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Letters of Catherine Benincasa by Catherine Benincasa

C >> Catherine Benincasa >> Letters of Catherine Benincasa




This is the sweet and holy fashion observed by those who are wholly
inspired of Christ; for in this wise they have uprooted perverted pride,
and that marrow of impatience of which we said above that it was very
pleasing to the devil, because it is the beginning and occasion of every
sin; and on the contrary that as it is very pleasing to the devil, so it
is very displeasing to God. Pride displeases Him and humility pleases Him.
So greatly did the virtue of humility please Him in Mary that He was
constrained to give her the Word His Only-Begotten Son and she was the
sweet mother who gave Him to us. Know well, that until Mary showed by her
spoken words her humility and pure will, when she said: "Ecce Ancilla
Domini, be it done unto me according to Thy word"--the Son of God was not
incarnate in her; but when she had said this, she conceived within herself
that sweet and Spotless Lamb--the Sweet Primal Truth showing thereby how
excellent is this little virtue, and how much the soul receives that
offers and presents its will in humility to its Creator. So then--in the
time of labours and persecutions, of insults and injuries inflicted by
one's neighbour, of mental conflicts and deprivation of spiritual
consolations, by the Creator or the creature, (by the Creator in His
gentleness, when He withdraws the feeling of the mind, so that it does not
seem as if God were in the soul, so many are its pains and conflicts--and
by fellow-creatures, in conversation or amusement, or when the soul thinks
that it loves more than it is loved)--in all these things, I say that the
soul perfected by humility says: "My Lord, behold Thy handmaid: be it done
unto me according to Thy word, and not according to what I want with my
senses." So it sheds the fragrance of patience, around the Creator and its
fellow-creature and itself. It has peace and quiet in its mind, and it has
found peace in warfare, because it has driven far from it its self-will
founded in pride, and has conceived divine grace in its soul. And it bears
in its mind's breast Christ crucified, and rejoices in the Wounds of
Christ crucified, and seeks to know naught but Christ crucified; and its
bed is the Cross of Christ crucified. There it annuls its own will, and
becomes humble and obedient.

For there is no obedience without humility, nor humility without charity.
This is shown by the Word, for in obedience to His Father and in humility,
He ran to the shameful death of the Cross, nailing and binding Him with
the nails and bands of charity, and enduring in such patience that no cry
of complaint was heard from Him. For nails were not enough to hold God-
and-Man nailed and fastened on the Cross had Love not held Him there. This
I say that the soul feels; therefore it will not joy otherwise than with
Christ crucified. For could it attain to virtue and escape Hell and have
eternal life, without sufferings, and have in the world consolations
spiritual and temporal, it would not wish them; but it desires rather to
suffer, enduring even unto death, than to have eternal life in any other
way: only let it conform itself with Christ crucified, and clothe it with
His shames and pains. It has found the table of the Spotless Lamb.

Oh, glorious virtue! Who would not give himself to death a thousand times,
and endure any suffering through desire to win thee? Thou art a queen, who
dost possess the entire world; thou dost inhabit the enduring life; for
while the soul that is arrayed in thee is yet mortal, thou makest it abide
by force of love with those who are immortal. Since, then, this virtue is
so excellent and pleasing to God and useful to us and saving to our
neighbour, arise, dearest daughter, from the sleep of negligence and
ignorance, casting to earth the weakness and frailty of thy heart, that it
feel no suffering nor impatience over anything that God permits to us, so
that we may not fall either into the common kind of impatience, or into
the special kind, as we were saying before, but serve our sweet Saviour
manfully, with liberty of heart and true perfect patience. If we do
otherwise, we shall lose grace by the first sort of impatience, and by the
second we shall hinder our state of perfection; and you would not attain
that to which God has called you.

It seems that God is calling you to great perfection. And I perceive it by
this, that He takes away from you every tie that might hinder it in you.
For as I have heard, it seems that He has called to Himself your daughter,
who was your last tie with the outer world. For which thing I am deeply
content, with a holy compassion, that God should have set you free, and
taken her from her labours. Now then, I want that you should wholly
destroy your own will, that it may cling to nothing but Christ crucified.
In this way you will fulfil His will and my desire. Therefore, not knowing
any other way in which you could fulfil it, I said to you that I desired
to see you established in true and holy patience, because without this we
cannot reach our sweet goal. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet
grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO SISTER EUGENIA, HER NIECE
AT THE CONVENT OF SAINT AGNES OF MONTEPULCIANO


