The contents of the book came from Catherine’s lips during a series of visions and take the form of thoughts which are often repeated or which reappear constantly in new forms. Her mind is like the waves of the sea which break inwards over the same problems and then wash back again, then break again. The comparisons and symbols, some of them old favourites from earlier visions and letters, are repeated or given new meaning. No translation can do justice to the beauty, tenderness and pathos she expresses in her lovely Tuscan dialect, and which have made the Dialogue one of the masterpieces of Italian literature as well as a milestone in Catholic thinking.
God speaks to His daughter of the presumption of judging one’s neighbour, and explains to her how it is possible to work for the conversion of sinners, calling evil by its rightful name, but yet leave the judgment of them to God. He particularly warns Catherine against judging unworthy priests and monks. To wage war on the Church because its bad servants sin is itself a great sin. God who raised up His priests and clothed them in power and dignity will judge them Himself, and however wretched they may be they are still the ministers of the sacraments which nourish the life of grace in us. But Christ says, “My priests shall be high-minded men, not hired apprentices. They must not sell the grace of the Holy Spirit, which is Myself, for rewards.”
In the Dialogue God speaks too of the degeneration within the Church, and expresses Himself so uncompromisingly regarding bad priests and monks that some of the French translations which appeared at a time when anti-clericalism in France was at its most violent, simply omitted these chapters in Catherine’s book. She compares good priests and monks with suns which give life and warmth to the whole of Christendom. But woe to the priests and monks who are proud, practise simony, and intrigue to win honour and power among men. They waste the riches of the Church, which should be used for charitable work and for the upkeep of ecclesiastical buildings, on themselves and their concubines and bastards, or on their relations for whom they have exaggerated love. Instead of feeding Christ’s lambs they flay them and use their dishonest earnings for gambling and drinking. Nevertheless God says the same to us as His Truth says in the Gospel: “Do as they tell you, continue to keep the commandments they preach, but do not imitate their actions.”
But it almost broke Catherine’s heart to see so many abominations in the Church, and the great misery caused by them. God looks down with indescribable tenderness and consoles her: “Daughter, your refuge is to do honour to My name and offer ceaseless prayers, like incense, for the wretches who have deserved to be condemned for their crimes. Your refuge is in My only Son, Christ Crucified. . . . In His pierced heart you will find love for Me and your neighbour. . . . Fill yourself at the table of the cross, and bear with your neighbour with true patience, and bear patiently too all the pain, fear and toil, from whatever side they may attack you. In this way you shall win grace and escape the leprosy of the time.”
Catherine’s prayer is an answer to these words: “O eternal God, Your servants beg for mercy; answer them. As though I did not know that mercy is so divine that You cannot deny it to those who pray for it! They knock at the door of Truth, Your only Son, for they have recognised in Him Your infinite love towards mankind. If they knock at this door with passionate love, You will not, You cannot, refuse to open to those who pray ceaselessly. Open, therefore! Expand and melt the hardened hearts of Your creatures, not for the sake of those who knock, but for the sake of Your infinite goodness and for the sake of Your servant who prays to You for them. . . . And what do they demand of You? The blood of Your Truth, which is also the gate. They desire the blood with which You have washed away the stain of Adam’s sin. It belongs to us, this blood, for You have made us a bath of it. You cannot, You will not refuse it to those who pray for it. . . . ”
“Eternal Father, all things are possible for You. Although You created us without our assistance, You will not save us unless we help. Therefore I pray You, re-create their wills so that they wish for what they do not wish for: I ask this of Your infinite mercy. You have created us out of nothing. Now that we exist have mercy on us. Re-make the vessel which you created in Your own image and likeness. Bring them back to Your grace through the grace and blood of Your Son, the beloved Jesus Christ.” And, moved by her prayers, God condescends to explain to her how His providence is mercy, and nothing but mercy. To open the eyes of her understanding so that she may see this truth, He condescends to explain to her how He has heard her prayer for a soul which has gone from this life. It was finally saved for the sake of the love which it always had for the Mother of Jesus.
