank you for your charity towards
me, and then to ask of you one more favor, which I pray you not to deny me.
After you left me, our Lord Jesus Christ himself appeared visibly to me, under
the form in which he appeared to Magdalene in the garden, gave me his most holy
blessing, pardoned my sins, and said that he appeared to me, because on
Ascension Day I was to go to him; therefore, I pray you, most kind mother, that
you may be pleased to accept Argentina as your spiritual daughter, retaining
her always near you; and I pray you, Argentina, to consent to this." Both
answered him joyfully that they were content. After Catherine had gone, the
sick man sent for an Augustinian Father from a monastery called the
Consolation, and having carefully made his confession and received communion,
summoned a notary and his relatives, and arranged all his affairs, satisfying
every one. They all thought that his sufferings had turned his head, and told
him to be comforted, that he would soon recover and that there was no need of
his attending to these things; but he was too wise to be influenced by their
persuasions. The vigil of the Ascension having arrived, he sent again for his
confessor, again made his confession, and received holy communion; then he
received extreme unction with recommendation of the soul, all with great
devotion, in preparation for his journey. Night coming on, he said to his
confessor: "Return to your monastery, and when the time comes, I will send for
you. Every one having gone, he was left alone with his wife, and turning
towards her with the crucifix in his hand, said: "Argentina! I leave you this
for your spouse, prepare to suffer, for I assure you that you will have to do
so," which she indeed did, both mentally and from long continued bodily
infirmity. He passed the night in exhorting and encouraging her to give herself
entirely to God, to be willing to endure suffering, which is the ladder of
ascent to heaven. When it was day, he said: "Argentina, God be with you, for
the hour is come," and having uttered these words, he expired, and his spirit
knocked at the window of his confessor's cell, crying: Ecce Homo; which
when the confessor heard, he knew that Marco had passed to his Lord.
After the burial of Marco, the blessed Catherine
received Argentina as her spiritual daughter, according to her promise, and
this by a divine dispensation, for, if she had not had such a spiritual child,
she could not have lived in the state of abstraction in which she was often
thrown by the burning fires of her sweet Love. As she loved this daughter of
hers very much, she took her with her whenever she went out; and one day when
they were passing the before-mentioned church, Our Lady of Grace, she entered,
and after making her devotions, she said to Argentina: "This is the place where
grace was obtained for your husband." The Lord permitted her to say this, that
the miracle might be made known for our edification.
Continuing an account of her extraordinary way of life, and
her wonderful condition for some time before her death.
For nearly nine years before
her death, the saint suffered from a malady not understood by physicians or by
any one else. It was not a bodily infirmity; neither did it seem to her a
spiritual operation; and it was very difficult on the part of those who
attended her to know how to treat it. Medicine was of no avail, still less the
support obtained from bodily sustenance; but at length a way was found to
control it.
She was greatly debilitated, so that at times she
appeared to be near her end. For a year before her death she did not eat in a
week what another would require for one meal, and for the last six months she
only took a little broth, refusing everything else.
She never omitted holy communion, except when
absolutely unable to receive it, and in that case she suffered more from the
deprivation than from all her infirmities: indeed, it seemed as if she could
not live without this most holy sacrament. The vehemence of her spirit became
at length so great that it shattered her bodily frame from head to foot; so
that there was not a limb or nerve that was not tormented by her inward fires.
She threw off blood and other s ubstances, so that it was thought that she
retained nothing even of the very little she ate; and for the last two weeks
she took nothing but the most holy communion. She could not sleep, her
suffering was so intense, and her screams were dreadful.
The burning interior and exterior flames
prevented her from moving or being moved. Her sufferings banished from her all
friends and spiritual persons who could offer her any relief, so that she
remained in perfect interior and exterior solitude. And she suffered, too, in
another way. Her humanity would sometimes crave food so extremely, that it
would make any effort to obtain it; and when it was offered, the appetite was
gone and she could not taste it, but remained patient in her hunger.
