St. Umiltà from Consolation of the Blessed, by Elizabeth Petroff, New York, Alta Gaia Society, 1979. Life of Saint Umiltà, Abbess of the Vallombrosan Order in Florence

PROLOGUE:

Dearest sisters, you constrain me to bring within the compass of a single volume, with excessive verbiage removed, the life of St. Umiltà, your mother and mine, an account which has been written in various volumes by various different authors in a variety of ways; and also to set down what I learned from her own true account, since, as you assert, you believe that from her telling I know many things which truly demonstrate her sanctity. Even though the defects of my life, the poverty of my intellect, conflicts over temporal matters, and the senseless outcries of her detractors would restrain me from complying with your wishes, nevertheless affection for your holiness has compelled me—a feeling by which, as you know, we have been initimately bound together from the first youthful period of your arrival here. Accept this eagerly, then, and imitate so holy a mother. Accept into your prayers what the earnest love of him who is your servant in all things has gathered together and now transmits clearly, under precise chapter headings. And should anything seem harsh in following her example, I beg you to consider the brevity of life, the vileness of the body, the inevitability of death, the delights of our heavenly homeland, and the bitter things experienced by Christ; then the way will be led with ease, and all things surely will distill sweetness.

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CHAPTER 1: Her early adolescence, marriage, religious life; her transferral to the Vallombrosan Order

2 Rosanese, called Umiltà after her baptism in holy religion, was born in the province of Romandiola, in the town of Faenza, of very noble stock, for her father was Elimonte and her mother Richilda. From her childhood she was intent on divine obedience, occupying her time in constant prayer and generous alms-giving. She commended herself to God unceasingly, submitting her entire self first to Christ, then to his mother who, from then on, she established as her model in all her deeds, and by so establishing her, gained her as a special patroness in all her striving. And so that entrance to the hall of such a great king and such a great queen might lie open in easy efforts, Rosanese instituted as her agent Blessed John the Evangelist, not fearing, with him to lead the way, to obtain whatever she would want from Him who gave Mary sweetly as mother and in consequence, from her who accepted John as a foster son, when she was weeping most bitterly at the foot of the cross.

Rosanese, fair with an appearance which she scorned, elegant in conversation, most gracious in her manners, as everyone reported, was dressed very richly one day, as befitting the only daughter of very wealthy parents, for this was the custom of that land. Suddenly she returned to her real self, withdrew into her chamber, and gave herself to prayer. She was silent about what she felt, but having put aside every vanity, she transformed her whole self unutterably. Her parents were very grieved when they thought about this; and because of her attitude concerning the use of ornamentation, her attraction to whatever was lowly, and her association with girls her own age, they lost all hope that they had from her advancement in the secular world, and merely tried to insure that she did not secretly enter a convent.

3 As much as she could, meanwhile, she began to give money to the poor, secretly and in public, so that her chambermaids were exhausted by reporting this to her parents. They hid their knowledge of this activity, and commanded her obedience in all things according to a vow. She expressed her desire to enter a convent to some abbesses of women's houses; each of them agreed, but none of them could see how she might escape from her parents' watch over her, if this was not according to divine providence.

When the Emperor Frederick had taken Faenza after a lengthy siege, and had entered the city, his cousin on his father's side heard of her reputation for beauty and was stricken with blind love. He sent many messengers, but none was able to see her. When he discerned that he was accomplishing nothing this way, the young man finally sought her as his

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bride from her parents. When asked her opinion about this match, the girl’s answer was that she wanted Christ as her husband, and no one else. When the youth saw clearly that he had taken on himself an impossible task, he ceased to trouble her further, and publicly reported that no girl like her existed. Although Rosanese perceived all these events quite clearly, she nevertheless remained as much on her guard as before, as long as the said youth was present in Faenza.

4 A short time later, Umiltà's father Elimonte was taken from this evil world with a good ending. Rosanese was married to Ugolotto, a nobleman of the city of Faenza. For nine years she lived with him very happily, never ceasing to have conversations with him about changing his manner of living. He considered this laughable, saying to himself that he would never do any such thing. She gave herself to prayer for days on end, over a long period of time, seeking from God what her husband denied. And while she was persisting, quite rightly, in this, her dearest husband fell headlong into a serious illness. Physicians were called in, and they were all agreed in the judgement that it would be best for him to live chastely. For if he did not abstain from sex, he would collapse with an incurable and foul weakness, and in a short time he would die a very cruel death. He began to say that from henceforth he would live chastely, and to ask his relatives, and his wife's relatives, to convince his wife to do this too, so that he would not die. When Rosanese had observed all this attentively, she gave devout praises to the Lord who had heard her prayers and she lived with Ugolotto faithfully, as with a brother, as long as he lived. Before he relinquished her as his wife, her husband begat many sons and daughters upon her.

