Life of St. Rita of Cascia, O.S.A. from the Italian. Richard Connolly
saw them as they really are, and could therefore say with the wise man that they are but vanity and affliction of spirit. She therefore resolved to have no part in this deceitful world, and since life in the desert was denied her, she resolved to bury herself in a cloister. But she had not yet reached the age in which to put her design into execution. Meanwhile the holy child lived in her first place of retirement for a full twelvemonth, until the obligation of assisting her parents and the duties of charity and obedience forced her from the place of her spiritual happiness. This happened probably when she was about eleven years old. Her parents were now beginning to feel the burden of their years, and Rita had perforce to enter upon an active life, and exercise works of mercy and justice, without, however, entirely abandoning her practices of meditation. Her history does not tell us how she performed the domestic duties that fell to her lot, perhaps because, from what we know of her life hitherto, that may more easily be imagined than described. Whilst fulfilling the parts of both sisters of Lazarus, she did not cease to envy John in the desert. Although the Holy Spirit had, through her prayers, made known to her many things, and although she continued still to be enlightened from above, yet she knew not what was written in the eternal decrees concerning herself, that Providence only put off to a better time the fulfilment of her thirst for solitude and for a cloistered life. Rita was intended to be an example to every age and condition; she should therefore live other lives before reaching the cloister she panted for.
CHAPTER VIII
RITA'S MARRIAGE
In the year 1393 Italy, not to say the whole world, was suffering under the evils that proceed from political disturbance, and the state of morals throughout the peninsula was deplorable. Still, the honour of the Church was upheld by the many saints whose lives then adorned it, not the least of whom was Rita. Urban VI. was dead, and Boniface IX. ruled in his place. But the Holy See had to withstand many a rude shock, for the anti-Pope Robert, then near his end, continued to dispute the possession of the Apostolic keys, and at his death left to his more impious successor, Pietro di Luna, his sad legacy of obstinate schism. Heresy, fanaticism—religious and political—and the utmost corruption of morals were not wanting to fill the cup of Italy's woes.
The weak hands of the cruel and dissolute Wenceslaus still held the sceptre of the West, and John Paleologus, who had succeeded his father Emmanuel, could only weep over the impending ruin of his falling empire, that was shaken in every part by the infidel arms of the Sultan Bajazet. In Italy the rivalry of the different States, and, above all, the vaulting ambition of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, Lord of Milan, served to keep alive disunion, antagonism, and wretchedness. At this very time the republic of Cascia, which, since its revolt against the Holy See, had hardly enjoyed a moment of peace or prosperity, was in arms against the Guelphs of Cerreto, and had at the same time to prosecute a stubborn war against Aquila. In these contests the military portion of Cascia, by their deeds of violence, their robberies, and their atrocities, trampled on every law of humanity and modesty. It is true that hostilities came to an end in 1395, when terms of peace were agreed on; but warlike Cascia could not remain long at rest, but took up arms against Monte Reale in a new war, which lasted till 1397.
Whilst Cascia and the other States we have mentioned were seeking by iniquitous means to widen the borders of the kingdom of confusion and sin, Rita, in Rocca Porena, was meditating only how she could best please God, that, as the Apostle says, she might be holy in body and in spirit. The lurid picture of universal disorder rightly excited in her feelings of horror, and convinced her all the more of the vanity and cruelty of the world.
She saw the deceitful pleasures, the snares and thorns, the inevitable evils that show themselves at every step, and the dangers that at every moment threaten the soul with ruin. On the other hand, she perceived the great advantages that result from separating one's self from the world; she recalled all the spiritual joy and interior consolation she experienced during the time she lived in retirement in her home, and she therefore felt herself more firmly grounded in her determination to flee for ever from the tumult of worldlings. The solitude which formed the object of her desires, and in which she resolved to offer to God the holocaust of her virginity, was the convent of Cascia, where she afterwards lived and died, called at that time St. Mary Magdalen's, and occupied then, as well as now, by nuns of the Order of St. Augustine. This pious project had been for some time maturing in her mind, and although she was hardly twelve years of age she determined to carry it into effect without any of those wearisome delays which the grace of the Holy Spirit knows not of, which belong to certain weak and hesitating souls that cannot break the world's ties, or those of vain fear, when God calls them to a state of perfection. Although Rita then heard the call of her Divine Lover, she did not know the time He had fixed for the fulfilling of her wishes, but, overcome by a holy impatience, she resolved to make known to her parents her desire for a religious life. Who can tell what struggles the voice of nature must have caused in her soul at this crisis, as she thought that she was for ever about to separate herself from the side of her dearly loved and aged parents? Even the saints feel the strength of nature, but, like giants, they pass on to triumphs in the kingdom of grace. Thus Rita acted. She shut her ears to the insinuating voice of flesh and blood, informed her parents of her religious vocation, and humbly and fervently begged their leave to obey the voice of God. When they heard their daughter express such a wish, Antonio and Amata, pious though they were, did not hide their sorrow and the trouble they felt. They besought with tears that their only child, the one object of their tenderest love, their only prop and consolation, should not abandon them in their old age. Their tearful pleading, acting on the filial love and obedience which filled Rita's heart, prevailed on her to put off for a better time the fulfilment of her noble purpose. Being so far successful, her parents turned their attention to providing a husband for her, in order both to make sure of retaining her society and her assistance that had become necessary to them, and to save their family from extinction; and they fixed their eyes on a young man called, according to some, Ferdinand, and to others Paul. But old eyes do not always see clearly. The young man whom they selected was impulsive and irascible, with a character formed amid the savage surroundings of that time and place—in a word, he was well fitted to try the patience and virtue of Rita. He was proposed as a husband to the saintly girl, and all the weight of parental authority, and every motive that human nature could suggest, were adduced to win her consent. We do not know with what prayers and entreaties the distressed girl opposed the suggestion, but we do know that she showed the repugnance her soul felt. It was not, however, the disposition of her intended husband that made her hate the idea of marriage, for if the knowledge of it were hidden from her parents, it could scarcely be known to a young girl so fond of retirement. All Rita's aversion and complaining sprang from the fear of seeing closed to her the road that led to the conventual life to which she aspired, and the dread of having to dwell in the midst of an evil and destroying world, in which she would be plunged into the dangerous cares of married life. Seeing at last that her tears could not bend her parents to her wishes, and feeling somewhat shaken by considerations of filial piety and obedience, she had recourse in her hard trial to the Father of light. During her prayer she became conscious of an inspiration that told her to bend her neck to the yoke of matrimony, and thus understood that what she took to be a suggestion of paternal love, purely human and the voice of flesh and blood, was in reality a disposition of heaven. Resignation to the Divine will partly restored her peace of mind, and the consent to her marriage which she announced to her parents filled them with satisfaction. Rita gave her consent through an impulse of obedience, and since perfect obedience to the Divine will requires a holy blindness, she took no care to inquire about the fortune, appearance, or other qualities of her future husband. Rita was therefore in the first flower of her youth, her beauty, and virtue when, under the nuptial veil of her modesty, she stood before the altar to become a party to that indissoluble contract which Jesus Christ raised to the dignity of a Sacrament, and which gives children to the people of God. The relatives and friends on both sides were resolved to celebrate the nuptials with feastings, but