She was so entirely abandoned to her sufferings,
that she appeared as if transfixed to the cross, with no desire but for the
blessed sacrament. On the other hand, she was so happy, and uttered such
burning words of divine love, that all around her wept from emotion. Many
persons came from a distance to see her, and speak with her, and recommended
themselves to her, believing that they had been a creature more divine than
human, as in truth she was. They beheld heaven in her soul, and purgatory in
her agonized body.
She saw the condition of the souls in purgatory
in the mirror of her humanity and of her mind, and therefore spoke of it so
clearly. She seemed to stand on a wall separating this life from the other,
that she might relate in one what she saw suffered in the other.
We are told of St. Ignatius, that after his
martyrdom his heart was opened, and on it was found inscribed, in letters of
gold, the sweet name of Jesus, and who can doubt that if the heart of
this loving servant of God had been opened, some wonderful mark would have been
found upon it. The burning flames within even changed the color of the flesh
about her heart, and if fire was applied to her body, she did not feel it, so
much more powerful was the interior flame. But there is this difference between
material fire and the flames of divine love, that the one consumes and
destroys, while the other sustains and strengthens.
How the sufferings she was to endure were revealed to her in
spirit; and how dreadful they were to her humanity.--Seeing an image of the
woman of Samaria, she asked of God that water.--Of a difference that arose
between the spirit and humanity, and of other wonderful things.
Many graces were bestowed on
this soul chosen of God, and many divine works were accomplished in her, during
the year before she passed from this life to the Lord. And as things which take
place suddenly cause greater terror, God revealed to her, at a glance, the
order of his operations, and that she must die in great suffering, and made
manifest to her this suffering, even her death. When humanity heard this she
became almost frantic, and it seemed as if the soul must leave the body, for
she could not utter a word.
When this terrible picture was removed, this holy
soul uttered words of such ardent and inflamed love, that all present trembled
at them; and although they were not understood by them, yet they were filled
with wonder at beholding such an effect. While the revelation was taking place,
the soul remained as lifeless as the body, having no sensibility to anything
spiritual, being like one dead. She could not speak of this spiritual sight,
neither give any idea of it, but her gestures and motions appeared so wonderful
as to strike with awe and astonishment every beholder.
Her confessor was filled with dread at these
things, considering the strict account to be rendered to God at the hour of
death, when nothing is excused. What he beheld, remained impressed on his mind,
and preyed upon it for many days.
When the spirit was occupied intently with divine
Love, and heeded not whether humanity lived or died, so long as the soul could
remain with God, humanity expostulated, saying: "You cannot continue in this
way, and live. God does not design that I should yet die; and, certainly, you
would do nothing but by the divine will. As I must live, whether you will or
not, you must quit this burning flame, and condescend to bear with me, so long
as it may please God; although I am sure that at any rate you will make me
suffer enough; for every day you are gaining power, and becoming more intent on
accomplishing your purpose, and in the end you will surely conquer."
When the spirit found itself obliged to yield
somewhat to humanity, if it had not been restrained by a divine power, it would
have reduced that body to dust, to obtain the liberty to be entirely occupied
with itself; and the body, on its side, would rather have endured a thousand
deaths than suffer so much from the oppression of the spirit; and in its
distress it would often exclaim: "Oh, wretched that I am! to be engaged in so
frightful a conflict;" then, addressing the spirit it would say: "I know that
you cannot endure me, because I hold you bound on earth, in exile, and deprived
of the fruition of the unbounded love of God; but I cannot sustain this fire of
the love of God, rather would I endure any other torture than one day in its
burning flames."
The spirit gradually consumed the human part, and
reduced it to such exterior and interior weakness that it could no longer
complain or make any of its former demonstrations. And the blessed one could
sometimes only utter such words as these: Love of God, Sweetness of God,
Purity of God. At another time she would be continually repeating:
Charity, union, and peace; and sometimes only one word: God, God.