5 This prudent lady, considering that now she might be able to fulfill her desire, unceasingly began to offer him comfort under the guise of protecting his bodily health, hoping to inspire him to enter a religious order for the sake of preserving his vitality. Displaying much sorrow and cruel weeping, he assented to this. He permitted her, after she had given away everything she possessed to the sisters, to enter the convent among the sisters of the monastery of St. Perpetua near Faenza, who were living a holy life under a rule. In humility he joined the group of extern brothers attached to the same convent. Then Rosanese changed her name, and it was announced that from then on she was to be called Umiltà. When she did this, Rosanese had just completed her twenty-fourth year. From that day on, her former husband never saw her with bodily eyes. At once she began to be transformed into another woman, to do the most vile tasks in the monastery with her hands, and to be so knowledgeable in matters of religion that no one doubted that she had come, not from the secular world, but from the desert. To all those who saw her, she was

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now an example of keeping silence, of prayer, of solitude, of ready and helpful obedience towards the sick and the well equally, and of abstinence and all other difficult works.

6 One particular day, when she was still illiterate, some sisters called on her and bade her read at the second meal, as is the custom among nuns. I think they commanded her to do this for their own relaxation. She bowed her head and took up the book so that she might obey. Having picked it up, she carried it to the appropriate place, opened it and began at this verse: "Despise not the works of God, since they are all true and just." What is more, she spoke such lofty words, keeping her eyes always raised to heaven, that she excited the entire convent, who came running to see this spectacle, marvelling in wonderment. And when the sign was given for her to conclude her reading, by saying "you, however," as was appropriate, taught by the Holy Spirit, she concluded in the best possible way. Inside that volume no one was ever able to find the passages that she had read, neither before nor after. From that time on, the convent took care to teach her letters—which she did learn—by getting a woman teacher for her.

7 One time, when she was afflicted with a tumor in her kidneys, having been assigned a nurse by the Abbess (who thought Umiltà didn't want a doctor), and fearing that the stink of her wound would be disturbing to the convent, she gave herself to prayer. At once, as soon as she arose from prayer, she was cured. When the sister who had been assigned to her as a nurse, intending to treat her in the usual way, discovered that she was cured and that there was no sign of there having been any wound, she asked Umiltà what the explanation for this was, for she was greatly amazed. Having faithfully learned the story from her, with great devotion and with all the facts in order she told it to the other sisters.

8 Sister Umiltà began to leave aside other things and to spend her time in prayer. With all her strength she desired to find some deserted place where she might devote herself wholly to prayer, yet she despaired of finding any way by human aid to escape her strict custody. When this desire had persisted in her for a long time, she one day gave herself to contemplation of the divine. She did not say what she heard, except that a voice had said that she would leave the monastery the coming Saturday and had made it clear for the entire convent that whatever she should demand earnestly she would have without fail. Considering the height of the walls and of the gate, and the extern brothers guarding the door, the convent decided that what she had heard spoken was fantasy; assuming the thing was impossible, they ignored the words. But when that particular night arrived, a voice spoke. "Sister Umiltà," it said, "Arise

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and follow me." As she was about to obey, she went first to the bed of a certain sister who had been very poor, and hastily snatched up her worn out old tunic, leaving her the better one which she had been wearing. Holding her Psalter in her hand, protecting herself with the sign of the cross, she was placed instantly on the top of the wall. Now while she was there and thinking anxiously about how to get down, the being picked her up invisibly as before, and she left the book behind her on the wall. Since the gates were locked, while she was standing there the invisible being opened them with the brother's keys. It brought her smoothly outside, and put her down unharmed beyond the entire convent. She came to a certain river situated near this place, which she walked across, passing over it as if with dry feet. Suddenly she came to herself; she saw where she was, as if awakening from sleep. After giving thanks to God, for his guardianship over her, she hurried with swift steps to the convent of sisters of the Order of Saint Clare.

