From the comparative quiet of her home Catherine looks off to far horizons, surveying the religious and political world. She can encourage Fra Raimondo, yet the sword has pierced her heart. This letter is full of sickening recognition of evils that hold grave prevision of worse disaster. Even now we see clearly formed in Catherine"s mind that strange sense of responsibility for the sins of her time, so illogical to the natural, so inevitable to the spiritual vision. "I believe that I am the wretched woman who is the cause of so great evils!" Thus she cries, not in rhetorical figure of speech, but in deep conviction. It is a conviction destined to grow more intense till it leads direct to her spiritual martyrdom.
Out of her pain she turns to the simple women, her daughters and companions in faith, calling on them to join her in the life of intercession and expiation. Then her thought fastens on one little lamb of the flock--one who had strayed and been rescued, and was in danger of straying again; and in care for this one soul needing shelter and strength she finds comfort. Catherine"s sense of proportion is that of the spiritual man so finely presented by Browning in the person of Lazarus.
Let Andrea be saved, and the corruption of the Church will seem less painful! She can say as her last word, "Sweet daughters, now is the time for toils, which must be our consolations in Christ crucified."
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest daughters in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood, with desire to see you established in true patience and deep humility, so that you may follow the sweet and Spotless Lamb, for you could not follow Him in other wise. Now is the time, my daughters, to show if we have virtue, and if you are daughters or not. It behoves you to bear with patience the persecutions and detractions, slanders and criticisms of your fellow- creatures, with true humility, and not with annoyance or impatience; nor must you lift up your head in pride against any person whatever. Know well that this is the teaching which has been given us, that it behoves us to receive on the Cross the food of the honour of G.o.d and the salvation of souls, with holy and true patience. Ah me, sweetest daughters, I summon you on behalf of the Sweet Primal Truth to awaken from the sleep of negligence and selfish love of yourselves, and to offer humble and continual prayers, with many vigils, and with knowledge of yourselves, because the world is perishing through the crowding mult.i.tude of iniquities, and the irreverence shown to the sweet Bride of Christ. Well, then, let us give honour to G.o.d, and our toils to our neighbour. Ah, me, do not be willing, you or the other servants of G.o.d, that our life should end otherwise than in mourning and in sighs, for by no other means can be appeased the wrath of G.o.d, which is evidently falling upon us.
Ah, me, misfortunate! My daughters, I believe that I am the wretched woman who is the cause of so many evils, on account of the great ingrat.i.tude and other faults which I have committed toward my Creator. Ah, me! ah, me! Who is G.o.d, who is wronged by His creatures? He is Highest and eternal Goodness, who in His love created man in His image and likeness, and re- created him by grace, after his sin, in the Blood of the immaculate and enamoured Lamb, His Only-Begotten Son. And who is mercenary and ignorant man, who wrongs his Creator? We are those who are not ourselves by ourselves, save in so far as we are made by G.o.d, but by ourselves we are full of every wretchedness. It seems as if people sought nothing except in what way they could wrong G.o.d and their fellow-creatures, in contempt of the Creator. We see with our wretched eyes that Blood which has given us life persecuted in the holy Church of G.o.d. Then let our hearts break in torment and grieving desire; let life stay in our body no more, but let us rather die than behold G.o.d so reviled. I die in life, and demand death from my Creator and cannot have it. Better were it for me to die than to live, instead of beholding such disaster as has befallen and is to befall the Christian people.
Let us draw the weapons of holy prayer, for other help I see not. That time of persecution has come upon the servants of G.o.d when they must hide in the caves of knowledge of themselves and of G.o.d, craving His mercy through the merits of the Blood of His Son. I will say no more, for if I did according to my choice, my daughters, I should never rest until G.o.d removed me from this life.
