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Letters of Catherine Benincasa by Catherine Benincasa

C >> Catherine Benincasa >> Letters of Catherine Benincasa




Our last enemy--that is, our miserable flesh with its sense-appetites--is
overcome by the flesh of Christ, scourged and nailed on the wood of the
most holy Cross, by mastering it with fast and vigil and continuous
prayer, with burning sweet and loving desire. Thus sweetly shall we
conquer and discomfit our foes by the power of the Blood of Christ. Thus
shall you fulfil His will and my desire, which grieves when it beholds
your imperfection. I hope by His infinite goodness that He will console my
desire in you. Therefore I beg that you be not negligent, but zealous; do
not shift about in the wind like a leaf, but be firm, stable, and
constant; loving one another with true brotherly charity, bearing one
another's faults. By this I shall perceive whether you love God and me,
who desire naught but to see you in true unity. Drown you in the Blood of
Christ crucified and hide you in His sweetest Wounds. I say no more.

Let the convent of Santa Maria degli Angeli be commended to you. And never
mind because I am not there, for good sons do more when the mother is not
present than when she is, because they want to show the love they have for
her, and to enter more fully into her favour.

I beg you, Sano, to read this letter to all the children. And do you all
pray God for us, that He grant us to complete what is begun to His honour
and the salvation of souls; for we wish no other desire nor work, in
despite of any who may wish to hinder it. Remain in the holy and sweet
grace of God. May God fill you with His sweetest favour. Sweet Jesus,
Jesus Love.




TO BROTHER RAIMONDO OF CAPUA
OF THE ORDER OF THE PREACHERS


With all her longing to suffer for her faith, Catherine was only once, so
far as we know, exposed to physical violence. This was on the occasion of
which she is here speaking. She is still in Florence, faithful under the
new Pope as under the old to her efforts to bring about the passionately
desired peace. In a tumult in the disordered city, it came to pass that
her life was threatened, and she took refuge with her "famiglia," in a
garden without the walls. Hither her enemies pursued her, but as they drew
near, fell back of a sudden, awestruck, as she herself here tells us, by
her words and bearing. The danger was averted, and Catherine had met one
of the disappointments of her life. [Footnote: As she herself expresses
it, "The Eternal Bridegroom played a great joke on me."] There is an
almost childlike simplicity in her account of the inner side of the
experience. Nothing could be more genuine than her grief that the crown of
martyrdom was not granted her--few things more lovely than her confiding
account of the fine joys which the mere hope of martyrdom, brief and
frustrated though it were, awakened in her spirit. Nor can she know even
so supremely isolated an experience without insisting that it be shared by
those she loves, and returning thanks for the great mercy which her "dear
sons and daughters" have received.


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

Dearest father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with
desire to see you a faithful servant and bridegroom of truth, and of sweet
Mary, that we may never look back for any reason in the world, nor for any
tribulations which God might send you: but with firm hope, with the light
of most holy faith, pass through this stormy sea in all truthfulness; and
let us rejoice in endurance, not seeking our own glory, but the glory of
God and the salvation of souls, as the glorious martyrs did, who for the
sake of truth made them ready for death and for all torments, so that with
their blood, shed for love of the Blood, they built the walls of Holy
Church. Ah, sweet Blood, that dost raise the dead! Thou givest life, thou
dost dissolve the shadows that darken the minds of reasonable creatures,
and dost give us light! Sweet Blood, thou dost unite those who strive,
thou dost clothe the naked, thou dost feed the hungry and give to drink to
those who thirst for thee, and with the milk of thy sweetness thou dost
nourish the little ones who have made themselves small by true humility,
and innocent by true purity. Oh, holy Blood, who shall receive thee amiss?
The lovers of themselves, because they do not perceive thy fragrance.