9 When Sister Umiltà had come to this convent, she excited wonderment in all the sisters. Many sisters, and the Abbess among them, were dubious, on account of her beauty, about her having avoided danger. However, the Abbess showed nothing of her doubts, and with her convent received her very kindly, and quickly enrolled her among themselves. The sisters, hearing of her effort, and being instructed by great edification, were astonished at her exit from such strict custody. They sent for a certain knight named Nicolò, a close relative of hers, for the Abbess was unwilling for her to travel alone, and they placed her under his protection, meanwhile pouring forth devout tears at her departure. The knight Nicolò, after he had listened to Umiltà's case sweetly, took her to his home, and placed her in a certain pretty chamber, keeping the key in his own possession, and generously supplying it with whatever she needed. All the time she was there she slept on the bare floor, observing the strictest silence, and occupying herself in constant prayer. She ate no food beyond bread and water.

10 There was a certain religious man attached to the church of Saint Apollinaris in the city of Faenza who was supposed to have his foot amputated on the advice of certain experienced men, because he had a terrible disease. He had heard of Umiltà's reputation and had himself brought there, humbly commending herself to her. Moved by pity, she touched his foot with the sign of the cross. Cured instantly, the overjoyed monk returned home on his own feet, announcing the deed to everyone as he went. Considering this event, the above-mentioned Lord Nicolò managed to remove all obstacles [to Umiltà's practicing a solitary life] and to procure by his petitions the permission, granted I think by the curate, for a cell to be built for her next to his church. They built her cell

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next to the church of Saint Apollinaris in Faenza; it was quite small, with a little window which looked into the church so that she might see and receive the sacraments of Holy Mother Church. It had another window facing outside, where she might receive alms and freely give satisfaction to those who had come to see her, for she had requested that the cell be built in this way. The day was fixed upon for her enclosure; the entire city flocked there; they all cried out, "Let's see the saint!" The Abbot of Crispino, to whom the place was subject, proceeded to the church; he gave her the habit of holy religion when he had received her obedience. He undertook to provide her and her maid with necessities. So that in poverty she might follow the example of the poverty of Christ, she refused everything, after giving him thanks. After she was blessed with the sign of the cross she asked for two things: an oratory and a board for sleeping on. She possessed nothing else as long as she lived there, nor would she permit anything to be brought into her cell for any reason.

11 Twelve years she lived in that cell; bread and water alone, with cooked bitter herbs on solemn feast days, this was her habitual diet. She reached the point of such abstinence that three ounces of bread a day were enough to support her thin body. Nor did she ever, during the entire time that she was in the cell, arrange for two meals a day, or for any food other than that mentioned, in any circumstance. On her bare body she always wore a shirt of horse hair, or pig skin with the bristles turned toward her flesh, wearing this in every situation, event, and time, with only a worn and worthless cowl over it, without any warm leather or woven clothing placed beneath it. Sometimes in place of the hairshirt she used a very rough woolen vest, when for some reason that was appropriate. When she tired of being on her knees, she positioned herself on the aforementioned board. When she was overcome by sleep, she would place her head against the wall, and would fall asleep reciting psalms or meditating on some divine matter.

12 One day a weasel with a bell on its neck entered her cell. She received it affectionately, as if it were divinely given her as a companion. While she was occupied in prayer, it sat at her feet. It never tasted of the meat given it carefully while it was there in the cell. Nor did it ever seem to eat any other food, except what it saw the holy mother Umiltà, to whom it had been divinely given as a companion, make proper use of in the cell. A long time passed in this way, when it perceived that there were ladies who lived in cells next to the cell of its lady. It climbed up to the window, looked at its lady as if in derision, deposited there its bell as if saying farewell, and never appeared again.

Umiltà’s husband, who was unable to bear her absence, in charity having parted with all those things which he had given to the monastery with her, earnestly requested to be her companion. Having obtained this

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permission, he bound himself by the yoke of holy obedience first to the abbot of his monastery, then to her, his former wife, as the abbess; this took place in the aforementioned monastery of Saint Apollinaris. He always spoke of Umiltà as Lady, and although he never saw her, as mentioned earlier, in no circumstances whatsoever did he neglect her orders. He lived for three years after he entered the monastic life, and with a holy end finished sweetly this wretched life.