This part of the Dialogue is obscure, and it has never been made clear for which soul it was that Catherine had prayed so persistently. Perhaps the suicide from the summer before in the Orco valley? It is possible, but it may be another. Although world politics had now become Catherine’s field of action, she was still the same Catherine from Fontebranda who put the whole energy of her soul and the whole of her passionate personality into the salvation of the two wicked old women, Cecca and Andrea; the tearing of the souls of the two robbers out of the claws of the devil on the way to the place of execution; and the saving of the soul of Niccolo di Toldi, who rebelled against the righteousness of God because he was the victim of the injustice of men.
In her beautiful final prayer Catherine pours out her thanks for the treasures with which the Holy Trinity has filled her heart: “O eternal Trinity, You are a bottomless ocean. The more I throw myself into the ocean, the more I find You, and the more I find You the more I will search. I can never say of You—It is enough. . . As the hart longs for the running water of the spring, my soul longs to escape from the dark prison of my body to see You in truth. . . For in the light with which You have illuminated my intellect I have seen and tasted Your bottomless depths, O Eternal Trinity, and beauty of all that is created. . . O Eternal Trinity, You are the Creator, I am Your creature. In my redemption through the blood of Your Son I have recognised that You love the beauty of Your creatures. O abyss, O Eternal Divinity, bottomless ocean! Oh, what could You give me that is better than Yourself? You are the fire which burns eternally, and never dies. You are the fire which consumes self-love, You are the fire which melts all the frost and illumines all things, and it is in this light that You have taught me to know Your truth.”
With this outburst of burning gratitude she became silent. Stefano Maconi, who wrote most of her revelations—although Neri di Landoccio and Barduccio Canigiani had also written parts of them—stopped here. According to the custom of that time he added a few words to ask the reader to pray for him who had written. Stefano’s “signature” is always the same: “Pray to God for your useless brother.”
The book was finished on October 13, written without a break in four or five days. The division into chapters and sections has been arranged by the transcribers and publishers. In Catherine’s lifetime it was only circulated among her friends and disciples. But after her death it became known in wider circles, and transcriptions were made for monastery libraries both in her own and other orders. It was recognised that her teaching was inspired by the Holy Spirit, and not what she had learned from theologians. On the contrary, Catherine became recognised as a teacher of divine knowledge—as her disciples had always considered her to be.
Ser Cristofano di Gano Guidini tells us that he had just obtained a new and beautiful transcription of the Latin translation of the Dialogue, revised by Stefano Maconi, when he was visited by a French Cardinal of the Dominican order. He came with Fra Raimondo, who was now the Master General of the order. The Cardinal had met Catherine in Avignon many years before and had been deeply impressed by the remarkable personality of the Italian Mantellata. In the meantime Raimondo had told him so much about her that his interest in Catherine had been re-awakened. When Cristofano let him see the copy of the Dialogue, the Frenchman began to read here and there in it, and became so interested that he begged Ser Cristofano to give him the book. He would preach the teachings o
f Catherine to his own people; schism or no schism, the faithful in France should be nourished with the spiritual food which had been prepared by the woman who had flung the most violent accusations at the rival French pope in Avignon. Ser Cristofano had to let the Cardinal have the book. “I did not have it in my house more than a single night.” But, as he remarks, he had the original, so he could easily get a new transcription for his own use.
XXIII
AFTER HAVING, so to speak, disposed of her effects, Catherine started on her journey to Rome. But this time she had written beforehand to Raimondo and asked him to obtain a written order from Urban VI to leave Siena and come to Rome. For not only had many of her townspeople taken exception to her frequent journeys, but many of her sisters among the Mantellate had also done so. They considered that a virgin dedicated to God should keep in her cell and do good in secret. And although she had not a trace of guilty conscience on this ground, as she had never travelled anywhere except in obedience to God and His Vicar, she did not like to annoy her neighbours unnecessarily. The Pope sent her a written order, and Catherine was free to start her journey.