At last she said nothing, for all her powers were confined within. On one
occasion her heart was kindled by so burning a flame of love, that she could
not endure it, and turning to a picture of the Samaritan woman at the well, she
cried out: "O Lord, I pray thee, give me a drop of that water which thou givest
to the Samaritan," and instantly a drop of that divine water was given to her,
which refreshed her more than human tongue can describe.
Sometimes the conflict between humanity and the
spirit was so great that the soul found herself, as it were, suspended in the
air, drawn up by her intense desire to reach heaven, and yet attached to earth
by her human and inferior part. At length the superior part so far conquered
the inferior, that the latter became more and more detached from earth, and
although at first this seemed strange to humanity, and she was discontented,
yet she soon began to lose all attraction for earth, and to enjoy these things
which the spiritual part enjoyed, till at length the attraction of the spirit
so far prevailed, that the two became reconciled and were satisfied with the
same food, although the human part did not entirely forget the earth; but she
was ever receiving such tidings from heaven that she became constantly more
firm, more persevering, more joyful and satisfied, so as by degrees to attain
repose. This drawing of the spiritual part towards heaven was a means of
purification, and the higher she ascended, the more she became detached from
all things natural, awaiting the moment when she would leave the body at death,
as the moment when she would leave purgatory for heaven; for God in his grace
makes the body of some persons their purgatory.
This holy soul continually suffered more and more
from the favors of divine love; sometimes for five or six days she could hardly
breathe, so great was the vehemence of this inward fire; and every attack was
more violent than the last, obliging her to conceal herself from all creatures,
to avoid their observation and wonder at her extraordinary condition. Her body
trembled like a leaf during these attacks, although her soul was in perfect
peace; sometimes even blood would flow from her nose, and she was so reduced
that, for several days, her strength would not return, and it was only restored
to prepare her for a fresh attack.
How the spirit deprived her of her confessor, who concealed
himself where he could witness her peace of mind in the midst of these
tortures.--She had visions of angels.--Of the experiments tried by various
physicians.--Of one who had come from England.--Of further divine
operations.
On the 10th of January, 1510,
during one of these attacks, all need of her confessor vanished from her mind,
and she had no more desire to see him, either for the support and consolation
of her body or her soul. She kept this thought secret for many hours, but
expressed the contrary. This thought came from the spirit, who wished to deal
with humanity without any intervention, and believed that the confessor, who
thought she must do and say all she wished to do and say, might influence her
too much, knowing, as she did, that all was by the ordinance of God.
When the confessor was removed, humanity was left
desolate upon the earth, and could hardly endure herself, consuming away and
yet living, because it was not God's time for her to die. The confessor at one
time concealed himself to watch the operations of God in this soul. She locked
herself into her chamber, alone; and, in her agony poured out her lamentations
to her Lord, exclaiming: "O Lord! what dost thou wish me to do in this world?
All my interior and exterior senses are lost. I find nothing in myself like
other creatures, but I am like one dead; no creature understands me. I am
alone, unknown, poor, naked, strange, and opposed to all the world; neither do
I know what the world is, and therefore I can no longer dwell with creatures on
the earth." She uttered these and many such expressions so piteously, that they
would have melted the stones with compassion. The confessor, who was concealed
and heard them all, was so moved that he was obliged to discover himself, and
drawing near, spoke to her (for God had given him the grace), in such a manner
that she remained consoled in body and mind for many days.
The sufferings of this blessed soul increased in
violence, and her attacks became more frequent, and were sometimes too
agonizing for human eyes to behold. She seemed writhing in flames of fire, and
could not be kept upon her bed. Sometimes these tortures would continue for a
day and night, without ceasing, and it seemed as if every moment must be her
last. She lost sight and speech, but by signs asked that extreme unction might
be given her, for she believed herself dying; but she lived to endure great
sufferings, for through all that she had hitherto endured, she had remained in
communication with God, and experienced great peace and interior joy in the
midst of them; but now it was ordered that for a season she should be deprived
of this divine communication, and should be left naked and desolate, with
nothing to hold her to life but the conviction that this was the will of God
concerning her. She would sometimes exclaim in her desolation: "It is now
nearly thirty-five years, O my Lord, since I have asked anything of thee for
myself; but now, most earnestly do I implore thee not to separate thyself from
me. Thou well knowest, O Lord, that I could not endure it."