CHAPTER 2: She constructs monasteries near Faenza and Florence and rules there as abbess. Famous for miracles even after her death.

13 Bishops, abbots, and other religious clerics began to ask her to construct a monastery in the city; among them was the Reverend Lord Rector, Abbot of the Greater Vallombrosan Order. Trusting solidly in him, she left her cell and constructed a convent near Faenza, in the place which is called Malta, dedicating it in honor of the Mother of God and placing it under the Benedictine Rule. Being bound by obedience to the aforesaid father and rule, she and her place were perpetually subject to the authority of this same father and of all his successors. The fame of her sanctity began to run here and there; very many magnates put their daughters and wives under her direction, and she taught them to observe the aforesaid rule to the very letter. Nothing of her behavior was changed from when she had been living in her cell. On a certain day, when she had received a particular sister and when she had considered carefully the charge that this woman had fulfilled in a less than good fashion the office of prelate which she held in that monastery, Umiltà found her basely delinquent. What is worse, the woman had often been corrected by Umiltà privately, and had not taken any pains to pay heed to this correction. Being conscious of all this, Mother Umiltà called her before her publicly in chapter, and since she brazenly continued to resist the council of the older nuns, Umiltà committed her to imprisonment. The woman absolutely refused to eat any food. When she had remained in this state for quite a few days, the Abbess made her way to the prison, with crossed arms bowing the knee to her, sweetly imploring her to pay attention to her own salvation. Then the woman prostrated herself at Abbess Umiltà's feet and confessed her crime and willingly did penance, and thenceforth, by living in sanctity, made clear to all that she had been properly corrected.

14 One particular day Umiltà, as was her custom, was visiting one of her sisters who was seriously ill. The sister revealed to Umiltà a sin of hers which she had never confessed to anyone out of shame, mentioning this sin in secrecy between the two of them. Sweetly she encouraged the sister to confess, for she ought to realize with certainty that the coming

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Friday, at the sixth hour, she would leave this world, and that she would then have to account for God for this sin along with her other sins. The astonished woman came to her senses and publicly, in front of the whole assembled convent, spoke the truth and confessed to a priest with many tears. Then at the appointed hour of the day she entered the heavenly realms. Another time Umiltà went to meet her chaplain, who was coming one morning to celebrate Mass, but she pretended she did not know this, and asked him where he was going. As he was telling her where he was going, she said to him secretly and very devoutly, "First confess, my son, such and such sin which you have committed; then you need not fear to approach the altar in safety." He was confounded, and with many embarrassed tears first told her everything, in order, which he thought only God knew, and then diligently confessed, and never afterward committed such sins.

15 When a certain small fish had been given to her, she told the cellarer that she should make it ready to eat, and that in the morning she should serve it to everyone in the convent. The cellarer, assessing the thing carefully, considering that it would scarcely provide a poor meal for two persons, prepared it diligently in a pepper sauce, and put it on the table in front of the abbess alone. Umiltà looked at it, and in front of the whole convent, picked up the dish with anger, and threw it, with the fish, on the floor. Miraculous event! It was not less honorably placed on the table than it was thrown on the floor, for it stuck together whole as if it were nailed together and made of wood, and the entire convent saw it lying on the floor. Then the servant picked it up from the floor, and just as the abbess had earlier commanded, gave some of it to each of the sisters.

When Umiltà the holy mother abbess was in Faenza, one day a certain sister began to bleed so heavily from her nose into a basin that, having despaired of all the remedies for health proposed by the physicians, she was hastening toward her final end, as was obvious to all. When the pious nurse Umiltà heard this, as was her custom she sweetly invoked the supreme physician, made the sign of the cross over her, and at once the sister was completely cured, with all her strength restored.

When heavy snows (customary in her country) threatened to make all the houses collapse and people were unable to provide for themselves, all the extern and conventual brothers came to her and humbly besought her to provide for them and for their people in such tribulation. Having comforted them, she gave herself to prayer, and suddenly the tempestuous weather was put to flight, and a very warm sun came out, so that the snow was melted and the whole storm quieted.

