Catherine of Siena

  Before Easter she wrote to the Florentines and offered to be mediator between them and the Pope. As Raimondo had sent news which gave them great hope, they joyfully accepted her offer. At the beginning of May Catherine and her companions came for the second time to Florence.

  The Florentines accepted the interdict. No Masses were celebrated, a few priests were given authority to give the sacraments to the dying and to baptise babies, but otherwise there was an end of all pertaining to divine service. But the afflicted people went through a real religious awakening. Processions of penitents went through the streets scourging themselves while they sang Misereres. Some of the young nobles formed themselves into a brotherhood to devote themselves to works of mercy and good deeds. And Catherine was received as the only person who could bring them hope. . . .

  The Florentines became so pious that their rivals said that the whole thing was merely an exhibition of humility by which they hoped to make an advantageous peace with the Pope. It is true enough that the material results of the interdict were so annihilating for the merchant republic that they had to find a solution as soon as possible. Before the end of May Catherine and her friends had already started on the long journey to Avignon. In the company were her faithful friends, Lisa, Alessia, Cecca and her “youngest son”, Stefano Maconi, besides several others of her spiritual family. The Florentines promised to send ambassadors after her who should act on behalf of the town according to Catherine Benincasa’s advice. The Signoria of Florence, the government of the proudest of the Italian republics, had given the power to decide all matters of vital importance for its future greatness and well-being to a young woman who was regarded as a saint.

  XVI

  CATHERINE ARRIVED IN AVIGNON on June 18. The last part of the journey had been made in a little boat which carried her and her companions up the Rhone. Among the great crowds which awaited her on the quay were Fra Raimondo, Fra Giovanni Tantucci and her beloved son, Neri di Landoccio. But neither Raimondo, who met her, nor Stefano Maconi, who had travelled with her, has told us what Catherine thought when she looked for the first time on the town of the Pope beside a river in France. Avignon, behind its great walls, was one of the most strongly fortified towns of the time; towers, peaks and spires rose as though aspiring to heaven. Just beside the cathedral, Notre Dame des Doms, loomed the great papal castle, fortress and palace in one. To this day the old buildings stand proudly in their beauty and their might, a gigantic monument to one of the darkest and most fateful interludes in the long history of the Catholic Church.

  But the Italians had seen plenty of beautiful and magnificent buildings in their own country. What seems to us to-day to be the romantic inheritance of a time of terrible cruelty and warlike passions, but also a time of creative activity and love of beauty unequalled in the history of Europe, was for Catherine the everyday background of her extraordinary life, spent in intimate commerce with the invisible world and in hard work in the world of men and women. Perhaps her large and brilliant eyes dwelt on the buildings on the other side of the Rhone with deep emotion; at the other end of the famous bridge of Avignon the watch tower of the King of France lifted its proud head. Yes, there was France; Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, the kingdom of the French king, lay in this country. The country of the enemy, since French influence had always been used to keep the Pope prisoner in this beautiful land of Provence. Some of the French cardinals lived there on the other side of the river.

  The Italians were taken to the lodgings which the Pope had prepared for Catherine of Siena. They were in a palace which had belonged to a cardinal who had recently died. But Catherine could find herself a room which suited her ascetic taste, and there was an oratory to which she could retire to pray. In the course of the work which she now had before her she would need ceaseless support from her heavenly Bridegroom, who had led His bride far from the dyer’s house in Fontebranda to the foot of the throne of His Vicar on earth. And the fragile and humble young woman was to speak to this Vicar with the authority of Jesus Christ.

  Two days after her arrival in Avignon Catherine was received by the Pope. Raimondo was present to act as interpreter, for Catherine spoke only her native Tuscan language, and the Frenchman, Latin. Catherine understood enough of the language to be able to read the breviary, but she could not manage to conduct a conversation in Latin. But Gregory was so deeply impressed by the sound common sense and the deep spiritual insight of this woman who had sent him such outspoken letters, that before the conversation was over he had laid the whole matter of the Florentines in her hands. He asked her to realise that he too was filled with a deep longing to put an end to the terrible war, but “do not forget the Church’s dignity.”

  But the ambassadors from Florence, who were to follow immediately after Catherine, did not appear. On July 26th she wrote to the Eight War Lords and advised them to prove that they really desired to put an end to the war with the papacy. The fact that they had recently put a tax on the clergy looked to her like a step backwards on the road to peace. “I have spoken with the Holy Father, and he has listened to me with great mildness. . . . He has shown that he truly loves peace and that as a good father he is willing to overlook the offences which his sons have committed against him, but it is necessary for the sons to humiliate themselves so that the father can forgive them completely. I cannot tell you how happy I was when after a long conversation with me he said that he was willing to receive his children and to do what I thought best.” But she is astonished that the ambassadors have not arrived—nothing can be concluded without them. So they must come without delay.

  Gregory said to her in one of their conversations: “The Florentines are making fools of both you and me. Either they will not send any ambassadors at all, or else when they come you will see that they have not the necessary authority.” He was right. From July 6 a new government had ruled in Florence, and this government did not wish for peace. They sent three ambassadors merely to cover up their true intentions.

