Catherine of Siena

by Sigrid Undset

  About Catherine’s reception by the Chapter General we know very little, but it seems as though no accusations were made against her. She made several friends in Florence—the rich and powerful Niccolo Soderini, Francesco Pippino the tailor, and his wife Monna Agnese with whom she afterwards exchanged letters regularly. But the most important thing that happened to Catherine during her first stay in Florence was her meeting with Raimondo of Capua, for the most recent investigation has shown that it was here they first met, although Raimondo had naturally already heard a good deal about Catherine. To begin with he had listened to the stories about her with a good deal of scepticism, and when they first became acquainted he had obviously no intention of accepting everything she told him at its face value. He never doubted that she was in good faith, but could a young and unschooled girl always differentiate between true revelations, her own imagination, and the work of the devil?

  Catherine attached herself to Raimondo at once. She was sure that this was the spiritual director Our Lady had promised her. He was about to move to Siena where he was to be lecturer in the Dominican monastery. When the faithful Tomaso della Fonte ceased to be Catherine’s spiritual director he handed his successor the four volumes of the journal regarding Catherine which he had kept ever since 1358. Without a doubt Raimondo, who was an older man and a man with greater insight, was better fitted to cope with a phenomenon like Catherine. Among other things he showed greater understanding of her need to receive Communion so often—Fra Tommaso had not dared to allow her to do so. It was also of importance for Catherine’s missions between men and women who ruled over the fates of various countries and peoples that she could seek advice from a man with Fra Raimondo’s background, even though it frequently happened that in such cases it was Catherine who, prompted by her inspirations, decided what she would do, and afterwards let Raimondo hear what his part in the matter was to be.

  Raimondo delle Vigne came from one of the old aristocratic families of the kingdom of Naples. He was born in Capua about 1330, so according to the ideas of that time he was a middle-aged man when he first met Catherine. Even as a child he had been truthful, pure and devout, and had always had an especially tender love for the Mother of Christ. He was very young when he entered the Dominican order, where he became an example to his brethren, so that his superiors in the order allowed him to undertake several important tasks while he was still a very young man. In the meantime Raimondo had gained a thorough knowledge of theology and was known for his spotless life and deep piety. From 1363 he served as priest to the Dominican nuns in Montepulciano. While there he wrote a biography of Blessed Agnes, one of the sisters of the convent who had died in 1307, famous for the miracles she had worked both during her lifetime and after death: her unchanged body lay in the convent church. From Montepulciano he was called to Rome as priest of the convent at Santa Maria sopra Minerva, but after a short while he asked to be released from this position—he wanted to offer his life to the care of souls. In 1374 he was sent to Siena as lecturer, and as the Sisters of Penitence of the third order had always been under the leadership of the friars, Raimondo became Catherine’s confessor. His lovable character, which is spoiled only by a certain anxiety and indecisiveness, shines from every line of the book he wrote about Catherine, the woman he loved as his mother and daughter in Christ, and honoured as the chosen bride of his beloved Master. Conscientious in the extreme, a learned and experienced spiritual guide, he submitted all the material he acquired to the most rigid tests, and made a thorough examination of its sources: he was determined to treat his subject in a manner worthy of Catherine herself. The result was that he came to give posterity one of the most fascinating stories ever written of a woman’s life, the life of a rich and radiant talent developing in an exceptional way under the influence of divine grace.

  The bonds between Catherine and Raimondo must have been strengthened considerably when they came back to Siena and were called to untiring self-sacrifice. They came to a town which had been attacked by the plague. Catherine’s brother Bartolommeo had returned from Florence, either because he had given up the idea of becoming a Florentine citizen—it had certainly not been good business—or perhaps only because he wanted to see his aging mother and some of his children whom he had left with her. But Bartolommeo returned to his native town only to die of the plague. Poor Lapa also lost by plague a daughter called Lisa. Lisa must have been older than Catherine, but she was unmarried, and this is the only occasion when she is mentioned in the family history, so it is possible that she was defective either in body or mind. Eight of Lapa’s grandchildren also died of the Black Death. As Catherine dressed the small bodies she sighed: “These children at any rate I shall never lose.” She had good reason to fear that all was not well with her brothers. Stefano died in Rome about this time, and Benincasa, who was in Florence, seems to have grown bitter through adversity; from some words in one of Catherine’s letters to him it seems that his family life was far from happy.