Two nieces, daughters of Bartolo Benincasa, were nuns in the Convent of
Montepulciano. To one of them the following letter is addressed. One can
read between the lines a lively solicitude. Never cloistered herself,
Catherine had a close intimacy with cloisters, and knew their best and
worst. She held in hearty and loyal respect the opportunities which they
offered for leading an exalted life; to this Convent of St. Agnes she was
peculiarly attached. At the same time, she was well aware, as other
letters beside the present show, that even the best of cloisters afforded
at this time scant shelter to young girls from emotional temptation, gross
or fine. Her warnings to her niece have the authoritative tone of anxiety.
Let us hope that Eugenia took them to heart; and that, leading the
disciplined life of Catherine's desire, she became not unworthy to receive
and apprehend in its full beauty the penetrating meditation on Prayer
which forms the second part of the letter. The thoughts of this
meditation, like many others in Catherine's letters, will be found
amplified in her Dialogue--a colloquy between God and her soul, composed
and dictated in trance during the year 1378. The following quotation
illustrates an interesting passage of the letter:--

"In this way, vocal prayer can be useful to the soul and do Me pleasure,
and from imperfect vocal prayer it can advance by persevering practice to
perfect mental prayer. But if it aims simply to complete its number (of
paternosters), or if it gave up mental prayer for the sake of vocal, it
would never arrive at perfection. Sometimes, when a soul has made a
resolution to say a certain number of prayers, I may visit its mind, now
in one way, now in another: at one time with the light of self-knowledge
and contrition over its lightness, at another, with the largesse of My
charity; at another, by putting before its mind, in diverse manner as may
please Me, and as that soul may have craved, the Presence of My Truth. And
the soul will be so ignorant that it will turn from My Visitation, in
order to complete its number, from a conscientious scruple against giving
up what it began. It ought not to do thus, for this would be a wile of the
devil. But at once, when it feels its mind ready for My Visitation, in any
way, as I said, it should abandon the vocal prayer. Then, when the mental
has passed, if there is time it can resume the other, which it had planned
to say. But if there is not time it must not care nor be troubled or
bewildered."


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 taste the food of angels, since thou art made for no
other end; and that thou mightest taste it, God bought thee with the Blood
of His Only-Begotten Son. But reflect, dearest daughter, that this food is
not taken upon earth, but on high, and therefore the Son of God chose to
be lifted up upon the wood of the Most Holy Cross, in order that we might
receive this food upon this table on high. But thou wilt say to me: What
is this food of angels? I reply to thee: it is the desire of God, which
draws to itself the desire that is in the depths of the soul, and they
make one thing together.

This is a food which while we are pilgrims in this life, draws to itself
the fragrance of true and sincere virtues, which are prepared by the fire
of divine charity, and received upon the table of the cross. That is,
virtue is won by pain and weariness, casting down one's own fleshly
nature;--the kingdom of one's soul which is called Heaven (_cielo_)
because it hides (_cela_) God within it by patience, is seized with force
and violence. This is the food that makes the soul angelic, and therefore
it is called the food of angels; and also because the soul, separated from
the body, tastes God in His essential Being. He satisfies the soul in such
wise that she longs for no other thing nor can desire aught but what may
help her more perfectly to keep and increase this food, so that she holds
in hate what is contrary to it. Therefore, like a prudent person, she
looks with the light of most holy faith, which is in the eye of the mind,
and beholds what is harmful and what is useful to her. And as she has
seen, so she loves and condemns--holding, I say, her own fleshly nature
and all the vices which proceed from it, bound beneath the feet of her
affections. She flees all causes that may incline her to vice or hinder
her perfection. So she annuls her self-will, which is the cause of all
evil, and subjects it to the yoke of holy obedience, not only to the Order
and its chief, but to every least creature through God. She flees all
glory and human indulgence, and glories only in the shames and sorrows of
Christ crucified: insults, outrage, ridicule, injuries, are milk to her;
she joys in them, to be conformed with the Bridegroom, Christ crucified.
She renounces conversation with fellow-beings, because she sees that they
often intervene between us and our Creator, and she flees to the actual
and to the mental cell.

