In the Manuale Cartularii of the Pammatone Hospital, under date of 10th July 1512 (p. 62), (I quote from an authentic copy which I found among various documents copied out by the protonotary P. Angelo Giovo, and prefixed to his MS. Latin life of the Saint preserved in the Biblioteca della Missione Urbana, Genoa, No. 30, 8, 140,) there is an entry of money (7 lire 10 soldi, equivalent to about £7 10s.) paid by the administrators of the Hospital to Don Cattaneo Marabotto, her Confessor and Executor: “Ratio sepulturae q(uondam) D(ominae) Catarinettae Adurnae pro diversis expensis factis p(er) D(ominum) Cattaneum Marabottum, videlicet pro pictura et apportari facere lapides ipsius sepulturae.” The payment must have been either for expressly painting a picture, or for buying one already painted. We would, however, expect, in the former case, for the entry, in analogy with its final clause, to run: “pro pingi facere picturam.” In the latter case, we are almost forced to think of the picture as painted by some friend or disciple of the Saint, not for herself or for her relations or friends (for in that case it would hardly have been sold, but would have been left or given to the Hospital), but for his own consolation, or in hopes of its being eventually bought for the Hospital (and this may well have been done during her lifetime). In any case, this entry attests that a portrait of the Saint was in existence at the Hospital not two years after her death, and which was approved of by one of her closest friends. I take it that that portrait was placed on her sepulchral monument erected to her in January 1512 in the Hospital Church. If still extant, at least in a copy, that original or copy is, presumably, at the Hospital still. Now there are but three pictures at the Hospital which claim to be portraits of her and are not, avowedly, copies. (1) The large oil painting of her standing figure, in the room adjoining the closet now shown as the place where she died, is clearly a late, quite lifeless composition. (2) The portrait-head in the Superioress’s room has been carefully examined for me by a trained portrait painter, who reports that the picture consists of a skilful ancient foundation now largely hidden under much clumsy repainting. (3) The picture reproduced at the head of this first volume, now in the sacristy of the Santissima Annunziata in Portorio (the Hospital Church), is clearly the work of one hand alone. It is without the somewhat disagreeable look present in the previous portrait, a look doubtless introduced there by the unskilful restoration. If then the sacristy picture is a copy of the Superioress’s picture, it will have been copied before the latter picture was thus repainted. This sacristy picture now hangs in an old-fashioned white-and-gold wooden frame with “Santa Catarina da Genova” in raised letters carved out upon it, a carving which is evidently contemporary with the frame’s make. The frame thus cannot be older than 1737, the year of Catherine’s canonization. But the portrait is without trace of a nimbus and carefully reproduces the very peculiar features of a particular face, head, and neck. The original painting, thus still more or less before us in these two pictures, was evidently by no mean artist, and strikes a good connoisseur as of the school of Leonardo da Vinci (died 1519). There were several good painters of this school resident in Genoa about this time: Carlo da Milano, Luca da Novara, Vinzenzo da Brescia, and Giovanni Mazone di Alessandria. In the very year of her death, and still more two years later, she was publicly and spontaneously venerated as Blessed, and this Cultus continued unbroken up to the Bull of Urban VIII, of 1625. Hence the further back we place one or both of these portraits, the more naturally can we explain the absence of the nimbus. Everything conspires, then, to prove that one of these portraits goes back, in some way, to the picture painted for or bought by Marabotto, and which adorned her monument from 1512 to 1593. I have striven hard but in vain to find some scrap of Catherine’s handwriting. The late Mr. Hartwell Grisell of Oxford, and the Cavaliere Azzolini dei Manfredi of Rome, both of them life-long collectors of Saints’ autographs, have kindly assured me that they have never come across a word even purporting to be in her handwriting. The fourteen wills and codicils made in her favour or by herself are all, according to the universal custom of the time and country, written throughout in a rapid, cursive hand by the lawyer himself alone, with certain slight signs (crosses or lines) for further identification of his authorship, but with no signature of any kind. There is no shadow