To thee now I say, Andrea, that he who begins only never receives the crown of glory, but he who perseveres till death. O daughter mine, thou hast begun to put thy hand to the plough of virtue, leaving the parbreak of mortal sin; it behoves thee, then, to persevere, to receive the reward of thy labour, which thy soul endures, choosing to bridle its youth, that it may not run to be a member of the devil. Ah me, my daughter! And hast thou not reflection that thou wast once a member of the devil, sleeping in the filth of impurity, and that G.o.d by His mercy drew thee from that great misery in which thou wast, thy soul and thy body? It does not befit thee, then, to be ungrateful nor forgetful, for evil would befall thee, and the devil would come back with seven companions stronger than at first. Then thou shalt show the grace thou hast received by being grateful and mindful, when thou shalt be strong in battles with the devil, the world, and thy flesh, which vexes thee; thou must be persevering in virtue.
Cling, my daughter, if thou wilt escape such vexations, to the Tree of the most holy Cross, in bodily abstinence, in vigil and in prayer, bathing thee by holy desire in the blood of Christ crucified. So thou shalt attain the life of grace, and do the will of G.o.d, and fulfil my desire, which longs to have thee a true servant of Christ crucified. I beg thee therefore not to be a child any longer, and to choose for Bridegroom Christ crucified, who has bought thee with His Blood. If thou yet wishest the life of the world, it befits thee to wait long enough so that the way can be found of giving it to thee in a way that shall be for the honour of G.o.d and for thy good. Be subject and obedient till death, and do not contradict the will of Catarina and Giovanna, who I know will never counsel thee or tell thee anything that is not for the honour of G.o.d and the salvation of thy soul and body. If thou dost not behave so, thou wilt displease me very much, and do thyself little good. I hope in the goodness of G.o.d that thou wilt so act that He will be honoured, and thou shalt have thy reward and give me great consolation.
I tell thee, Catarina and Giovanna, to work till death for the honour of G.o.d and her salvation. Sweet daughters, now is the time for toils, which must be our consolations in Christ crucified. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of G.o.d. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO SISTER DANIELLA OF ORVIETO CLOTHED WITH THE HABIT OF SAINT DOMINIC WHO NOT BEING ABLE TO CARRY OUT HER GREAT PENANCES HAD FALLEN INTO DEEP AFFLICTION
Catherine"s beloved sister Daniella is in trouble. As happened to many others leading the dedicated life in the middle ages, she has carried her scorn of the body past all bounds of reason, has fallen ill and been obliged to care for her poor physical nature. Catherine, who is perpetually trying to raise Fra Raimondo and others in her spiritual family to more heroic heights, recognizes the different needs of this over-eager soul. She writes her friend, therefore, a long and tender letter, one of the most elaborate among her many a.n.a.lyses of the means that lead to perfection, urging upon her discretion and a sense of proportion in spiritual things. It is noteworthy that Catherine"s exhortations to impa.s.sioned sacrifice are almost always delivered in connection with the claims of active service, to the Church or fellow-men.
When writing to "contemplatives" absorbed in the ecstasies and trials of the interior life, her habitual warnings are against excess, her constant plea, as here, for a perception of relative values. She ranks, herself, alike as a great "contemplative" and as a great woman of action: both phases of experience relate to something deeper. Her soul was athirst for the Infinite, and well she knew that neither in deeds nor in ascetic ecstasy, but only in "holy desire," in the life of ceaseless aspiration "which prays for ever in the presence of G.o.d," can our mortality attain to untrammelled union with Infinite Being.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest daughter and sister 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 in thee the holy virtue of discretion, which it is necessary for us to have if we wish to be saved. Why is it so necessary? Because it proceeds from the knowledge of ourselves and of G.o.d; in this house its roots are planted. It is really an offspring of charity, which, properly speaking, is discretion--an illumined knowledge which the soul has, as I said, of G.o.d and itself. The chief thing it does is this: having seen, in a reasonable light, what it ought to render and to whom, it renders this with perfect discretion at once. So it renders glory to G.o.d and praise to His Name; the soul achieves all its works by this light and to this end. It renders to G.o.d His due of honour--not like an indiscreet robber, who wants to give honour to himself, and, seeking his own honour and pleasure, does not mind insulting G.o.d and harming his neighbour. When the roots of inclination in the soul are rotted by indiscretion, all its works, relating to others or to itself, are rotten.