She said this because, from the time she was
first called by God, her mind had always been in union with him, and at peace,
and hence the separation appeared dreadful to her; her soul became more
resigned, but humanity more tortured, at every fresh attack. When she was able
to speak, her words appeared flames of divine love, and so penetrated the
hearts of those who heard them, that they were deeply moved, and filled with
astonishment.
On one occasion she had four excruciating attacks
in one night. So great was the distress of her nerves, that from her head to
her feet there was not a spot free from suffering; she cried aloud in her
agony, and those around her implored God to have mercy on her, but she could
find no relief, and yet she said, during a pause: "Tongue cannot tell, nor
imagination conceive the peace of mind that I enjoy, but as to the human part,
all the sufferings that man could inflict are nothing to the pains I endure;
and in these operations the spirit and humanity are both watching to observe
the doings of God. It is not the spirit, but humanity that cries out in
agony."
In the intervals of this suffering, her body
appeared in health, and free from any feverish affection. She laughed and spoke
like a person in health, and told others that they must not be troubled on her
account, for she was happy, but that they must strive to do right, for the ways
of God were very strait.
She had at this time many visions of angels, and
sometimes she was seen laughing with them. She smiled without speaking, and, as
has been related, she beheld the joy of the angels, who consoled her and showed
her the preparation for her future triumph. She also beheld the devils, but
with little fear, for she was secure in her perfect union with God, which
drives out all fear.
About four months before her death, after all the
attempts of numerous physicians for her relief, another, more extraordinary,
was made. Several medical men were summoned, who examined this suffering
creature, investigated all the symptoms of her malady, and afterward came to
the conclusion that it was supernatural, and no remedy of medical science could
reach it. This she had often said herself, and refused to take the medicines
prescribed her. But when the physicians persevered in their prescriptions, she
took them in spirit of obedience, although with great pain and injury to
herself, until the physicians themselves came to the above mentioned
conclusion.
But there arrived from England a Genoese named
Boerio, who had been for many years physician to the king of that country. He
was surprised, when he heard of the fame of this holy lady, that she should
speak of her infirmity as not natural and requiring no medical remedy. Hardly
believing this report to be true, he obtained permission to visit her, and
reproved her for the scandal she caused by rejecting medical aid, even accusing
her of hypocrisy. To all this she humbly answered: "It grieves me much to be
the cause of scandal to any one, and if any remedy can be found for my disease,
I am ready to make use of it." The physician, availing himself of her consent
and obedience, applied various remedies, but at the end of twenty days, finding
herself no better, she told him that she had submitted to his treatment in
order to remove all scandal from his eyes, and from the eyes of others, but now
he must leave the care of her soul to herself. For it was thus that the Holy
Spirit (who worked and spoke through her) wished to confound the too great
confidence of physicians in their science. After this Boerio held her in great
reverence, calling her mother, and often visited her.
Of the many visions which the saint beheld in her last
days.--Of her acute sufferings.--How she could taste nothing but the blessed
sacrament, and suffered in herself the pains of the passion of our Lord.
During the last days of her
life, her acute sufferings still continuing, this blessed soul received
impressions in accordance with the divine operations in the saint whose day was
celebrated.
On the evening of St. Lawrence's day her body
appeared to her in flames like his, and on the following day God visited her by
drawing her upwards, towards himself. She remained immovable for more than an
hour, with her eyes fixed on the ceiling of her chamber. She did not speak, but
often smiled in sign of her interior joy. On returning to herself she told
those around, who questioned her, that the Lord had showed her one spark of the
joys of eternal life, and that her joy was so great that she could not restrain
her smiles, and repeated only these words: "Lord, do with me all that seemeth
good to thee," which showed that the time was approaching when she was to pass
from the fires of purgatory into that blessed life. Her sufferings were
constantly increasing, followed by the sweetest consolation, until the vigil of
the Assumption, when they became so great that all those around her believed
her passing away to her Lord. When she was about receiving communion, she
addressed many beautiful words to the holy sacrament, and to the persons
present: words of burning love from the interior fire of her heart, so fervent
and pious that every one wept with devotion.
