Hilaire Belloc - "On Nothing & Kindred Subjects"

Bayard Taylor - "The Story Of Kennett"

Anon. - "Reina Valera New Testament of the Bible 1862"

Various - "The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. II, No. 8, June 1858"

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Letters of Catherine Benincasa by Catherine Benincasa

C >> Catherine Benincasa >> Letters of Catherine Benincasa




Now I say: Thanks, thanks be to the Highest God Eternal, who has placed us
in the battlefield as knights, to fight for His Bride with the shield of
holiest faith. The field is left free to us by that virtue and power which
routed the devil who possessed the human race; who was routed, not in the
strength of humanity, but of Deity. Thus the devil neither is nor shall be
routed by the suffering of our bodies, but by strength of the fire of
divine, most ardent, and immeasurable love.




TO MASTER RAIMONDO OF CAPUA OF THE ORDER OF THE PREACHERS


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

Dearest and sweetest father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant
and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious
Blood; with the desire to see you a pillar newly established in the garden
of Holy Church, like a faithful bridegroom of truth, as you ought to be;
and then shall I account my soul as blessed. Therefore I do not wish you
to look back for any adversity or persecution, but I wish you to glory in
adversity. For by endurance and in no other wise we show our love and
constancy, and give glory to God's Name. Now is the time, dearest father,
wholly to lose one's self, not to think of one's self an atom: as the
glorious workmen did who were ready with such love and desire to give
their life, and watered this garden with blood, with humble continual
prayer, and with endurance unto death. Beware lest I see you timid; let
not your shadow make you afraid; but be a manly fighter, and never desert
that yoke of obedience which the highest pontiff has placed on you.
Moreover, in the Order do what you see to be to the honour of God; for the
great goodness of God demands this of us, and He has appointed us for
nothing else.

Behold what necessity we see in Holy Church; for we see her left utterly
alone! Thus the Truth showed, as I write you in another letter. And as the
Bride has been left solitary, so is her bridegroom. Oh, sweetest father, I
will not be silent to you of the great mysteries of God, but I will tell
them the most briefly that I can, so far as the frail tongue can express
them by telling. And further, I say to you what I want you to do. But
receive what I say to you without pain, for I do not know what the Divine
Goodness will do with me, whether It will have me remain here, or will
call me to Itself.

Father, father and sweetest son, wonderful mysteries has God wrought, from
the Day of the Circumcision till now; such that no tongue could suffice to
tell them. But let us pass over all that time, and come to Sexagesima
Sunday, when occurred, as I am writing you briefly, those mysteries which
you shall hear: never have I seemed to bear anything like them. For the
pain in my heart was so great, that the tunic which clothed me burst, as
much as I could clasp of it; and I circled around in the chapel like a
person in spasms. He who had held me had surely taken away my life. Then,
Monday coming, in the evening I was constrained to write to Christ on
earth and to three cardinals. So I had myself helped, and went into the
study. And when I had written to Christ on earth, I had no way of writing
more, the pains had so greatly increased in my body. And, waiting a
little, the terror of demons began, in such wise that they stunned me
entirely; raging against me as if I, worm that I am, had been the means of
taking from their hands what they had possessed a long time in Holy
Church. So great was the terror, with the bodily pain, that I wanted to
fly from the study and go to the chapel--as if the study had been the
cause of my pains. So I rose up, and not being able to walk, I leaned on
my son Barduccio. But suddenly I was thrown down; and lying there, it
seemed to me as if my soul were parted from my body; not in such wise as
when it really was parted, for then my soul tasted the good of the
Immortals, receiving that Highest Good together with them; but this now
seemed like a special case, for I did not seem to be in the body, but I
saw my body as if it had been someone else. And my soul, seeing the grief
of him who was with me, wished to know if I had any power over the body,
to say to him: "Son, do not fear"; and I saw that I could not move the
tongue or any member of it, any more than a body quite dead. Then I let
the body stay just as it was; and the intellect was fixed on the abyss of
the Trinity. Memory was full of recollection of the need of Holy Church
and of all the Christian people; and I cried before His Face, and demanded
divine help with assurance, offering to Him my desires, and constraining
Him by the Blood of the Lamb and the pains that had been borne. And so
eager was the demand that it seemed to me sure that He would not deny that
petition. Then I asked for all you others, praying Him that He would
fulfil in you His will and my desires. Then I asked that He would save me
from eternal condemnation. And while I stayed thus for a very long time,
so that the Family was mourning me as dead, at this point all the terror
of the demons was gone away. Then the Presence of the Humble Lamb came
before my soul, saying: "Fear not: for I will fulfil thy desires, and
those of My other servants. I will that thou see that I am a good master,
who plays the potter, unmaking and remaking vessels as His pleasure is.
These My vessels I know how to unmake and remake; and therefore I take the
vessel of thy body, and remake it in the garden of Holy Church, in
different wise than in past time." And as this Truth held me close, with
ways and words most charming, which I pass over, the body began to breathe
a little, and to show that the soul was returned to its vessel. Then I was
full of wonder. And such pain remained in my heart that I have it there
still. All pleasure and all refreshment and all food was then taken away
from me. Being carried afterward into a place above, the room appeared
full of devils: and they began to wage another battle, the most terrible
that I ever had, trying to make me believe and see that I was not she who
was in the body, but an impure spirit. I, having invoked the divine help
with a sweet tenderness, refusing no labour, yet said: "God, listen for my
help! Lord, haste Thee to help me! Thou hast permitted that I be alone in
this battle, without the refreshment of the father of my soul, of whom I
am deprived for my ingratitude."