All relating to others, I say: for it imposes burdens indiscreetly, and lays down the law to other people, seculars or spiritual, or of whatever rank they may be. If such a person admonishes or advises, he does it indiscreetly, and wants to load everyone else with the burden which he carries himself. The discreet soul, that sees its own need and that of others reasonably, does just the opposite. When it has rendered to G.o.d His due of honour, it gives its own due to itself--that is, hatred of sin and of its own fleshliness. What is the reason? The love of virtue, which it loves in itself. It renders its due to the neighbour with the same light as to itself, and therefore I said, in relation to itself and to others.
So it gives goodwill to its neighbour, as it is bound to do, loving virtue in him and hating sin. It loves him as a being created by the Highest Eternal Father. And it gives him loving charity more or less perfectly, according as it has this in itself. Yes, this is the princ.i.p.al result which the virtue of discretion achieves in the soul: it has seen clearly what due it ought to render, and to whom.
These are three chief branches of that glorious discretion which springs from the tree of charity. From this tree spring infinite fruits, all mellow and very sweet, which nourish the soul in the life of grace, when it plucks them with the hand of free will, and eats them with holy eager desire. Whatever condition a person may be in, he tastes these fruits, if he has the light of discretion, in diverse ways, according to his state.
He who is placed in the world, and has this light, gathers the fruit of obedience to the commands of G.o.d, and distaste for the world, of which he divests himself in mind, although he may be clothed with it in fact. If he has children, he plucks the fruit of the fear of G.o.d, and nourishes them with this holy fear. If he is a n.o.bleman, he plucks the fruit of justice, discreetly wishing to render to everyone his due--so he punishes the unjust man rigorously, and rewards the just, tasting the fruit of reason, and for no flatteries or servile fear deserts this way. If he is a subject, he gathers the fruit of obedience and reverence toward his lord, avoiding any cause or means by which he might offend him. Had he not seen these things by the light, he would not have avoided them. If men are monks or prelates, they get from the tree the sweet and pleasing fruit of observing their Rule, enduring one another"s faults, embracing shames and annoyances, placing on their shoulders the yoke of obedience. The prelate takes desire for the honour of G.o.d and the salvation of souls, seeking to win them by doctrine and exemplary life. In what different ways and by what different people these fruits are gathered! It would take too long to tell them the tongue could not express it.
But let us see, dearest daughter (now we will speak in particular, and so we shall be speaking in general too), what rule that virtue of discretion imposes on the soul. That rule seems to me to apply both to the soul and body of people who wish to live spiritually, in deed and thought. To be sure, it regulates every person in his rank and place: but let us now talk to ourselves. The first rule it gives to the soul is that we have mentioned--to render honour to G.o.d, goodwill to one"s neighbour, and to oneself, hatred of sin and of one"s own fleshliness. It regulates this charity toward the neighbour; for it is not willing to sacrifice the soul to him, since, in order to do him good or pleasure, it is not willing to offend G.o.d; but it flees from guilt discreetly, yet holds its body ready for every pain and torment, even to death, to rescue a soul, and as many souls as it can, from the hands of the devil. Also, it is ready to give up all its temporal possessions to help and rescue the body of its neighbour.
Charity does this, when enlightened with discretion; for discretion should regulate one"s charity to one"s neighbour. The indiscreet man does just the contrary, who does not mind offending G.o.d, or sacrificing his soul, to serve or please his neighbour--sometimes by keeping him company in wicked places, sometimes by bearing false witness, or in many other ways, as happens every day. This is the rule of indiscretion, which proceeds from pride and perverse self-love and the blindness of not having known oneself or G.o.d.
And when measure and rule have been found in regard to charity to the neighbour, discretion regulates also the matter which keeps the soul in that charity, and makes it grow--that is, in faithful, humble, and continual prayer; robing the soul in the cloak of desire for virtue, that it may not be injured by lukewarmness, negligence, or self-love, spiritual or temporal: therefore it inspires the soul with this desire for virtue, that its desire may not be placed on anything by which it might be deceived.