So, dearest and sweetest father, let us divest us and clothe us in truth,
so we shall be faithful lovers. I tell you that today I will to begin
again, in order that my sins may not hold me back from such a good as it
is to give one's life for Christ crucified. For I see that in the past,
through my faults, this has been denied me. I had desired very much, with
a new intensity, increased in me beyond all custom, to endure without
fault for the honour of God and the salvation of souls and the reformation
and good of Holy Church, so that my heart was melting from the love and
desire I had to lay down my life. This desire was blessed and grievous;
blessed it was for the union that I felt with truth, and grievous it was
for the oppression which I felt from the wrong against God, and the
multitude of demons who overshadowed all the city, dimming the eye of the
mind in human beings. Almost it seemed that God was letting them have
their way, through justice and divine discipline. Therefore my life could
not but dissolve in weeping, fearful for the great evil which seemed on
the point of coming, and because peace was hindered for this reason. But
in this great evil, God, who despises not the desire of His servants, and
that sweet mother Mary, whose name was invoked with pained and dolorous
and loving desires, granted that in all the tumult and the great upheaval
that occurred, we may almost say that there were no human deaths, except
those which justice inflicted. So the desire I had that God would show His
providence and destroy the power of the demons that they might not do so
much harm as they were ready to do, was fulfilled; but my desire to give
my life for the Truth and the sweet Bride of Christ was not fulfilled. But
the Eternal Bridegroom played a great joke on me, as Christopher will tell
you more fully by word of mouth. So I have reason to weep, because the
multitude of my iniquities was so great that I did not deserve that my
blood should give life, or illumine darkened minds, or reconcile the sons
with the father, or cement a stone in the mystical body of Holy Church.
Nay, it seemed that the hands of him who wanted to kill me were bound. My
words, "I am she. Take me, and let this family be," were a sword that
pierced straight through his heart. O Babbo mine, feel a wonderful joy in
yourself, for I never experienced in myself such mysteries, with so great
joy! There was the sweetness of truth in it, the gladness of a clean and
pure conscience; there was the fragrance of the sweet providence of God;
there was the savour of the times of new martyrs, foretold as you know by
the Eternal Truth. Tongue would not suffice to tell how great the good is
that my soul feels. I seem to be so bound to my Creator that if I gave my
body to be burned I could not satisfy the great mercy which I and my
cherished sons and daughters have received.

All this I tell you that you may not conceive bitterness; but may feel an
unspeakable delight, with softest gladness; and that you and I may begin
to sorrow over my imperfection, because so great a good was hindered by my
sin. How blessed my soul would have been had I given my blood for the
sweet Bride, and for love of the Blood and the salvation of souls! Now let
us rejoice and be faithful lovers.

I will not say more on this subject; I let Christopher tell this and other
things. Only I want to say this: do you pray Christ on earth not to delay
the peace because of what has happened, but make it all the more promptly,
so that then the other great deeds may be wrought which he has to do for
the honour of God and the reformation of Holy Church. For the condition of
things has not been changed by this--nay, for the present the city is
pacified suitably enough. Pray him to act swiftly; and I ask him this in
mercy, for infinite wrongs against God which happen through the situation
will thus be put an end to. Tell him to have pity and compassion on these
souls which are in great darkness: and tell him to release me from prison
swiftly; for unless peace is made it does not seem as if I could get out;
and I would wish then to come where you are, to taste the blood of the
martyrs, and to visit his Holiness, and to find myself with you once more,
telling of the admirable mysteries which God has wrought at this time;
with gladness of mind, and joyousness of heart, and increase of hope, in
the light of most holy faith. I say no more to you. Remain in the holy and
sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO URBAN VI


By this time Catherine has evidently more than an inkling of the character
of the man she is addressing. Gregory had been, if anything, only too
susceptible to influences from varying quarters: Urban's arbitrary and
headstrong nature resented any interference. He was making extraordinary
blunders in tact and policy; but woe to the audacious person who sought to
point them out!

Catherine's letters to this new Pope, if less familiarly affectionate than
those to the old, show the same amazing combination of candour and
reverence. True to her constant principles in the interpretation of
character, she insists on putting the best possible construction on his
actions, ascribing his impatient vehemence and bad temper to a noble and
partially impersonal cause. One suspects that Urban had lost his temper
with poor Fra Bartolomeo because the friar had used too great freedom of
speech rather than too little, as Catherine suggests. Despite her
generosity, however, she can rebuke pungently enough, as this letter
shows. On another occasion, we find her sending to Urban a tangible
allegory in the form of bitter oranges, candied within and gilded without,
doubtless by her own hands, with a pretty letter to point the moral. And
again she wrote: "Mitigate a little, for the love of Christ crucified,
those sudden impulses which nature forces on you. In holy virtue, throw
nature aside. As God has given you a great heart naturally, so I beg and
want you to make it great supernaturally: with zealous desire for virtue
and the reform of Holy Church, do you establish the manly heart you have
gained in true humility. In this way you will have both natural and
supernatural gifts--for the one without the other would avail little, but
would rather inspire us with wrath and pride: and when it came to
correcting our intimates it would slacken its pace and become cowardly."