The following day and the succeeding night she
passed in torture, and received extreme unction at her own request, with great
elevation. The next day she was in a state of such spiritual joy, that it burst
forth in her countenance, which was radiant with smiles, to the admiration of
those who beheld it. When the vision had passed, she answered to their
inquiries that she had seen some most beautiful countenances, beaming with joy,
so that she could not contain her delight; but the impression remained with her
for seven days, so that she appeared better. The cause was manifestly
supernatural, the change from death to life taking place so suddenly, and then
again her return continually to a worse condition, as she was drawing nearer to
her end.
An attack so severe followed this vision that she
lost the use of her left hand and side, and a finger of the other hand. She lay
speechless for several hours, with her eyes closed, and could not swallow,
though the persons about her attempted to give her nourishment; but the divine
work going on within her was to be accomplished without human aid.
Her thirst was always so great that it seemed to
her she could drink all the water of the sea, and yet she could not swallow the
smallest drop, or take refreshment from any created thing. She would sometimes
attempt to taste of fruit, but as soon as it touched her lips she rejected
it.
On the night of the vigil of St. Bartholomew, she
had a demoniacal vision, which threw her into great distress of body and mind.
Being unable to speak, she motioned to have the sign of the cross made on her
heart, and blessed herself; and by this it was understood that she was
suffering from a temptation of the devil. She made a sign that a surplice,
stole, and holy water should be brought her; this being done, in half an hour
she was relieved. Oh! how wretched are those sinners who are carelessly
awaiting this terrible presence, and a torment as terrible, it being so
dreadful where there is no sin!
About the 25th of August, some liquid was offered
her, which she took in obedience, but it caused her to scream from the distress
it gave her. She afterwards fell into a state of great weakness, and asked to
have the windows opened that she might see the sky. As night came on, she had a
great many candles lighted, and then, as well as she could, she sang the
Veni Creator Spiritus. When it was finished, she lay with her eyes upturned
towards heaven, making signs, which led those about her to believe that she saw
wonderful things.
Her countenance was radiant with joy, and she
seemed just about to breathe her last; but recovering herself, she repeated
again and again: "Let us go;" adding, "no more earth, no more earth." When
questioned as to what she had seen, she answered that she could not describe
those things, but they were very pleasant.
On the 27th of the same month, she seemed as if
left without any life of her own, and resting with her spirit alone in God. She
dismissed every one from her apartment, saying: "Let no one enter this room
except those who are absolutely needed." She held no more conversation with
creatures, except so far as necessity required, and when she had need of any
service, she said only, "Do this in charity." This was contrary to her usual
habit, for she was accustomed to speak always with entire confidence and
frankness to every one; and always expressed great gratitude for any service
done her. But at this time she could not look upon any service as done to
herself, but only for the love of God. This state she continued in for two
days.
On the 28th of August, the feast of St.
Augustine, her sufferings were very great, and for some months before her
death, she appeared to suffer much more on feast days, especially on those of
our Lady, and of the apostles and martyrs. Often she cried aloud in her agony;
but her silent sufferings were the greatest, when her tongue and lips were so
parched with the burning fire within that she could not move them or speak. At
such times if any one touched a hair of her head, or even the edge of the bed
or the bed clothes, she would scream as if she had been wounded.
When she was unable to swallow the smallest
morsel of food, or a drop of liquid, she could always receive holy communion;
and sometimes when her confessor found her in such a state that he feared to
give it to her, she would make a sign, with a joyful countenance, that she was
not afraid, and often, on receiving her face was glowing and radiant with joy,
like a seraph.