Also, it rules and orders the creature physically, in this way: the soul which is prepared to wish for G.o.d makes its beginning as we have said; but because it has the vessel of its body, enlightened discretion must impose a rule on this, as it has done upon the soul, since the body ought to be a means for the increase of virtue. The rule withdraws it from the indulgences and luxuries of the world, and the conversation of worldlings; gives it conversation with the servants of G.o.d; takes it from dissolute places, and keeps it in places that stimulate devotion. It imposes restraint on all the members of the body, that they be modest and temperate: let the eye not look where it should not, but hold before itself earth, and heaven; let the tongue flee idle and vain speech, and be disciplined to proclaim the word of G.o.d for the salvation of the neighbour, and to confess its sins: let the ear flee agreeable, flattering, dissolute words, and any words of detraction that might be said to it; and let it hearken for the word of G.o.d, and the need of the neighbour, willingly listening to his necessity. So let the hand be swift in touching and working, and the feet in going: to all, discretion gives a rule. And that the perverse law of the flesh that fights against the spirit may not throw these tools into disorder, it imposes a rule upon the body, mortifying it with vigil, fast, and the other exercises which are all meant to bridle our body.
But note, that all this is done, not indiscreetly, but with enlightened discretion. How is this shown? In this: that the soul does not place its chief desire in any act of penance. That it may not fall into such a fault as to take penance for its chief desire, enlightened discretion takes pains to robe the soul in the desire for virtue. Penance to be sure must be used as a tool, in due times and places, as need may be. If the flesh, being too strong, kicks against the spirit, penance takes the rod of discipline, and fast, and the cilice of many buds, and mighty vigils; and places burdens enough on the flesh, that it may be more subdued. But if the body is weak, fallen into illness, the rule of discretion does not approve of such a method. Nay, not only should fasting be abandoned, but flesh be eaten; if once a day is not enough, then four times. If one cannot stand up, let him stay on his bed; if he cannot kneel, let him sit or lie down, as he needs. This discretion demands. Therefore it insists that penance be treated as a means and not as a chief desire.
Dost thou know why it must not be chief? That the soul may not serve G.o.d with a thing that can be taken from it and that is finite: but with holy desire, which is infinite, through its union with the infinite desire of G.o.d; and with the virtues which neither devil nor fellow-creature nor weakness can take from us, unless we choose. Herein must we make our foundation, and not in penance. Nay, in weakness the virtue of patience may be tested; in vexing conflicts with devils, fort.i.tude and long perseverance; and in adversities suffered from our fellow-beings, humility, patience, and charity. So as to all other virtues--G.o.d lets them be tested by many contraries, but never taken from us, unless we choose.
Herein must we make our foundation, and not in penance. The soul cannot have two foundations: either the one or the other must be overthrown. Let the thing which is not the chief, be used as a means. If I find my chief principle in bodily penance, I build the city of my soul upon the sand, so that each little breeze throws it to the earth, and no building can be erected on it. But if I build upon the virtues, founded upon the Living Stone, Christ sweet Jesus, there is no building so great that it will not stand firmly, nor wind so contrary that it can ever blow it down.
From these and many other difficulties that arise, it has not been meant that penance should be used otherwise than as a means. I have already seen many penitents who have been neither patient nor obedient, because they have studied to kill their bodies, but not their wills. The rule of indiscretion has wrought this. Dost thou know the result? All their consolations and desires centre in carrying out their penance to suit themselves, and not to suit anyone else. Therein they nourish their will.
While they can fulfil their penance, they have consolation and gladness, and seem to themselves full of G.o.d, as if they had accomplished everything; and they do not perceive that they fall into a mere personal estimate, and into a judicial att.i.tude. For if all people do not walk in the same way, they seem to them in a state of d.a.m.nation, an imperfect state. They indiscreetly want to measure all bodies by one same measure, by that with which they measure themselves. And if one wants to withdraw them from this, either to break their will or from some necessity of theirs, they hold their will harder than a diamond; living in such wise, that at the time of test by a temptation or injury, they find themselves, from indulgence in this wrong will, weaker than straw.
Indiscretion taught them that penance bridled wrath, impatience, and the other sinful impulses that come into the heart; it is not so. This glorious light teaches thee that thou shalt kill sin in thy soul, and draw out its roots, with hatred and displeasure against thyself, loading thy fault with rebuke, with the consideration of who G.o.d is whom thou wrongest, and who thou art who wrongest Him, with the memory of death and the longing for virtue. Penance cuts off, yet thou wilt always find the root in thee, ready to sprout again; but virtue pulls up. Earth in which sins have been planted is always ready to receive them again if self-will puts them there with free choice; not otherwise, when once the root is pulled up.