  In the meantime Gregory too had succumbed to Catherine’s power over the souls of men. He was completely convinced that this woman was one of God’s saints. When she spoke openly to him of the abuses practised by priests and prelates, which caused such terrible ruin within the Church, she also condemned the luxury in the papal court and the vices which flourished under the very eyes of the Pope. Here where all the heavenly virtues should flower she smelled the stink of hell’s putrefaction. Gregory interrupted her: “How have you, who have been here such a short time, got such knowledge of all that goes on here?” Catherine’s attitude towards the Vicar of Christ was one of the deepest humility, but now she straightened up suddenly, looked him in the face, and spoke as boldly as one prince to another. “To the glory of Almighty God I am bound to say that I smelled the stink of the sins which flourish in the papal court while I was still at home in my own town more sharply than those who have practised them, and do practise them, every day here.”

  Rumours about the saintly Sienese woman naturally caused curiosity in the papal court. Among the most curious were the women who swarmed everywhere where they had no business to be—sisters and nieces of cardinals, distant relations and concubines. Some believed firmly in her and willingly allowed her to advise them so that they might become better Christians. Others made no secret of the fact that they were afraid of her influence. Still others made fun of the whole matter. Some simply thought it was all very exciting and crowded to her chapel to stare when she lay in ecstasy. The sister of the Pope, the Duchess of Valentinois, was so much moved by the sight that from that time onwards she honestly and truly tried to put the whole of her soul into her prayers. But young Alys de Turenne, who was married to the Pope’s nephew, stuck a large needle in Catherine’s foot to see whether it was true that she felt nothing. When Catherine regained consciousness the wound gave her such pain that she was not able to stand on the foot for several days.

  Catherine had the gift (which some other saints have had) of recognising a soul whic
h was living in mortal sin through the physical sensation of a smell of decay. Once a distinguished lady came to visit her; she seemed full of respect and godliness, but Catherine would not look at her and turned her face away each time the lady came near. Raimondo reproved her for being so impolite, but Catherine said to him: “If you had smelled the stink of her sins you would have done the same.” A little later Raimondo learned that this “lady” was a whore and living in concubinage with a priest.

  Three of the most learned prelates at the court came to examine and try to confound this ignorant woman whose influence over the Pope seemed so dangerous for French interests. At first they questioned her most arrogantly about her mission for the Florentines—was it really true that the government had sent her, as she made out? Could it be possible that there was no man who could act for them in such an important affair, and that they had to turn to an unimportant little woman like herself? Politely and patiently Catherine explained how it had come about that she had been sent, and against their will the prelates felt the influence of her charm. But they continued, asked her about her way of life, her visions, her fasting—and how could she be certain that it was not the devil who was ensnaring her? The discussion passed onto the most difficult theological questions, and Fra Giovanni, who was present, and who had himself taken a couple of doctor’s degrees, tried to add a word here and there. The guests snapped at him: “Let her answer for herself, she does it much better than you.” The discussion lasted from Nones until night fell, and by the time the learned gentlemen said good-bye to her they had become convinced that the “insignificant little woman” had clearer insight into spiritual things than any doctor of theology. As they were upright and really learned men they went to the Pope and told him what had happened.

  She made other friends among members of the Roman Curia. One of them was Vice-Chancellor Bartolommeo Prignano, Archbishop of Acerenza. He was a model of virtue and righteousness, passionately desirous of weeding out the corruption and luxurious way of living in the Church. An excellent man in a subordinate position—his hardness and lust for revenge only became a menace to his honest attempts at reform when he succeeded Gregory XI as Pope Urban VI.

  While the Florentine ambassadors still failed to appear, Catherine was received several times by the Pope and had plenty of opportunity of talking to him of the things which lay nearest her heart—his return to Rome and the call to the whole of Christendom for a new crusade. Gregory had occasionally talked of his longing to move the Holy See back to the town of St. Peter, and those who surrounded him saw with horror that he became more and more convinced that the Holy Spirit called him through the mouth of Catherine. The Pope is also Bishop of Rome, and they remembered that a little while before, when the Holy Father had reproached a bishop for his absence from his bishopric, the bishop had replied, “And you, Most Holy Father, why do you not return to your bride who is so rich and so beautiful?” The Pope had appeared greatly moved.

  But Catherine, who could see into men’s souls, knew more. Once when the Pope, who was extremely nervous, had asked her opinion on the matter—as though he did not know it from her letters—she replied humbly that it was not seemly for her to give advice to the Vicar of Christ. He answered, extremely irritably, that he did not ask for her advice, he asked her to tell him God’s will. Catherine replied: “Who knows God’s will so well as your Holiness, for have you not bound yourself by a vow—” Greatly shaken, Gregory stared at the young woman. He had made a vow that he would return to Rome if he were ever chosen to be Pope—it was while he was still a cardinal. But he had never told a living soul. From that moment he knew that he would have to leave Avignon. But he knew too how many hindrances he would have to overcome before he could do so. It was an agony for his nervous nature, which was so afraid of wounding the feelings of his friends and relations.