This time she travelled with a great company. With her were the faithful friends Lisa, Alessia and several other Sisters, her dear sons Neri di Landoccio and Barduccio Canigiani, the old hermit Fra Santo, who had now been her steadfast companion for several years, and a number of priests, among them Fra Bartolommeo Dominici and the Augustinian, Fra Giovanni Tantucci from Lecceto. There were many others too, and even more wanted to accompany her, but according to Raimondo Catherine would not allow it. Although many of her companions had left comfortable homes, the whole company had promised voluntarily to travel as beggars, trusting in God’s providence to supply them with alms on the way.
Lapa was to remain in the house in the Via Romana where she had lived since the old home in the Via dei Tintori had been broken up. But it was arranged that she should follow, when her daughter had arranged a house in Rome. Stefano Maconi also remained in Siena, most probably because his mother intervened—later at any rate she opposed him when he wished to join Catherine in Rome.
The company arrived in Rome on the first Sunday in Advent, November 28. The town Catherine came to was a town under arms. The Romans were besieging San Angelo, which the French garrison was holding for Clement. This meant that the Pope could not move into the Vatican, and so Urban lived at Santa Maria in Trastevere. In the country outside the city walls too, armies were on the march.
Catherine was immediately received by the Pope, who was overwhelmed with joy at meeting her again. He asked her to make a speech to the assembled cardinals, first and foremost about the schism, which had now become a fact. She did so in such a way that everyone was greatly moved. She encouraged them to show courage and determination, and brought forward many reasons for this. She explained how God’s providence watched over each individual in a special way in these times which brought such great suffering on Holy Church. Therefore, she said finally, they should not let themselves be frightened by the schism, but persevere and work for God without fear of men. When she finished her talk the Pope seemed extremely happy. He summed up what she had said, and added to the cardinals: “See, brothers, how guilty we must appear to God because we are without courage. This little woman puts us to shame. And when I call her a little woman [piccola donzella] I do not do so out of scorn, but because her sex is by nature fearful; but see how we tremble while she is strong and calm, and see how she consoles us with her words. How could the Vicar of Christ be afraid even though the whole world rise against him? Christ is stronger than the whole world, and it is impossible for Him to fail His Church.” With these words he encouraged himself and his brothers, praised the saint in her Lord, and granted Catherine and her company his blessing and indulgence.
A day or two later Urban suggested that Catherine and another virgin, also called Katherine, should go as his ambassadors to Queen Joanna of Naples, who now openly supported the schismatics. This other Katherine was the daughter of St. Birgitta and had come to Rome to arrange several matters connected with the convent in Vadstena which her mother had founded. But St. Karin of Vadstena, as the Swedes call her, blankly refused to visit Queen Joanna. The last time the Swedish girl had met the Queen of Naples was when she was on her way to Jerusalem with her mother and two of her brothers. For a while it seemed as though the many-times-married Joanna was listening to Birgitta’s advice and thinking of beginning a better life. But at the final audience when they were to take their leave, after Birgitta and her two younger children, Karin and the serious young Master Birger, had approached and kissed the Queen’s foot, as the custom demanded, the eldest brother went boldly forward and gave the Queen a resounding kiss on the mouth. The Swedish knight was a man of great beauty—his mother’s pride and sorrow, for she knew all too well that she was guilty of too much forbearance with this favourite child; she had been far too patient with his pride and frivolity. Unfortunately it has not been recorded whether he appeared before Joanna in the same costume which had once caused Pope Urban V to say something about its being almost too magnificent, although the Pope must have been used to seeing people spending enormous sums of money on their clothes. On Herr Karl’s chest the golden chain of knighthood glittered, and his cape of azure blue was lined with ermine—not merely the skins, but the small white animals were stuffed so cunningly that it looked as though they sported and tumbled about his tall and magnificent body every time he moved.
The Queen immediately fell violently in love with the handsome Swede. And although she was married to her fourth husband, and Herr Karl had a wife in Sweden, Joanna swore that she would marry Karl Ulfsson—they must arrange to get rid of their unwelcome partners. Birgitta was almost out of her mind with fear; for once her iron will could not achieve anything against the infatuated queen. She stormed heaven with prayers: God must save her son from falling into this mortal sin. Her prayers were heard. Herr Karl suddenly fell ill with a high fever, and two days later he died in his mother’s arms. Long weeks followed during which all Birgitta’s prayers were for her son’s soul. Finally she was granted a vision in which she saw that Karl had been raised out of purgatory because Christ’s mother had prayed for him. In spite of his sinfulness Herr Karl had always had great love for the Virgin Mary.