Two nights and two days passed in these tempests. It is true that mind and
desire received no break, but remained ever fixed on their object; but the
body seemed almost to have failed. Afterward, on the Day of the
Purification of Mary, I wished to hear Mass. Then all the mysteries were
renewed; and God showed the great need that existed, as later appeared;
for Rome has all been on the point of revolution, backbiting
disgracefully, and with much irreverence. Only that God has poured oil on
their hearts, and I think the thing will have a good end. Then God imposed
this obedience on me, that during the whole of this holy season of Lent I
should offer in sacrifice the desires of all the Family, and have Mass
celebrated before Him with this one intention alone--that is, for Holy
Church--and that I should myself hear a Mass every morning at dawn--a
thing which you know is impossible to me; but in obedience to Him all
things have been possible. And this desire has become so much a part of my
flesh, that memory retains nothing else, intellect can see nothing else,
and will can desire nothing else. Not so much that the soul turns aside
from things here below for this reason--but, conversing with the True
Citizens, it neither can nor will rejoice in their joy, but in their
hunger, which they still feel, and which they felt while pilgrims and
wayfarers in this life.

In this way, and many others which I cannot tell, my life is consumed and
shed for this sweet Bride: I by this road, and the glorious martyrs with
blood. I pray the Divine Goodness soon to let me see the redemption of His
people. When it is the hour of terce, I rise from Mass, and you would see
a dead woman go to St. Peter's; and I enter anew to labour in the ship of
Holy Church. There I stay thus till near the hour of vespers: and from
this place I would depart neither day nor night until I see this people at
least a little steadily established in peace with their father. This body
of mine remains without any food, without even a drop of water: in such
sweet physical tortures as I never at any time endured; insomuch that my
life hangs by a thread. Now I do not know what the Divine Goodness will do
with me: as far as my feelings go, I do not say that I perceive His will
in this matter; but as to my physical sensations, it seems to me that this
time I am to confirm them with a new martyrdom in the sweetness of my
soul--that is, for Holy Church; then, perhaps, He will make me rise again
with Him. He will put so an end to my miseries and to my crucified
desires. Or He may employ His usual ways to strengthen my body. I have
prayed and pray His mercy that His will be fulfilled in me, and that He
leave not you or the others orphans. But may He ever guide you in the way
of the doctrine of Truth, with true and very perfect light. I am sure that
He will do it.

Now I pray and constrain you, father, and son given by that sweet Mother,
Mary, that you feel that if God is turning the eye of His mercy upon me,
He wills to renew your life; and as dead to all fleshly impulse do you
cast yourself into that ship of Holy Church. And be always discreet in
your conversations. You will be able to have the actual cell little; but I
wish you to have the cell of the heart always, and always carry it with
you. For as you know, while we are locked therein enemies can do us no
wrong. Then every act you shall do will be guided and ordered of God.
Also, I beg you that you ripen your heart with holy and true prudence; and
that your life be an example to worldly men by your never conforming to
the world's customs. May that generosity toward the poor and that
voluntary poverty which you have always practised, be renewed and
refreshed in you with true and perfect humility. Do not slacken in these,
for any dignity or exaltation that God may give you, but descend more deep
into that Valley of Humility, rejoicing in the table of the Cross. There
receive the food of souls: embracing the Mother, humble, faithful, and
continual prayer, and holy vigil: celebrating every day, unless for some
special reason. Flee idle and light talking, and be and show yourself
mature in your speech and in every way. Cast from you all tenderness for
yourself and all servile fear; for the sweet Church has no need of such
folk, but of persons cruel to themselves and compassionate to her. These
are the things which I beg you to study to observe. Also I beg you that
you and Brother Bartolomeo and Brother Tommaso and the Master should
gather together in your hands the book, and any writing of mine that you
might find, and do with them what you see will be most to the honour of
God: you and Misser Tommaso too--things in which I found some recreation.
I beg you also, that so far as shall be possible to you, you be a shepherd
and ruler to this Family, as a father, keeping them in the joy of charity
and in perfect union; that they be not scattered as sheep without a
shepherd. And I think to do more for them and for you after my death than
in my life. I shall pray the Eternal Truth that He pour forth upon you
others all plenitude of grace and gifts which He may have given to my
soul, so that you may be lights placed in a candlestick. I beg you to pray
the Eternal Bridegroom that He make me manfully fulfil His obedience, and
pardon me the multitude of my iniquities. And I beg you that you pardon me
every disobedience, irreverence, and ingratitude which I showed to you or
committed against you, and all pain and bitterness which I may have caused
you: and the slight zeal which I have had for our salvation. And I ask you
for your blessing.

Pray earnestly for me, and have others pray, for the love of Christ
crucified. Pardon me, that I have written you words of bitterness. I do
not write them, however, to cause you bitterness, but because I am in
doubt, and do not know what the Goodness of God will do with me. I wish to
have done my duty. And do not feel regret because we are separated one
from the other in the body; although you would have been the very greatest
consolation to me, greater are my consolation and gladness to see the
fruit that you are bearing in Holy Church. And now I beg you to labour yet
more zealously, for she never had so great a need: and do you never depart
for any persecution without permission from our lord the Pope. Comfort you
in Christ sweet Jesus, without any bitterness. I say no more to you.
Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.

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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