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

Most holy and sweet father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and
slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood:
with desire to see you a true and royal ruler of your flock, whom you have
to nourish with the Blood of Christ crucified. Your Holiness has to see to
it with great diligence to whom you administer that Blood, and by what
means it is given; that is, I say, most holy father, that when shepherds
are to be appointed in the garden of Holy Church, let them be people who
seek God, and not benefices: and let the means of asking for the post be
such as act openly in the truth and not in falsehood.

Most holy father, have patience when you are talked to about these things.
For they are only said to you for the honour of God and for your
salvation, as a son ought to speak who loves his father tenderly, and
cannot bear that anything should be done which should turn to the loss or
shame of his father; but watches constantly, with intent earnestness,
because he sees well that his father, who has to rule a large family, can
see no more than one man sees. So if his lawful sons were not earnest in
caring for his honour and welfare, he would be deceived many a time and
oft. So it stands, most holy father. You are father and lord of the
universal body of the Christian religion; we are all under the wings of
your Holiness: as to authority, you can do everything, but as to seeing,
you can do no more than one man; so your sons must of necessity watch and
care with clean hearts and without any servile fear over what may be for
the honour of God and the safety and honour of you and the flocks that are
beneath your crook. And I know that your Holiness is very desirous of
having people to help you; but you must be patient in listening to them.

I am certain that two things must give you pain and make your mind angry,
and I am not in the least surprised. The one is that when you hear that
sins are committed, it hurts you that God should be wronged, for the wrong
and the faults displease you, and you experience a piercing of your heart.
In this case we ought not to be patient, or to refrain from grieving over
the wrongs that are shown to God. No; for so it would seem as if we
conformed us to these same vices. The other thing that might hurt you is
when the son who comes to tell you what he feels to be turning into wrong
against God and loss to souls and little honour to your holiness, commits
such ignorance that he conscientiously obliges himself, in the presence of
your Holiness, not to tell you clearly the absolute truth as it is; for
nothing should be secret nor hidden from you.

I beg you, holy father, that when your ignorant son offends in this point,
your pain should be without any excitement on your part: correct him in
his ignorance. I say this, because according to what Master Giovanni told
me of Brother Bartolomeo, he annoyed you and made you angry by his faults
and his scrupulous conscience; for which he and I have been extremely
sorry, since he thought that he had offended your Holiness. I beg you, by
the love of Christ crucified, to punish in me every pain that he may have
given you; I am ready for any discipline and correction which shall please
your Holiness. I believe that my sins were the reason why he showed
himself so ignorant, therefore I ought to bear the penalty; and he is very
desirous to come penitently to you wherever it might please your Holiness.
Have patience to bear his faults and mine. Bathe you in the Blood of
Christ crucified; comfort you in the sweet flame of His charity. Pardon my
ignorance.

I ask you humbly for your benediction. I thank the Divine Goodness and
your Holiness for the favour that you granted me on the day of St. John.
Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO DON GIOVANNI OF THE CELLS OF VALLOMBROSA


Catherine has missed her chance at martyrdom. Schism is threatening, and
she knows it: "I seem to have heard that discord is arising yonder between
Christ on earth and his disciples: from which thing I receive an
intolerable grief.... For everything else, like war, dishonour, and other
tribulations, would seem less than a straw or a shadow in comparison with
this. Think! For I tremble only to think of it ... I tell you, it seemed
as if my heart and life would leave their body through grief." So she
writes, out of trance, to the Cardinal Pietro di Luna--himself destined to
become later the antipope Benedict XIII.

The present sorrowful letter is to a hermit who had sinned violently in
youth, and repented passionately through many years of strictest
discipline. Catherine pours out her heart to him. The words in which
Shelley's Fury drives home to the agonizing Prometheus the apparent
tragedy of existence were fulfilled before her eyes:

"Hypocrisy and custom make their minds
The fanes of many a worship now outworn:
* * * *
The good want power but to weep barren tears,
The powerful goodness want--worse need for them:
The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom;
And all best things are thus confused to ill."

With unflinching clear-sightedness she presents the situation, turning in
vain to every quarter whence help might come. To the whole body of the
priesthood; to the timid monastic orders; to pious laymen honestly devout,
yet touched by no flame of sacrificial passion such as she felt might
bring salvation. It is never the sins of the world that most torture
Catherine: always, as here, the sins of the Church. She does not pause
till she comes to the terrible climax: "I see the Christian religion lying
like a dead man, and I neither mourn nor weep over him." It is the very
light of most holy faith that has confused the vision of men. And again we
hear the familiar refrain, "I believe that my iniquities are the cause of
it."