Karin Ulfsdotter was now a woman of about forty, but she was obviously convinced that there was no misdeed so terrible that Queen Joanna would not commit it. If she and Catherine of Siena went to Naples they risked being taken in ambush on the way, and killed. Raimondo agreed with Karin; he considered Queen Joanna an utterly depraved woman, and was stubbornly set against his “mamma” meeting her. Only Catherine scorned her friends’ lack of courage. “If Agnes or Margaret or Catherine of Alexandria had been so afraid they would never have won the crown of martyrdom. Have not all good virgins a Bridegroom to watch over and care for them? It seems to me that these doubts show lack of faith more than the virtue of forethought.” But Urban thought over what Karin had said and let the idea drop.
While she was still in Siena Catherine had written to Queen Joanna—a passionate plea for the lawful Pope, Urban, to whom all Christian princes owed their loyalty. From Rome she sent the Queen a letter which was even more outspoken. She addresses the letter to her “dear mother in Christ”. (Joanna was by then a woman of fifty-one and married for the fourth time.) Catherine now writes to this woman on her favourite theme, self-love opposed to the love for God as He has revealed Himself in Christ Crucified. “Oh, dear mother, you must love the Truth, you must submit yourself to the Holy Church—for otherwise I will never again call you mother or turn towards you with respect. From being a queen you have been made a servant and the slave of something which is nothing. . . .” Because she has left the breast of her mother, the Holy Church, people weep over her as over one who is dead; she has chosen lies instead of truth, and listened to the advice of men who are incarnate devils. How can they prove it when they say that Urban VI is not the lawful Pop
e? They cannot, they lie abominably. If it is true that Urban VI was not lawfully elected they deserve to die a thousand times, for if they elected him from fear and afterwards set him up as the lawful Pope, and caused us to support them in doing homage and promising obedience to one who had not the right to receive it, no punishment is hard enough for them. The man whom they tried to present as the Pope, the high-minded old Cardinal Tebaldeschi, protested loudly and declared that the Archbishop of Bari was the Pope. And who is it they have chosen as Pope in his stead? A criminal wretch (no Italian had forgotten the massacre in Cesena), a devil, who does the devil’s work. But if she still has any doubt of the validity of Urban’s election, Catherine begs Joanna at least to remain neutral until she has discovered the truth. “Oh, I say to you in the deepest sorrow, for I wish with my whole soul that you may be saved, that if you do not change, and turn from this error and all the others, the Highest Judge will punish you in such a way that it will fill all who think of rebelling against the Church with terror. Do not wait for Him to strike, for it is hard to withstand God’s justice. You must die, and you do not know when.”
Joanna paid no attention to Catherine’s warnings, nor to those of the Pope. In April 1380, a day or two before Catherine’s death, she was excommunicated by Urban VI. Her subjects, who had never been particularly fond of their self-willed ruler, thereupon were freed of all their duties towards her. As the kingdom of Naples was a vassal of the Holy See, Urban gave it to Charles of Durazzo, a relation of Joanna’s first husband. Charles believed, or chose to believe, the rumours which blamed Joanna for having had a share in the murder of her first husband. To avenge his relative Charles had Joanna killed in a manner which was far from dignified—she was strangled in her bed.
Catherine and her companions settled down in a house near Santa Maria sopra Minerva. As they had all vowed voluntary poverty they lived on alms. But although she seldom had less than twenty-five in the household Catherine gladly received all those who came to stay with her whether for a short or long time—the Sienese naturally wanted to avail themselves of the influence their Popolana had with the Pope to obtain indulgences or audiences, or to visit the old sanctuaries of the apostles and martyrs with one who they were sure was in close contact with the Lord of all the saints. Catherine depended on God’s providence, and they never suffered want, but always received enough to meet their modest demands.