It may happen that a sick body is obliged perforce to give up its habits of life; then it falls at once into weariness and confusion of mind, deprived of all gladness: it thinks itself condemned and confounded, and finds no sweetness in prayer, such as it seemed to have in the time of its penance. And whither is this sweetness gone? Lost, with the personal will on which it was built! This cannot be gratified, and so the soul suffers.
And why art thou fallen into such confusion and almost despair? And where is the hope which thou hadst in the Kingdom of G.o.d? All lost, by means of that very penance through which the soul hoped to have eternal life!
Capable of this no more, it thinks itself deprived of the other.
These are the fruits of indiscretion. Had the soul the light of discretion, it would see that nothing but being without virtues deprived it of G.o.d; and it has eternal life through virtue, by the Blood of Christ.
Then let us rise above all imperfection, and set our heart, as I said, on true virtues, which are of such joy and gladsomeness as tongue could not tell. There is none who can give pain to the soul founded on virtue, or take from it the hope of heaven; for it has put its self-will to death in spiritual things as in temporal, and its affections are not set on penance, or private consolations or revelations, but on endurance through Christ crucified and the love of virtue. So it is patient, faithful, hopes in G.o.d and not in itself or its works: is humble and obedient, believing others rather than itself, because it does not presume. It stretches wide the arms of mercy, and thereby drives forth confusion of mind. In shadows and conflicts it uplifts the light of faith, labouring manfully, with true and profound humility; and in gladness it enters into itself, that the heart may not fall into vain glee. It is strong and persevering, because it has put to death its own will, which made it weak and inconstant. All times are the right time for it; all places the right place. If it is in a season of penance, this is a time of gladness and consolation to it, using penance as a means; and if, by necessity or obedience, penance has to be abandoned, it rejoices; because its chief foundation, in the love of virtue, cannot be and is not taken from it; and because it sees the contradiction of its own will, which it has been enlightened to perceive must always be resisted with great diligence and zeal.
It finds prayer in every place, for it bears ever with it the place wherein G.o.d lives by grace, and where we ought to pray--that is, the house of our soul wherein holy desire prays constantly. This desire is uplifted by the light of the mind to be reflected in itself and in the immeasurable flame of divine love, which it finds in the Blood shed for us, which by largess of love it finds in the vase of the soul. This it cares and should care to know, that it may drink deep of the Blood, and therein consume its self-will--and not simply to accomplish the count of many paternosters. So we shall make our prayer continuous and faithful; because in the fire of His love we know that He is powerful to give us what we ask. He is Highest Wisdom, who knows how to give and discern what we need; He is a most piteous and gracious Father, who wishes to give us more than we desire, and more than we know how to ask for our need. The soul is humble, for it has recognized its own defects and that in itself it is not. This is the kind of prayer through which we attain virtue, and preserve in our souls the longing for it.
What is the beginning of so great good? Discretion, the daughter of charity, as I said. And it presents straightway to its neighbour the good which it has itself. So it seeks to present to its fellow-creature the foundation it has found, and the love and the teaching it has received, and shows these by example of life and doctrine, advising when it sees need or when advice were asked of it. It comforts the soul of its neighbour, and does not confound him by leading him into despair when he has fallen into some fault; but tenderly it makes itself ill with that soul, giving him what healing it can, and enlarging in him hope in the Blood of Christ crucified.