of a true tradition as to any of her sayings or thinkings having ever been written down by herself. And the business books of the Hospital, kept, at least in part, by Catherine from 1490 to 1496, when she was its matron, have long ago been destroyed by fire. I have, in my text, assumed that the Vita gives us an anecdote relative to her visiting the pestiferous sick of Acquasola. But to do this, I have had (a) to take “pestiferous fever” as equivalent to “Pestilence,” and to assume that it was not an isolated precursory case of the coming general visitation; (b) to omit, in the Vita’s text, “nell’ ospedale,” as an indication where the sick woman was; and “allo stesso servizio (dell’ ospedale),” as descriptive of where Catherine went back to: the anecdote may well originally have been without indication of the place in which the infection came to reduce her to death’s door. As to the historicity of the event described in the text, we must distinguish between the general fact of Catherine’s moral and psychic ascendency over Mariola, a fact as entirely beyond dispute as it is valuable and characteristic; and the occurrence of the scene as given above. As to the latter, the question of its value is of course distinct from that of its occurrence. Its supposed evidential worth is nil, since Mariola had been intimate with and devoted to Catherine for probably a good ten years at least. But the scene may nevertheless have actually occurred. It is true that the partly parallel case of the “Spiritato” shows how easily such a dramatization of doctrine or transference of experience can occur. And Denys the Areopagite and Jacopone da Todi are full of this comparison of the soul arrived at a state of union to an Angel, Cherub or Seraph; and these writers have greatly influenced not only Catherine’s authentic teaching, but also the successive amplifications and modifications of her life and sayings. And again we shall prove that certain legendary matters were inserted in the Vita at a late date—between 1545 and 1551. But these passages all claim to be based upon evidence supplied by Argentina del Sale; and they were evidently not accepted by Marabotto (1528); the literary form of these legends differs much from that of our passage; and if the former are still absent from MSS. “A” and “B,” the latter is already present in both. And we have such entirely first-hand proof for the curiously naÏf, formal, exteriorizing character of Marabotto’s mind, as to leave it always possible that he did bring about a little scene of the sort here described. If so, Marabotto’s rÔle in it will have been prompted, in part, by a wish still further to increase Catherine’s hold upon Mariola’s mind. The entire Boerio-episode (pp. 146c-147c), is wanting in all the MSS. It is, however, most plainly authentic. I believe both the episode and a further passage concerning Boerio to have been furnished by Boerio’s son, a Secular Priest, who died a septuagenarian in 1561; his monument still exists in the Church of the Santa Annunciata, at Sturla, near Genoa. See the Biografia Medica Ligure, by Dottore G. B. Pescetto, Genova, 1846, Vol. I, p. 104.—There are some suspicious symptoms connected with that first consultation of Physicians: Boerio’s interviews read as though they had not been quite recently preceded by such an activity—and it is possible that we have here an account produced by a retrogressive doubling of the undoubtedly authentic consultation of the 10th of September, to be described presently. Still, there is nothing intrinsically improbable in the account itself. I have, then, allowed both consultations to stand. Now the Vita, p. 120b, tells us how Marabotto on one occasion left her “for three days,” at a time when she was already suffering much from “accidenti.” It is evident, that this absence fits in admirably with the gap already mentioned. Hence these dateless accounts can hardly be by Marabotto; and indeed their whole tone and point of view are unlike his. They might be by Carenzio: we shall see how strikingly objective and precise are the oldest constituents of the report as to the last three days of her life, during which, or at least at the end of which, Marabotto was as certainly absent as was Vernazza. There is, however, I think, some difference of tone between this latter report, and those dateless passages; whereas those passages are strikingly similar, in form and tone, to the oldest constituents of the Trattato, which are undoubtedly the literary work of Vernazza. The probabilities then are, that these dateless accounts are by Vernazza; and that he left Genoa on September 1 or 2. END OF VOL. I Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay. |