Sometimes she extended her arms as if stretched
on the cross, and it seemed as if the stigmata were interiorly impressed on
her, although they did not appear outwardly. On one occasion fresh water was
brought her to cool her hands, and after bathing the palms, it became boiling
hot, so as to heat even the stand of the cup, which had a very long stem. She
also suffered greatly at this time in her feet.
As the burning fire within increased, her
thoughts and imagination were filled with different sins, which she had never
before thought of these, however, did not cause her any compunction but the
remembrance of them gave her great pain. Her attendants, seeing her extreme
weakness, and that she had not taken food for so long a time, on the 10th of
the month of September assembled ten physicians, in order to ascertain if
medical science could invent any remedy for her sufferings. After the most
careful investigation of her case, they decided that her condition was produced
wholly by supernatural causes, and was beyond the reach of medical skill, for
all her bodily organs were in good order and showed no sign of infirmity; and
they took their leave, lost in wonder and recommending themselves to her
prayers.
On the 12th, she again received holy communion,
but took no food; she also made a will naming the place in which she wished to
be buried; then she lay alternately like one dead, motionless and speechless,
or groaning with the internal flames that were consuming her and which raged so
fiercely that black blood flowed from her mouth. Her body was covered with
black stripes. After these attacks she became more and more exhausted, and on
one occasion, having her eyes raised to the ceiling and fixed, she made so many
signs to those around that they inquired of her what she saw, and she answered,
"Drive away that beast;" but they could understand nothing more.
In what manner, and at what time, she passed from this life to
the Lord.--Many persons saw that blessed soul, under different forms, and in
different ways, unite itself with God.--What happened to her confessor when he
was celebrating the Mass of the Martyrs.
At length, on the 14th of
September she had so violent a bleeding that her body seemed deprived of every
drop of moisture. All the blood remaining within had been dried up by the fire
that was consuming her. Her pulse was hardly perceptible, but her mind was
clear. During the night she talked freely, and received communion as usual,
continuing in the same state until seven o'clock on the following evening.
On Saturday night, as the morning of Sunday was
approaching, she was asked if she wished to receive communion, to which she
answered, "Not yet," when she found that it was not the usual hour. Then,
raising the finger of her right hand to heaven, she wished, it would seem, to
show that she was going to make her communion in heaven, there to unite herself
wholly with her Love, and triumph with him forever; and, as hitherto she had
been separated from all earthly things, seeing that her hour had now come, she
knew that she should need no more communions on earth; and at that moment this
blessed soul peacefully and gently expired, saying, "Into thy hands, O Lord, I
commend my spirit," and took flight to her sweet and long-desired Love.
After her death that yellow tint which before was
only seen about the region of the heart, diffused itself over her whole body,
which signified that the divine fire had gradually consumed her whole humanity,
which was preserved alive in the flesh until every, even the last particle was
consumed; and then, free from every pain, she went forth from this purgatory,
beatified, to take her place, as we must believe, in the choir of the Seraphim.
For so purified was she by the divine fire in this life, it would seem that the
Lord must have exalted her to such a glorious elevation.
This, her most happy transit, took place in the
year 1510, on Saturday night, December 14th, as the hour of Sunday was
approaching when she usually received communion. Among the persons present was
one of her spiritual daughters, who saw the soul depart swiftly, and fly to
God, without hindrance; and this sight gave her great consolation, and so much
light, that she addressed those about her in words of burning love, exclaiming:
"Oh! how narrow is the way by which we must pass, to arrive, without hindrance,
at our home."
Another spiritual daughter of the saint, who, by
divine permission, was tormented by an evil spirit, suffered dreadfully at that
hour, and the spirit being forced to declare the cause, said that he had seen
that soul unite herself with God.
Her faithful physician was asleep, and awoke as
she departed, hearing a voice saying to him, "Rest in God, for I am now going
to Paradise." At these words he called his wife, and told her that the Lady
Catherine had died just at that moment, and it was found to be so.