  The plague devastated Siena—about a third of the inhabitants died of it. As so often during periods of common disaster the priests and monks showed their noblest side—even many of those who had been worldly and indifferent as long as they had been able to live a peaceful and comfortable life began to think of the responsibility laid on them by their calling, and risked their lives in surroundings filled with horror and despair to attend the sick, give the dying the last sacraments, and bury the dead.

  Tirelessly Catherine went from hospital to hospital, in and out of homes where the sick lay, to nurse them, pray for them, console them, wash and clothe the corpses for burial. Day and night she moved among the victims of the plague, armed with a small lamp and a smelling-bottle which was supposed to be a protection against infection from the pestilential air.

  The Dominicans worked bravely until they were on the point of dropping from exhaustion. Raimondo spent the whole day going from deathbed to deathbed, but once in a while he had to relax for a few brief minutes. Then he went to the Misericordia hospital, where he had found a good friend in the rector, Messer Matteo Cenni Fazi. Here he could rest for a while, though at the same time he was always ready if Messer Matteo fetched him to any of the poor wretches in the hospital who needed the services of a priest. But one morning when Fra Raimondo had gone out after the convent Mass and called at the hospital to ask how things were, he met some of the brothers carrying Messer Matteo, who looked as though he were already dying. Raimondo went with them, saw his friend put to bed and heard his confession. But it cut him to the heart to see in what terrible pain the sick man was, and the doctors said that his case was hopeless. Raimondo went about his work, but he was full of grief, and prayed silently that God might spare the life of a man who was of such great use to his fellows. As soon as he possibly could Raimondo went back to Casa della Misericordia—and met Catherine on her way out. Her expression was as usual happy and peaceful, and in his grief Raimondo turned to her with bitter reproach. “Mother, can you let this man die whom we are so fond of and who does so much good?” Catherine shook her head: “What are you saying? Do you think I am like God and can save a mortal man from death?” But Raimondo was no less bitter. “You can say that to those who may believe it, but not to me who know your secrets. I know well that you obtain from God all that you pray for with your whole heart.” Catherine smiled: “Rejoice then, for he will not die this time.”

  Raimondo went in, and there sat Messer Matteo in bed eating a substantial dinner—vegetables and raw onions—not exactly the correct diet for a man who was on the point of dying of the plague. He then heard that Catherine had come, and while she was still in the corridor outside the sick man’s room she cried loudly and gaily, “Get up, Messer Matteo, get up! This is not the time to lie and laze in bed!” Suddenly Matteo felt that he was free from pain and fever. He leaped up in bed, and immediately Catherine turned and fled, abashed because everyone was amazed and thanked her. When he had eaten his dinner Messer Matteo got up, well and stron
g, and immediately continued his work of mercy in the hospital.

  This was not the first time that Messer Matteo had seen Catherine, as by a miracle, restore life and health to people who were apparently dying. But Raimondo experienced her strange power for the first time that summer when the plague was raging. There was an old hermit who went under the name of Fra Santo—Brother Saint. When he came down with plague Catherine had him moved from his solitary dwelling outside the town to Casa della Misericordia. Although he was very ill, Catherine said to him, “Don’t be afraid. You will not die yet.” But he seemed to get worse and worse, and she told all his friends to pray for him. She herself continued to whisper to him, “You will not die yet”, and when the death throes began she murmured in his ear, “You will not die yet.” The death throes lasted an unusually long time, but finally Catherine said to the unconscious Fra Santo: “I command you in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, do not die.” Immediately it seemed as though the soul, which was fighting to escape from the body, came back; the saint sat up in his bed and asked for food. Later Fra Santo told his friends what Catherine had whispered to him, and that he was still alive only because she had commanded him in Jesus’ name to live.