The virtue of discretion gives this and infinitely many other fruits to the neighbour. Then, since it is so useful and necessary, dearest and most beloved daughter and sister mine in Christ sweet Jesus, I summon thee and me to do what in past time I confess not to have done with that perfection which I should. It has not happened to thee as to me, to have been and to be very faulty, or over-lax and easy-going in my life, instead of strict, through my fault; but thou, as one who has wished to subdue her youthful body that it be not rebel to the soul, hast chosen a life so extremely strict that apparently it is out of all bounds of discretion; in so much that it seems to me that indiscretion is trying to make thee feel some of its results, and is quickening thy self-will in this. And now that thou art leaving what thou art accustomed to do, the devil apparently is trying to make it seem to thee that thou art d.a.m.ned. I am very much distressed at this, and I believe that it is a great offence against G.o.d. Therefore I will and I beg thee that our beginning and foundation be in the love of virtue, as I said. Kill thy self-will, and do what thou art made to do; pay attention rather to how things look to others than to thyself. Thou dost feel thy body weak and ill; take every day the food that is needed to restore nature. And if thy illness and weakness are relieved, undertake a regular life in moderation, and not intemperately. Do not consent to let the little good of penance hinder the greater; nor array thyself therein as thy chief affection--for thou wouldst find thyself deceived: but wish that we may haste in sincerity upon the beaten road of virtue, and that we may guide others on this same road, breaking and shattering our own wills.
If we have the virtue of discretion in us, we shall do it; otherwise, not.
Therefore I said that I desired to see in thee the holy virtue of discretion. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of G.o.d.
Forgive me should I have talked too presumptuously; the love of thy salvation, through the honour of G.o.d, is my reason. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO BROTHER RAIMONDO OF CAPUA OF THE ORDER OF THE PREACHERS
AND TO MASTER JOHN III.
OF THE ORDER OF THE HERMIT BROTHERS OF ST. AUGUSTINE
AND TO ALL THEIR COMPANIONS WHEN THEY WERE AT AVIGNON
Catherine"s interest in public affairs is rising and widening. This letter marks an inner crisis. Her thoughts and deeds have, as we have seen, been already busied for some time with the dissension between the Pope and his rebellious Tuscan people: now the hour has come when she is to feel herself solemnly dedicated, by a divine command, to the great task of reconciliation. We overhear her, as it were, thinking out in her Master"s presence and with His aid the deepest questions which the situation suggests: and as we listen to that colloquy, so natural, so sweetly familiar, so deeply reverent, we feel that no problems, however sorrowful and perplexing, could be hopeless there. From communion with her Lord, she went forth strong and rea.s.sured into the stormy action of her time. Christ Himself, so she tells us, placed the Cross upon her shoulder and the olive in her hand, changed her mourning into a high and rapturous hope, and bade her go, strong in the faith, to bear His message of joy "to one and the other people." Thus she should be shown in art--Cross-bearer like her Lord, and holding to the world the sign of reconciliation. Thus did she start upon the Via Dolorosa of the peace-maker; from now on we shall follow her in her letters, as she treads that way of sorrows which was also the way of life.
The experience here described fell on the first of April, 1376. Early in May, the Florentines, knowing of her holy fame, sent for her to come to their city and give them counsel. For to defy the Vicar of Christ was a fearsome thing, and many hearts were uneasy in the rebellious town.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest my sons in Christ Jesus. I your poor mother have longed pa.s.sionately to see your hearts and affections nailed to the Cross, held together by the bond which grafted G.o.d into man and man into G.o.d. So my soul longs to see your affections grafted into the Incarnate Word Christ Jesus, in such wise that nor demons nor creatures can divide you. For if you are held and enkindled by sweet Jesus, I do not fear that all the devils of h.e.l.l with all their wiles can separate you from so sweet love and union. So I wish, because there is mighty need, that you should never cease from throwing fuel on the fire of holy desire--the fuel of the knowledge of yourselves. For that is the fuel which feeds the fire of divine charity: charity which is won by knowledge of the inestimable love of G.o.d, and then unites the soul with its neighbour. And the more material one gives to the flame--that is, the more fuel of self-knowledge--the more the warmth of the love of Christ and one"s neighbour increases. Abide, then, hidden in the knowledge of yourselves, and do not live superficially, lest Devil Malatasca catch you with many illusions and reflections against one another: this he would do to take from you your union in divine charity. So I will and command you that the one be subject to the other, and each bear the faults of the other; learning from the Sweet Primal Truth, who chose to be the least of men, and humbly bore all our faults and iniquities. So I will that you do, dearest sons; love, love, love one another. And joy and exult, for the summer-tide draws near.
