Life of St. Rita of Cascia, O.S.A. from the Italian. Richard Connolly
VI
RITA'S CHILDHOOD
St. Augustine in his Confessions takes up two chapters in describing his infancy, and he discovers in that period of his life only misery and vestiges of sin, but he recalls these evils that spring from our sinful origin only to extol the triumphs which Divine grace obtained in his mature years. The time of infancy is, however, one in which, since there can be no acts of reflection, nor exercise of will, there can be no demerit or actual sin, nor merit or virtue. It will not, therefore, be strange if our history passes over the infancy of Rita and proceeds to describe her childhood. From the extraordinary piety that distinguished her parents we can easily surmise what care they took in training and educating their child to instil into her mind the truths of religion. They had abundant proofs that Rita was especially dear to God, that she was born for heaven, and that Divine grace had marked her for its own. But they knew also that God, who disposes all things wisely, wished them to co-operate in moulding the chosen child to virtue and in establishing her in holiness. They were well aware that even the chiefest vessels of election had for a time kicked against the goads of grace. Nor were they ignorant what a bulwark of defence is raised by education and by the example of parents—a fact which many unhappy parents either know not or are careless of, and hence by their neglect they become the cause of the eternal ruin of their children. It will not, therefore, be useless to remark the watchfulness, the care and anxiety, with which Rita's parents observed all the movements, words, and actions of a child so dear to them, lest she should take a step to the right or to the left of the way that leads to heaven, and which, with the dawning of reason, she began to discern for herself. But these happy parents had no cause for anxiety during the process of instructing and moulding the character of their child, for she had, through God's grace, acquired a disposition marked by uncommon submission and precocious wisdom. Let it suffice to say that even then she could not bear those pastimes and sports which are proper to that tender age, and which are universally regarded as innocent. She had an example in Tobias, who, although he was the youngest in his tribe, showed himself to be the wisest, and never did anything that was childish.
Another failing, which is dear not only to children, but to all, and especially to the female sex, the love of fine clothes, was an abomination to Rita. We must not believe that a virtuous mother like Amata, especially considering her lowly condition, could allow her daughter to appear in anything savouring of pride or ostentation. On the other hand, Rita, although scrupulously obedient in other things to the slightest wish of her parents, became uneasy whenever they wished her to put on some pretty ornament; she used even to run away and hide herself at such times, till she saw that her disinclination provoked a smile. Thus, satisfied with her humble dress, she took more pains to adorn her soul than to improve her appearance by the addition of the least ornament. To simplicity in dress she joined a sedateness of manner so beyond her years that it attracted universal respect, admiration, and love, and set a salutary example not only to those of her own age, but to older people also. She restrained to a wonderful degree that common tendency of women to curiosity and gossip, and having her thoughts occupied with higher subjects she avoided all human conversation as far as good manners and obedience permitted. Obedience was the virtue according to which she regulated all her actions. She regarded a beck of her parents as a command of God which she could not violate; and her obedience was all the more willing as it accorded with the impulse of grace which impelled her to the practice of all other virtues. For obedience, as Blessed Simon of Cascia observes, is the gate of the virtues. Rita's love of retirement and of prayer had already risen to the heroic point. Whoever wished to see her was certain of finding her either at home or in the neighbouring parish church, which was her favourite place of prayer, where she spent entire hours in meditation and devotion, to the great edification of all. Although penance is a virtue hardly suitable to so tender an age or to such perfect innocence, yet Rita began from her earliest years to chastise her body by different mortifications, and especially by fasting; and to render her abstinence more meritorious and acceptable to God she distributed to the poor children of the neighbourhood that food which she denied herself, thus bringing forth fruits of mercy and charity from the root of penance. This was the only way in which her loving good-will and tender compassion could show themselves in action; poverty made anything further impossible. But the Lord, who searches the heart, and delights in men of goodwill, sought nothing more from Rita then. But she was unconsciously increasing in charity and in merit as she grew in years, so that she could apply to herself the saying of Job—that mercy came out with him from his mother's womb, and from his infancy grew up with him.[1] Not only did her spirit grow, as it were, and become strong by the exercise of these beautiful virtues, but her progress in all virtue was extraordinary.
[1] Job xxi. 18.
CHAPTER VII
RITA'S LOVE OF RETIREMENT
St. John the Baptist experienced a similar strengthening of the spirit, as we read in that place in which it is also written that he went into the desert, where he hid himself, as Blessed Simon says, in order to give himself up entirely to prayer, contemplation, and penance. The comparison between these saints is often a fitting one, for Rita always follows closely in the footsteps of her great model. It is true that, according to the example of the Psalmist, she walked in the innocence of her heart, in the bosom of her virtuous family, for she found nothing abroad that could distract her spirit from the affairs of her home, whilst her gravity, modesty, and habitual seclusion opened to her a wide field for the exercise of her love of prayer. Yet she was so enamoured of heavenly things that she wearied of the things of earth, and desired, in a certain sense, to be out of the world; and since this could not be, she regarded with a holy envy the lot of so many anchorites and heroines of solitude, who, in deserts and in the depths of woods, lived lives more like those of angels than of men. She had before her eyes the examples of Blessed Simon, of Blessed Ugolino, of Blessed John, and of the other saintly hermits of St. Augustine, who had only recently passed to their reward in heaven, or were still living in the neighbourhood of Rocca Porena. The example of these models of holiness increased in her heart her dearest desire to serve her beloved Jesus amid the silence of the woods and on the mounts of myrrh. But the love of her aged parents, and obedience, more than any thought of her youth and sex, prevented her from fulfilling her generous design. The sacred love with which she was animated made her industrious, and suggested the thought of converting her home into the solitude she longed for. With the consent of her parents she chose a little room separated from the others, and turned it into an oratory. Its walls she decorated with pictures of our Lord's Passion, and there she shut herself in, as into the midst of all delights. Her Divine Lover awaited her there to speak to her heart, and there, far from the eyes of men, in perpetual silence and abstinence, she enjoyed those ineffable consolations of grace which the profane know not of. The constant object of her thoughts, of her ecstasies of soul, of the most ardent love of her heart, was the Passion of her crucified Spouse; and in the midst of the tears which accompanied her meditation, whilst her heart was filled with Divine compassion, she experienced that true peace and happiness of soul which only grace can produce—how we know not—from sorrow. She felt herself transformed into the Crucified One, for whom alone she now lived—rather, she no longer lived, but Jesus Christ lived in her. In that school of love, through that Divine teaching, she came to know more certainly the fallacy of all worldly things; she saw how the world deceives us, and she saw also the charms and pomps and pleasures of this life, but