  Carts rattled through the streets of Siena day and night full of blue-black corpses. People said that this time the plague was even more terrible than the time before. It struck people like lightning—a man might get up in the morning, apparently quite well, and be dead before evening. It was more infectious this time, too; the very air seemed to be full of it. As the panic began to spread many of the priests and monks also lost their courage and escaped to the country. Raimondo and his faithful friends had to work even harder than before. But they were confident that “Christ is more powerful than Galen and the divine grace is stronger than nature”, and continued to serve the sick fearlessly, for the soul of one’s neighbour is more precious than a man’s own life.

  But one night when he wanted to get up and say his breviary after a few hours’ sleep Raimondo felt a stinging pain in the groin. When he touched the place he felt a boil—the sure symptom of the plague. Horror-stricken he sank back on his bed and lay longing for the dawn so that he could go to his “mamma” for help. He became feverish and had a terrible headache, but he tried to say the Divine Office in spite of it. At last it was morning, and he called one of the friars, and with his help managed to drag himself to Catherine’s house. She was not at home, and Raimondo, who could not go another step, was led to a bed, where he lay asking the people of the house to go and find Catherine. As soon as she came in she fell on her knees, covered his forehead with her hand and began to pray silently. Raimondo lay and looked at the ecstatic woman and thought, “She will succeed in healing either my body or my soul.” He felt terribly ill, and thought that the moment was coming when terrible vomiting warned the victim of approaching death. But instead it seemed after a while as though something was dragged with force out of his body; the pains became less and shortly afterwards disappeared altogether. Even before Catherine had regained consciousness Raimondo felt quite well and strong. When she awoke from her ecstasy she told him to lie and rest while she went out and prepared some food for him. She returned and waited on him during the meal, and before leaving said seriously, “Go now and work for the salvation of souls, and thank the Almighty who has saved you from this danger.” And Raimondo went back to his work as usual, while he praised God who “had given such power to a virgin, a daughter of man”.

  He was to be an eye-witness of many miraculous happenings which Catherine achieved through her prayers, both while the plague raged in Siena and in the years which followed. After a while the terrible disease began to disappear, but it was followed by famine. In Alessia Saracini’s house Catherine baked bread which Alessia divided among the poor. But some of the flour was so mouldy and smelled so unpleasant that Alessia wanted to throw it away: when she gave to the poor she was used to giving the best the house could produce. Catherine protested: it was a sin, maintained the true daughter of Lapa, to throw away God’s gifts. She began to bake with the mouldy flour, and made five times as many loaves as could reasonably be expected from the amount of flour—and it was delicious, fragrant bread. But later she admitted that while she was working in the kitchen Our Lady had appeared and helped her with the work—kneaded the dough and formed it into loaves which Catherine put in the oven. Pieces of this miraculous bread were later kept as relics by several of Catherine’s spiritual children.

  But at the end of the summer Catherine fell ill, presumably largely through overwork. Again she approached the fulfilment of her dearest wish, “to die and become one with her beloved Jesus Christ”. On the day of the Blessed Virgin’s Assumption Our Lady appeared again to Catherine and said that her Son wished her to live a little longer—He still had work which she was to do for Him on earth. The Virgin let her see in a vision the souls which she would save, and Catherine said afterwards that she saw them so clearly that she was sure she would be able to recognise them when she came to meet them again in this life.

  A letter came to Catherine from Pisa, written by Pietro Gambacorti, who was more or less the ruler of the republic. The nuns in Pisa wanted her to visit them and sent their invitation through Gambacorti. In her reply Catherine sent the ruler of Pisa her usual warning against worldliness—the love of unreal things. She continually found new variations and picturesque expressions for this subject: a man who is bound to the rottenness of sin is as though in chains, he has handcuffs on the hands of his soul and cannot do the good works of Christ, his soul’s feet are chained together so that they cannot bear him towards the good deeds which are the fruit of grace. Regarding her visit to Pisa she regrets that for the moment it is impossible. She is not strong enough, and moreover it would lead to “murmuring”. But by the mercy of God she hopes she will be allowed to make this journey another time, in peace and without giving cause for any discontent, for she is always willing to do what the highest Truth commands.