To this I summon thee and the others: and I command thee, dearest daughter
mine, that thou abide for ever in the cell of self-knowledge, where we
find the angelic food of the eager desire of God toward us; and in the
actual cell, with vigil and humble faithful continual prayer, divesting
thy heart and mind of every creature, and clothing them with Christ
crucified. Otherwise thou wouldst eat upon the earth, and there I have
already said to thee, one should not eat. Reflect that thy Bridegroom,
Christ sweet Jesus, wishes naught between thee and Him, and is very
jealous. So as soon as He saw that thou didst love any thing apart from
Him, He would go from thee, and thou wouldst be made worthy to eat the
food of beasts. And wouldst thou not truly be a beast, and food for
beasts, didst thou leave the Creator for the creature, and infinite good
for finite and transitory things that pass like the winds, light for
darkness, life for death, Him who clothes thee in the sun of justice with
the clasp of obedience, and pearls of living faith, firm hope, and perfect
charity, for him who robs thee of them? And wouldst thou not be foolish
indeed to depart from Him who gives thee perfect purity--so that the
closer thou dost cling to Him, the more the flower of thy virginity is
refined--for those who many a time and oft shed a stench of impurity,
defiling mind and body? God avert them from thee by His infinite mercy!

And in order that no such thing may ever happen to thee, be on thy guard:
let not thy misfortune be such as to enter into any private conversation,
with monk or layman. For if I were to know or hear it, even if I were much
farther away than I am, I would give thee such a discipline that it would
stay in thy memory all thy whole life; never mind who may be by. Beware
neither to give nor receive, except in case of need, helping every one in
common within and without. Be steadfast and mature in thyself. Serve the
sisters tenderly, with all vigilance, especially those whom thou seest in
need. When guests pass by and ask for thee at the gratings, abide in thy
peace and do not go--but let them say to the prioress what they wanted to
say to thee, unless she commands thee to go on thy obedience. Then, hold
thy head bowed, and be as savage as a hedgehog. Keep in thy mind the
manners which that glorious virgin Saint Agnes made her daughters observe.
Go to confession and tell thy need; and when thou hast received thy
penance, run. Beware, moreover, that thy confessors be not from the men
who have brought thee up. And do not wonder because I talk so; for many a
time thou mayest have heard me say, and it is the truth, that the talk of
so-called pious men and women, full of depraved expressions, ruins the
souls and the habits and practices of Religious. Beware that thou bind thy
heart to none but Christ crucified; for the hour would come when thou
wouldst wish to set it free and couldst not, which would be very hard for
thee. I say that the soul which has tasted of the food of angels has seen
in the light that this and the other things we were speaking of are an
obstacle between itself and its food, and therefore flees them with the
greatest zeal. I say that it loves and seeks what may increase and
preserve it. And because it has seen that this food is better enjoyed by
means of prayer offered in self-knowledge, therefore it exercises itself
therein continually by all the ways in which it can hold closer to God.

Prayer is of three sorts. The one is perpetual: it is the holy perpetual
desire, which prays in the sight of God, whatever thou art doing; for this
desire directs all thy works, spiritual and corporal, to His honour, and
therefore it is called perpetual. Of this it seems that Saint Paul the
glorious was talking when he said: Pray without ceasing. The other kind is
vocal prayer, when the offices or other prayers are said aloud. This is
ordained to reach the third--that is, mental prayer: your soul reaches
this when it uses vocal prayer in prudence and humility, so that while the
tongue speaks the heart is not far from God. But one must exert one's self
to hold and establish one's heart in the force of divine charity. And
whenever one felt one's mind to be visited by God, so that it was drawn to
think of its Creator in any wise, it ought to abandon vocal prayer, and to
fix its mind with the force of love upon that wherein it sees God visit
it; then, if it has time, when this has ceased, it ought to take up the
vocal prayer again, in order that the mind may always stay full and not
empty. And although many conflicts of diverse kinds should abound in
prayer, and darkness of mind with much confusion, the devil making the
soul feel that her prayer was not pleasing to God--nevertheless, she ought
not to give up on account of those conflicts and shadows, but to abide
firm in fortitude and long perseverance, considering that the devil so
does to draw her away from prayer the mother, and God permits it to test
the fortitude and constancy of that soul. Also, in order that by those
conflicts and shadows she may know herself not to be, and in the goodwill
which she feels preserved within her may know the goodness of God, Who is
Giver and Preserver of good and holy wills: such wills as are not
vouchsafed to all who want them.