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

Dearest father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with
desire to see you an hungered for souls, on the table of the most holy
Cross, in company with the humble and immaculate Lamb. I do not see,
father, that this sweet food can be eaten anywhere else. Why not? Because
we cannot eat it truly without enduring much; it must be eaten with the
teeth of true patience and the lips of holy desire, on the Cross of many
tribulations, from whatsoever side they may come--complaints, or the
scandals in the world; and we must endure all things till death. Now is
the time, dearest father, to show whether we are lovers of Christ
crucified and rejoice in this food or not. It is time to give honour to
God and our toils to our neighbour: toils, I say, of the body, with much
endurance, and toils of the mind, with grief and bitterness offering tears
and sweats, humble and continual prayer, and suffering desire, before God.
For I do not see that in any other way the wrath of God may be pacified
toward us, and His mercy inclined, and through His mercy the many sheep
recovered who are perishing in the hands of devils, unless in the way I
said, through great grief and compassion of heart, and the very greatest
devotion in prayer.

Therefore I invite you, dearest father, on behalf of Christ crucified, to
begin anew with me to lose ourselves, and to seek only the honour of God
in the salvation of souls, without any slavish fear: never to slacken our
steps either on account of our sufferings, or in order to please our
fellow-creatures, or because we might have to bear death, or for any other
reason; but let us run, as inebriate with love and grief over the
persecution that is wrought upon the Blood of Christ crucified. For on
whatever side we turn we see it persecuted. If I turn me toward ourselves,
rotten members that we are, we are persecuting it with our many faults,
and such stench of mortal sins and empoisoned self-love as poisons the
whole world. And if I turn me to the ministers of the Blood of the sweet
and humble Lamb, my tongue cannot even narrate their faults and sins. If I
turn me to the ministers who are under the yoke of obedience, I see them
so imperfect--the accursed root of self-love not being yet dead in them--
that not one has come to the point of wishing to give his life for Christ
crucified; but they have encouraged fear of death and pain rather than
holy fear of God and reverence for the Blood. And if I turn me to the
secular people who have already released their affections from the world,
they have not exercised virtue enough to leave the place where they were,
or suffer death rather than to do that which ought not to be done. They
have behaved so through imperfection, or else they are doing so through
prudence. If I had to teach them prudence, I should advise them that if
they wanted to reach perfection they should rather choose death, and if
they felt themselves weak, they should flee the place and cause of sin,
just as far as we can. This same counsel, if any chance came in your way,
I should think that you and every servant of God ought to give. For you
know that it is never lawful for us to commit a little sin in any way,
surely not for fear of suffering or death, since not even for
accomplishing some great good. So, then, on whatever side we turn us, we
find nothing but faults. For I do not doubt that if one single person had
had perfection enough to give his life, during the events which have
happened and are happening every day, the Blood would have called for
mercy, and bound the hands of divine justice, and broken those Pharaoh-
hearts which are hard as diamond stone; and I see no way in which they can
break other than through blood.

Ah me, ah me, misfortunate my soul! I see the Christian religion lying a
dead man, and I neither weep nor mourn over him. I see darkness invading
the light, for by the very light of most holy faith, received in the Blood
of Christ, I see men's sight become confused and the pupil of their eye
dried up; so that we see them fall as blind men into the ditch, into the
mouth of the wolf of Hell, stripped of virtue and dead by cold; being
stripped of the love of God and their neighbour, and released from the
bond of love, and lost to all reverence for God and for the Blood. Ah me!
I believe that my iniquities have been the cause of it.

So I beg you, dearest father, to pray God for me, that He take from me so
great iniquities, and that I be not the cause of so great ill: or may He
give me death. And I beg you to lift these sons of ours as dead up to the
table of the most holy Cross, and there do you eat this food, bathed in
the Blood of Christ crucified. I tell you that if you and the other
servants of God, and all of us, do not persuade ourselves with many
prayers, and others, to correct themselves of evils so great, divine
judgment will come, and divine justice will draw forth its rod. Indeed, if
we open our eyes, one of the greatest judgments that we can know in this
life is already befallen--that is, that we are deprived of light, and do
not see the loss and ill of soul and body. He who does not see cannot
correct himself, because he does not hate evil or love true good. So, not
correcting himself, he falls from bad to worse. So it seems to me that we
are doing, and we are at a worse point now than the first day. It is
essential, then, that we should never stop, if we are true servants of
God, in our much endurance and true patience, and in giving our toils to
our neighbour, and honour to God, with many prayers and grieving desire;
let sighs be food to us and tears our drink, upon the table of the Cross;
for another way I do not see. Therefore I said to you that I desired to
see you an hungered for souls upon the table of the most holy Cross.