Another person, who was praying, saw at the same
hour Catherine ascending to heaven on a white cloud, and being very spiritual
and devout, he experienced such joy and consolation at the sight, that he was
like one beside himself, and although at a distance, he was as certain of her
death and glory as if he had been present.
A holy, religious lady also saw her in her sleep,
clothed in white, with a girdle about her waist. She told her companion that
she had seen the soul of the blessed Catherine going to heaven, and in the
morning, to her great joy, she found that it was so.
Another religious was at that hour rapt in
spirit, and saw Catherine so beautiful, joyful, and content, that she believed
herself in Paradise. She called her by her name, and told her many things which
prepared her to suffer for the love of God, and determined her to change her
life, which she did; and she was after heard to speak of the comfort she
received from the memory of that vision.
It would be a long history to relate all the
other persons who had the same vision, in various places, and under various
circumstances. Her confessor had no notice of her death, on that night, nor the
following: but the next day but one, happening to celebrate the mass for many
martyrs, and not thinking, at the time, of that blessed soul, he had such a
clear vision of her martyrdom, that he knew every word he uttered was
appropriate to her sufferings; and his heart was so wounded with compassion and
devotion, that he burst into tears, and was hardly able to continue the mass;
but in the midst of his weeping he experienced great interior joy and
satisfaction at the divine disposal and her repose.
All present at that mass--and they were friends
of the blessed Catherine--could not restrain their weeping, so that the
confessor himself was overwhelmed with astonishment, and could, with
difficulty, finish the service. After it was concluded, he retired, and
indulged his tears to relieve the oppression of his heart. So clearly was the
great suffering of that chosen soul revealed to his mind, that all he had seen
of it with his bodily eyes and known by long experience, seemed as nothing to
the reality, and if God had not helped him, he would have died of grief.
Of her burial, and how the body was preserved in the midst of
great moisture and putrefaction.--How many prayers were granted by her
intercession, and a person restored to health.--Of the order she gave to have
her heart opened, which was not done.
The body of this saint was
interred in the principal hospital of the city of Genoa, in which, for many
years, she had served the sick. It was first put in a beautiful wooden case,
near the wall under which it was not noticed that an aqueduct passed. It
remained there nearly a year, and when it was disinterred, the tow laid around
the body was filled and covered with large worms that had been generated by the
moisture produced by the water; but not one had touched the holy body, which
was entire from head to foot, and the flesh dried rather than consumed.
Crowds of people flocked to see this wonderful
sight, so that it was found necessary to expose it for eight days. But as some
depredations had been committed on it, it was enclosed in a chapel where it
might be seen and not touched. It caused great surprise when the cloths that
wrapped it, and even the wood of the coffin, were seen to be destroyed and
spoiled, and the body uncorrupted and without a stain.
Many were graciously heard who recommended
themselves to her, and among others a friend of hers, who was sick, obtained
the favor of restoration to health. Her infirmity confined her to her bed, but
having had a vision of the happy state of the blessed soul, she directed that
she should be carried into the church and placed near the body. On applying the
cloths that were about it to the place where her pains were most severe, and
commending herself to the saint, she was instantly cured, and returned to her
house alone, without any assistance. For this great favor received, she caused
a mass of our Lady to be offered at each anniversary, and another on the
Festival of the Assumption, and left provision at her death that these masses
should be perpetual.
At present the blessed Catherine is held in great
devotion, in consideration of her holy life, illuminated with such peculiar
graces. She directed, some months before her death, that her body should be
opened and the heart examined, to see if it were not wholly consumed by love,
yet her friends did not venture to do it.
That holy body was placed in a marble sepulcher,
erected in the church of the hospital; but it was afterwards removed to a less
conspicuous tomb, on account of the inconvenience caused by the number of
persons coming to visit it.
It remains for us to pray our most merciful Lord,
that by the intercession of this blessed soul, he may bestow on us the
abundance of his love, that we may all advance from virtue to virtue, and at
length be united in eternal bliss with Him who liveth and reigneth
eternally.
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