By this means she attains to the third and last--mental prayer, in which
she receives the reward for the labours she underwent in her imperfect
vocal prayer. Then she tastes the milk of faithful prayer. She rises above
herself--that is, above the gross impulses of the senses--and with angelic
mind unites herself with God by force of love, and sees and knows with the
light of thought, and clothes herself with truth. She is made the sister
of angels; she abides with her Bridegroom on the table of crucified
desire, rejoicing to seek the honour of God and the salvation of souls;
since well she sees that for this the Eternal Bridegroom ran to the
shameful death of the Cross, and thus fulfilled obedience to the Father,
and our salvation. This prayer is surely a mother, who conceives virtues
by the love of God, and brings them forth in the love of the neighbour.
Where dost thou show love, faith, and hope, and humility? In prayer. For
thou wouldst never take pains to seek the thing which thou didst not love;
but he who loves would ever be one with what he loves--that is, God. By
means of prayer thou askest of Him thy necessity; for knowing thyself--the
knowledge on which true prayer is founded--thou seest thyself to have
great need. Thou feelest thyself surrounded by thine enemies--by the world
with its insults and its recalling of vain pleasures, by the devil with
his many temptations, by the flesh with its great rebellion and struggle
against the spirit. And thou seest that in thyself thou art not; not
being, thou canst not help thyself; and therefore thou dost hasten in
faith to Him who is, who can and will help thee in thine every need, and
thou dost hopefully ask and await His aid. Thus ought prayer to be made,
if thou wishest to have that which thou awaitest. Never shall any just
thing be denied thee which thou askest in this wise from the Divine
Goodness; but if thou dost in other wise, little fruit shalt thou receive.
Where shalt thou feel grief in thy conscience? In prayer. Where shalt thou
divest thee of the self-love which makes thee impatient in the time of
insults and of other pains, and shalt clothe thee in the divine love which
shall make thee patient, and shalt glory in the Cross of Christ crucified?
In prayer. Where shalt thou breathe the perfume of virginity and the
hunger for martyrdom, holding thee ready to give thy life for the honour
of God and the salvation of souls? In this sweet mother, prayer. This will
make thee an observer of thy Rule: it will seal in thy heart and mind
three solemn vows which thou didst make at thy profession, leaving there
the imprint of the desire to observe them until death. This releases thee
from conversation with fellow-creatures, and gives thee converse with thy
Creator; it fills the vessel of thy heart with the Blood of the Humble
Lamb, and crowns it with flame, because with flame of love that Blood was
shed.

The soul receives and tastes this mother Prayer more or less perfectly,
according as it nourishes itself with the food of angels--that is, with
holy and true desire for God, raising itself on high, as I said, to
receive it upon the table of the most sweet Cross. Therefore I said to
thee that I desired to see thee nourished with angelic food, because I see
not that in otherwise thou couldst be a true bride of Christ crucified,
consecrated to Him in holy religion. So do that I may see thee a jewel
precious in the sight of God. And do not go about wasting thy time. Bathe
and drown thee in the sweet Blood of thy Bridegroom. I say no more. Remain
in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO NANNA, DAUGHTER OF BENINCASA
A LITTLE MAID, HER NIECE, IN FLORENCE


This tender and playful little letter, with its childlike simplicity of
fancy and gentle authority of tone, encourages us to believe that
Catherine appreciated the full advantages of being an aunt. We have other
indications that the many spiritual ties which held her as she grew older
never weakened the bond of any natural affection. Indeed, Catherine re-
created each natural bond, when possible, as a spiritual bond, an
achievement none too common. Doubtless, many children grew up around her
in the large Benincasa household. We know that at the time of the plague,
in 1374, Lapa was bringing up eleven grandchildren in her own house. Of
these, eight fell victims to the pestilence, and we have a glimpse of
Catherine burying them with her own hands, and saying as she laid them to
rest one by one, "This one, at least, I shall not lose." Of the little
Nanna to whom this letter was written we know nothing, except that she was
the child of the elder brother, who, as we have already seen, had moved to
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 a real bride of Christ crucified, running away from
everything which might hinder thee from possessing this sweet and glorious
Bridegroom. But thou couldst not do this if thou wert not among those wise
virgins consecrated to Christ who had lamps with oil in them, and light
was within. See, then, if thou wishest to be a bride of Christ, thou must
have lamp, and oil, and light. Dost thou know what this means, daughter
mine? By the lamp is meant our heart, because a heart ought to be made
like a lamp. Thou seest that a lamp is wide above and narrow below, and so
the heart is made, to signify that we ought always to keep it wide above,
through holy thoughts and holy imaginations and continual prayer; always
holding in memory the blessings of God, and chiefly the blessing of the
Blood by which we are bought. For Blessed Christ, my daughter, did not buy
us with gold or silver or pearls or other precious stones; nay, He bought
us with His precious Blood. So one wants never to forget so great a
blessing, but always to hold it before one's eyes, in holy and sweet
gratitude, seeing how immeasurably God loves us: who did not shrink from
giving His only begotten Son to the opprobrious death of the Cross, to
give us the life of grace.