  Those who would “murmur” if she went to Pisa were the Riformati government in her native town. Relations between Siena and Pisa were, to put it mildly, strained; the Knights of St. John from Pisa had occupied Talamone, the port of Siena on the Tyrrhenian Sea. And while Pisa was still on the Pope’s side, the government of Siena had not yet decided which side they would join. Catherine’s presence in Pisa would also help to antagonise Bernabo Visconti, who was intriguing to get the republic over to his side.

  But during the autumn Catherine left home to make a pilgrimage to Montepulciano. Presumably Fra Raimondo, who accompanied her, persuaded her to visit the grave of St. Agnes. Pilgrimages were the only form of holiday discovered by the people of the Middle Ages. The real reason for the pilgrimage was of course religious—away from the well-known everyday surroundings and the monotony of everyday life one could think of the welfare of one’s soul with a fresh energy; the air of distant holy places blew away the dust of boredom from the soul, and strengthened one to pray with a new enthusiasm. But the journey, the changing landscape, the sight of new and unknown faces, brought relaxation for both body and soul. Catherine’s intention was only to visit St. Agnes, a holy virgin of her own order, for whom she had great love, having heard so much about her from Raimondo. She looked forward to meeting Agnes in heaven. But it must have been very good for Catherine to get away from Siena for a while after all the strain of overwork and illness.

  Catherine and the Mantellate who were with her arrived at the convent before Raimondo. She went to the church immediately to do homage to St. Agnes. All the sisters in the convent accompanied her, and they all saw how St. Agnes on her bier politely lifted her foot when Catherine knelt to kiss it. When Raimondo arrived the next day the whole convent was in an uproar over this miracle. As the provincial had given Raimondo complete authority over the convent he immediately called all the nuns to the Chapter to investigate the matter. All the women had witnessed the event, but they could not agree about what it meant. Some of them dou
bted whether it were a miracle—it might have been a deception of the Evil One. Others suggested that it might have a completely natural reason—the corpse had sunk deeper and the foot had tipped up. But Raimondo decided that in that case both feet would have been raised: God let St. Agnes lift up one foot only so that none could doubt that it was a miracle. When one of the nuns declared excitedly that St. Agnes had meant something else by this gesture Raimondo interrupted her abruptly: “My dear Sister, we do not ask you what St. Agnes meant to do; we know that you are neither her confidant nor her secretary. We only ask you, did you or did you not see the miraculous lifting of the foot?” “Yes”, replied the nun—somewhat sulkily one may imagine. This event, which seems rather amusing to us, is described with heartfelt joy by Raimondo: that the two holy virgins of whom he was so fond should have expressed mutual reverence in this way must have caused his warm heart to glow. . . .

  Catherine visited Montepulciano for the second time some years later, with two of her nieces, Lisa’s little girls, who were about to enter the convent as novices. On this occasion too signs occurred which witnesses took to be a proof that the two virgins, Agnes and Catherine, would be sisters in eternity.

  It was a matter of the greatest significance for Catherine that Raimondo allowed her to receive Holy Communion much more often than her former spiritual directors had dared. It made no impression whatsoever on Raimondo that some of the sisters whispered among themselves, that some of the monks regarded her with scepticism, and that others complained of the disturbance caused by Catherine’s ecstasies and tears. On the contrary, he assures us that he often felt the consecrated Host quivering in his hand when he was about to give it to Catherine—as though Our Lord in the Sacrament was impatient to give Himself to her who loved Him with all the strength of her fiery nature. Once, moreover, he was convinced that a piece of the consecrated Host had left the altar in a quite inexplicable way, and been brought to Catherine without the help of human hands.