  From Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, where Catherine had been persuaded to make a short visit to the wife of the Duke of Anjou in their castle, she wrote to Gregory and begged him not to listen to the cardinals who tried to prevent him from going to Rome. “I beg you from Christ crucified that it may please Your Holiness to act promptly. The more quickly you do it, the less you will suffer. . . . If God is with you none will be against you.”

  At length the Florentine ambassadors arrived. But when Catherine, in the presence of Raimondo, told them that the Pope had appointed her to negotiate with them for peace they replied shamelessly that they had no authority to treat with her, they had come to Avignon to speak with the Pope, not with a woman. . . . Nevertheless Catherine tried still to intercede for the Florentines. The Pope appointed two French cardinals to negotiate with them. But in spite of the terrible consequences of the interdict on the commerce of the republic, the ambassadors were not sent in good faith. The negotiations broke down, and in September the Florentine ambassadors were asked to leave Avignon. Home again in Florence they gave an account of their mission from their own point of view, and Florence’s Signoria decided to continue the war to suppress the Church’s temporal power. They now tried to strengthen the anti-papal league by winning the support of Venice and Genoa.

  So now Catherine’s sole work was to get the Pope to remove to Rome and start the crusade. She had won the Duke of Anjou over to the cause, so that he had promised to be one of the military leaders if the crusade were set on foot; and from his castle she wrote also to his brother, King Charles of France, to persuade him to join.

  A final attempt was made to get the Pope to change his mind; the French cardinals induced a person who was considered a saint to write and warn him that if he went to Rome he would certainly die. Gregory sent the letter on to Catherine, who called it the work of a devil in human shape, and with regard to the danger of being poisoned if he came to Rome, she remarked rather tartly that poison can be bought everywhere—“there is certainly just as much poison in Avignon as in Rome.”

  On September 13, a day or two after Catherine had started on her journey to Italy, Gregory left Avignon—for ever. He had taken Catherine’s advice and left suddenly, taking with him all the cardinals except six. The French cardinals in his retinue wept, and his relations who remained behind wailed and lamented. The Pope’s old father, Count Guillaume de Beaufort, knelt at the city gates, in despair at the departure of his son. Pope Gregory passed him without a word. . . .

  On October 2 he went on board the ship which was to take him from Marseilles to Genoa. The Pope wept, his French followers wept and lamented, but there was no way back. Jesus Christ’s words to Catherine many years before, when He said to His bride that He would use weak women as his ambassadors to the proud and powerful men of this world, had come true in a manner which makes Catherine of Siena’s destiny astonishing in the history of the world.

  XVII

  Catherine and her companions appear to have done most of the journey on foot. But each time she came to a town and stayed the night the people crowded to see this Sister of Penitence who had got the Pope to break out of his Babylonian captivity. Raimondo tells us that they were mobbed in Toulon by crowds who could not contain their curiosity, but also by people who hoped that she might be able to help them. An unhappy mother broke into Catherine’s room in the hostelry and laid her dying baby on the virgin’s lap. It recovered instantly.

  But when she finally set foot again on Italian earth, it seemed as though the holy joy which Catherine’s friends speak of so often was coloured by a natural human feeling of happiness: she shouted with joy at the sight of the earth covered with red flowers, or the milling life of an ant-heap. Everything our Creator has made is equally wonderful. “These tiny ants have proceeded from His thought just as much as I, it caused Him just as much trouble to create the angels as these animals and the flowers on the trees.” Passionately as Catherine longed for the salvation of every human soul, she loved her own town of Siena and all the lands where her own Italian people lived, with a healthy, uncomplicated passion.

  North of Genoa she went through a little town c
alled Varazze, which had been almost depopulated during the plague. Varazze had been the birthplace of Jacopo de Voragine, the author of The Golden Legend, which was the favourite book of the Middle Ages. Catherine advised a handful of the citizens who had survived the epidemic to build a chapel to his honour; they would then be freed from the plague. They did so and since then the plague has never returned to Varazze.

  The company of travellers was forced to remain a while in Genoa as one after another of them was taken ill. Madonna Orietta Scotti received them hospitably in her palace and had the best doctors of the town brought to those who were ill. But Neri di Landoccio had a very bad attack; he had high fever and such terrible internal pains that he could neither lie down nor sit, but crept on all fours from one bed to another “as though he were trying to escape from his sufferings”. Stefano Maconi and Neri had become close friends—another proof that egoistic jealousy did not exist among those who loved Catherine. Stefano was terribly worried, and begged their “mamma” not to let Neri die so far from home and be “buried in a strange land”. But it seemed as though Catherine intended to leave Neri in the hands of the doctors, and they gave no hope that he would live. So Stefano went to their mother again, and Catherine promised to pray for Neri the following morning when she went to Communion. And when she wakened from her ecstasy she could tell Stefano, with a smile, that God had promised to make Neri well again. But when, the following day, Stefano himself lay in bed with a high fever and an unbearable headache, Catherine came to his bedside at once and simply commanded the fever to depart. Immediately the fever left him.