I said that a lamp is narrow below, and so is our heart: to signify that
the heart ought to be narrow toward these earthly things--that is, it must
not desire nor love them extravagantly, nor hunger for more than God wills
to give us; but ever thank Him, seeing how sweetly He provides for us so
that we never lack anything.

Now in this way, our heart will really be a lamp. But reflect, daughter
mine, that this would not be enough were there no oil within. By oil is
meant that sweet little virtue, profound humility: for it is fitting that
the bride of Christ be humble and gentle and patient; and she will be as
humble as she is patient, and as patient as she is humble. But we cannot
attain this virtue of humility except by true knowledge of ourselves,
knowing our misery and frailty, and that we by ourselves can do no good
deed, nor escape any conflict or pain; for if we have a bodily infirmity,
or a pain or conflict in our minds, we cannot escape it or remove it--for
if we could we should escape from it swiftly. So it is quite true that we
in ourselves are nothing other than infamy, misery, stench, frailty, and
sins; wherefore, we ought always to abide low and humble. But to abide
wholly in such knowledge of one's self would not be good, because the soul
would fall into weariness and confusion; and from confusion it would fall
into despair: so the devil would like nothing better than to make us fall
into confusion, to drive us afterward to despair. We ought, then, to abide
in the knowledge of the goodness of God in Himself, perceiving that He has
created us in His image and likeness, and re-created us in grace by the
Blood of His only-begotten Son, the sweet incarnate Lord; and reflecting
how continually the goodness of God works in us. But see, that to abide
entirely in this knowledge of God would not be good, because the soul
would fall into presumption and pride. So it befits us to have one mixed
with the other--that is, to abide in the holy knowledge of the goodness of
God, and also in the knowledge of ourselves: and so we shall be humble,
patient, and gentle, and in this way we shall have oil in our lamp.

Now, then, we must have light--otherwise it would not be enough. This
light has to be the light of most holy faith. But the saints say that
faith without works is dead, so our faith might be neither living nor
holy, but dead. Therefore we need to exert ourselves virtuously all the
time, and leave our childishness and vanities, and not behave any longer
like worldly girls, but like faithful brides consecrated to Christ
crucified; in this way we shall have a lamp, and oil, and light.

The Gospel says that these wise virgins were five. So I tell thee that
there must be five in each of us--otherwise we shall not enter the wedding
feast of eternal life.

By these five it is meant that we must subject and mortify our five bodily
senses, in such wise that we may never offend with them, taking through
them or some of them unregulated pleasure or delight. In this way we shall
be five, when we have subdued our five senses.

But think that that sweet Bridegroom Christ is more jealous of His brides
than I could tell thee! Therefore if He should see that thou didst love
anyone more than Him, He would be angry with thee at once. And if thou
didst not correct thyself, the door would not be open to thee, to the
wedding feast which Christ the Lamb without spot holds for all His
faithful: but we should be driven away like bad women, as those five
foolish virgins were, who, glorying only and vainly in the integrity and
virginity of their body, lost the virginity of their soul, through the
corruption of the five senses, because they did not carry the oil of
humility with them, so that their lamps went out. Therefore it was said to
them: "Go hence to buy oil." By this oil is meant in this place the
flatteries and praises of men; since all the flatterers and praisers of
the world sell this oil. As if it were said to them: "You have not wanted
to buy eternal life with your virginity and your good works; no, you have
wanted to buy the praises of men, and to have the praises of men you have
wrought. Go now and buy praises, for you will not enter here." Therefore,
daughter mine, beware of the praises of men; and do not want praise for
any work that thou mayest do, for the door of eternal life would not be
open to thee later.

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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John Crace digests The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger
1000 novels is a seven-part series free with the Guardian and the Observer. Each day covers a different genre: love, crime, comedy, family & the self, state of the nation, sci-fi & fantasy and travel & adventure.

John Crace digests Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford

John Crace cuts Holden Caulfield's struggles with the phonies down to size