I beg that your and my dearest sons be commended to you--those yonder, and
those here. Nourish them and make them grow in great perfection, so far as
your power goes. And let us strive to run, dead to all self-will,
spiritual and temporal; that is, not seeking our own spiritual
consolations, but only the food of souls, rejoicing in the Cross with
Christ crucified and giving our life, if need be, for the glory and
praise of His Name. I for my part die and cannot die, hearing and seeing
the insults to my Lord and Creator; therefore I ask an alms from you, that
you pray God for me, you and the others. I say no more to you. Remain in
the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




LETTERS ANNOUNCING PEACE


Amid the horrors which darkened Europe during her last years, one episode
of pure joy was vouchsafed to Catherine. The decisiveness of Urban brought
to an end the vacillating negotiations of the Papal See with the
Florentines, and peace was proclaimed at last.

The first of these notes announces the first step toward a satisfactory
end--the observance of the Interdict, placed by Gregory upon the city, and
contumaciously broken by the rebels. In the second, the news of the
establishment of peace has just been brought. Catherine's first impulse is
to bid the friends at home rejoice with her in news great in itself, and
greater because it may clear the way for the realization of wider hopes.
It is noteworthy that the instant the end for which she has long been
straining is achieved, her loyal and aspiring spirit reverts to her old
dreams, and summons her companions to resume prayer for a Crusade.

The arrival of the olive of peace, of which Catherine sends a portion to
her friends, is the fit close to the long drama which had opened when
Christ placed the Cross on her shoulder and the olive in her hand, and
sent her to bear His command of reconciliation "to one and to the other
people."




TO MONNA ALESSA
WHEN THE SAINT WAS AT FLORENCE


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

Dearest daughter in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood: with
desire to see thee and the others brides and faithful servants of Christ
crucified, that you may constantly renew your wailing for the honour of
God, the salvation of souls, and the reform of Holy Church. Now is the
time for you to shut yourselves within self-knowledge, with continual
vigil and prayer that the sun may soon rise; for the aurora has begun to
dawn. The aurora has come in that the dusk of great mortal sins which were
committed in the office being said and heard publicly, is now scattered,
despite whoso would have hindered: and the interdict is observed. Thanks,
thanks be to our sweet Saviour, who despises not humble prayer, nor the
tears and burning desires of His servants! Since, then, He despises them
not, nay, but accepts them, I summon you to pray and to have prayer
offered to the Divine Goodness that He send us peace swiftly; that God may
be glorified and so great an evil ended, and that we may find ourselves
united, to tell the wonderful things of God.

John Crace digests A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell

My English teacher is wearing a barrister's wig. He turns and points towards me as I sit trembling in the dock. "Members of the jury, I put it to you that this man, Tom Robinson, is innocent," he says, rather lugubriously. I want to protest. I want to shout that no, I am not Tom Robinson, but yes, I am innocent! But the words won't come out.

Then I wake up. It's another literary dream – one that's troubled me ever since I studied Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird for GCSE.

Most of the time I'm disappointed to leave my literary dreams, waking to realise that I'm not really ensconced with with the boozing Welsh pensioners from Kingsley Amis's The Old Devils or haven't really been thrashing Harry Potter's Quidditch team. I remember with fondness a skiing trip with William Shakespeare and the delightful discovery that Don DeLillo was serving drinks behind the bar in my local pub.

It's not all sunshine, though. Tom Wolfe once ruined a trip to New York, shouting at me across Fifth Avenue: "You're not even familiar with my work – get outta town, asshole!" But that's nothing on Howard Jacobson. I spent a summer discovering his novels during my waking hours and bumping into him in my sleep. I'd see him in a local restaurant and tell him how much I was enjoying his novels. "Oh right," he'd snap, "that old chestnut, huh?" When I met him for real last year he was, in fact, charm personified. I didn't tell him about the dreams.

But enough about my subconscious, what about yours? It's Friday: forget about work and tell me all about your literary dreams. Don't hold back – it's not like we'll read anything into it.

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