For the first of April, especially in the night, G.o.d opened His secrets, showing His marvellous things in such a wise that my soul did not seem to be in the body, and received such joy and plenitude as the tongue does not suffice to tell. He explained and made clear part by part the mystery of the persecution which Holy Church is now enduring, and of her renewal and exaltation, which shall be in time to come: saying that the present crisis is permitted to restore her to her true condition. The Sweet Primal Truth quoted two words which are in the Holy Gospel--"It must needs be that offences come into the world": and then added: "But woe to him by whom the offence cometh." As if He said: "I permit this time of persecution, to uproot the thorns, with which My bride is wholly choked; but I do not permit the evil thoughts of men. Dost thou know what I do? I am doing as I did when I was in the world, when I made the scourge of cords, and drove out those who sold and bought in the Temple, not choosing that the House of G.o.d should be made a den of thieves. So I tell thee that I am doing now. For I have made a scourge out of human beings, and with that scourge I drive out the impure traffickers, greedy, avaricious, and swollen with pride, who buy and sell the gifts of the Holy Spirit." Yes, He was driving them forth with the scourge of the persecutions of their fellow-beings-- that is, by force of tribulation and persecution He put an end to their disorderly and immodest living.
And, the fire growing in me, I gazed and saw the Christian people and the infidel enter into the side of Christ crucified; and I pa.s.sed through the midst of them, by my loving and longing desire, and entered with them into Christ Sweet Jesus, accompanied by my father St. Dominic, and John the Single, with all my sons together. Then He placed the Cross on my shoulder and the olive in my hand, almost as if I had asked for them, and said that thus I should bear them, to the one and to the other people. And He said to me: "Tell them, I bring you tidings of great joy." Then my soul became more full; it was lost to itself among the true believers who feed upon the Divine Substance, by the uniting force and longing of love. And so great was the delight of my soul, that it no longer realized its past affliction from seeing G.o.d wronged; nay! I said: "O blessed and fortunate wrong!" Then sweet Jesus smiled, and said: "Is sin fortunate, which is nothing at all? Dost thou know what St. Gregory meant when he said, "Blessed and fortunate fault"? What element is it that thou holdest as fortunate and blessed, and that Gregory calls so?" I replied as He made me reply, and said: "I see well, sweet my Lord, and well I know, that sin is not worthy of good fortune, and is not fortunate nor blessed in itself; but the fruit may be, which comes from sin. It seems to me that Gregory meant this: that through the sin of Adam, G.o.d gave us the Word, His only- begotten Son, and the Word gave His Blood, so that, giving His life, He restored life with a great fire of love. So, then, sin is fortunate, not through the sin itself, but from the fruit and the gift we receive by that sin." Now, so it is. Thus from the wrong done by the wicked Christians who persecute the Bride of Christ, spring her exaltation, her light, and the fragrance of her virtues. This was so sweet that there seemed no comparison between the wrong, and the unsearchable goodness and benignity of G.o.d, which He showed toward His Bride. Then I rejoiced and exulted, and was so arrayed in a.s.surance of the time to come that I seemed to possess and taste it. And I said then with Simeon: "Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verb.u.m tuum, in pace." So many mysteries were wrought in me as tongue cannot suffice to tell nor heart to think nor eye to see.
Now, what tongue could suffice to tell the wonderful things of G.o.d? Not mine, poor wretch that I am. Therefore I choose to keep silence, and to give me wholly to seeking the honour of G.o.d and the salvation of souls and the renewal and exaltation of Holy Church, and through grace and power of the Holy Spirit to persevere even unto death. With this desire I called our Christ on earth, and I will call him, with great love and compa.s.sion, and you, father, and all my dear sons; I made and was granted your pet.i.tion. Rejoice, then, rejoice and exult. O sweet G.o.d our Love, fulfil quickly the desires of thy servants! I will say no more--and I have said nothing. I die, delayed in my desires. Have compa.s.sion on me. Pray the divine Goodness and Christ on earth that there be no more loitering.
Remain in the holy and sweet grace of G.o.d. Drown you in the Blood of Christ crucified; and on no account faint, but rather take comfort.
Rejoice, rejoice, in your sweet labours. Love, love, love one another.
Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.