16 When she was making her way to Rome on foot for some difficult

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business, and had completely given up in exhaustion on the rougher part of the journey, someone appeared to her with a very gentle horse, and put her on it, and talking pleasantly with her, brought her all the way up to the hospice. Having lifted her off the horse, he said farewell; even to that moment he concealed his identity and no one among her companions, neither among the ladies nor among the brothers, saw how he left. When her companions ate at this hospice, she found herself unable to chew such hard bread. Bidding everyone to eat, she got up, and alone in the street while they were eating she gave herself to prayer as was her custom, whenever at any time she would dismount in any place. She fell on her knees and busied herself in prayer without delay, until it was appropriate to attend to other business. At once someone appeared, to her, and gave her the whitest bread to eat; and kindly bade her refresh herself with it, and went away. When she had gladly obeyed him, the brothers and sisters who had eaten gathered around her. They were very much amazed when they heard about this business, and praising God they finished the journey begun earlier. When in the aforesaid journey she stopped at the cell of two women recluses, they began to call out to her as soon as they saw her: "This is the lady who appeared to us in sleep, and taught us how we ought to proceed on the path to God." For this reason they insisted that she stay and rest with them, and just as they had seen in their vision, they devoutly received instruction from her for the greater part of the night.

One night, when she was attending Matins in her monastery, she suddenly made a sign that wine should be brought to her, and gently asked for water. This having been brought, she sent it to a certain seriously ill sister in the infirmary, who was so troubled by thirst that she could not sleep. The sick woman, having given thanks to God and his holy Mother, consumed the drink, and then slept peacefully.

17 Although Blessed John the Evangelist had appeared to her many times, and commanded her to build his convent, one night he appeared to her, and commanded that she should build it, not in Venice as she had planned, but in Florence, promising her that he would bear the spiritual responsibility for that which she had already done in Faenza and that which she should do in the future in Florence; he also prophesied that during her journey on the roads she would pass through trials without reproach. Then strengthening herself with the sign of the cross, she secretly called several sisters to her. She revealed to them what had just happened, and taking nothing with her from the monastery, she entrusted the convent to the Prioress; barefoot, accompanied by those whom she had named to go with her, she hastened through the hazards of war unharmed, with all her group, with the Evangelist leading the way.

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When for a long time she had been disposed to have some relics of Blessed John the Evangelist, and yet thought that there was no chance that she might ever have them, she came to Florence as she was travelling in the direction of Pieve del To, where she was received by the Rector of Pieve and greeted by all the clerics with rejoicing. The Rector told her that if she wished to see the relics of the Evangelist, he would gladly show them to her. Eagerly she accepted his promise, and gazed on them with great reverence. The said Rector was so moved by this that he freely made her a present of a casket which he acquired, with the manna of John the Evangelist and his relics in it. With inestimable joy she brought these things to Florence, and after an appropriate length of time, built in the Evangelist's honor a church of marvelous beauty.

17 And so in Florence she was joyously received by prelates and lower clergy, religious and lay people. Having been conducted to her lodgings, outside the city in the plain of Saint Ambrose, she was provided for with honor. When her sanctity was observed, she was held in such veneration that there she was proclaimed inestimably as a saint. After she had been staying in Florence almost two years, the piece of land where there is now a monastery was bought from Florence. There she quickly went with those whom she had brought with her from Faenza along with other noble ladies from the city of Florence; she enclosed herself and instructed them (so it was said) to wage war for God single-mindedly under the rule which she had assumed.

18 Her usual activity at this time was gathering stones in the bed of the Mugnone River, located next to her site, for use in building the convent; one particular day she had just loaded the stones on an ass, and was bringing him back to her house, when she met two women, who were both gesturing and grievously weeping over the son of a certain Florentine. Moved by pity, Umiltà gently inquired of them the cause of such intense mourning. They then said to her that with the excuse of a long-lasting illness, and at the bidding of his parents, they themselves had been bringing the youth to them and then he had died on the journey. They did not use many words, but they prostrated themselves at her feet, and with great sobs entreated her to bring back to life the said youth. Then the mother of kindness took him in her arms, carrying him over to the altar of Blessed John the Evangelist which at that time was standing in a little house near the road, and placed him above the predella. In sight of the onlookers she devoutly gave herself to fervent prayer. After a long time she got up exhausted, and taking the boy gave him safe and sound to the women. Umiltà commanded them to tell no one in his family about this as long as she was alive, and to come with her immediately to collect stones.

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A certain nobleman, knight of Rubino, of the city of Florence, in the neighborhood of Saint Felicity, named Bernard, visited Umiltà one day. Although a layman, he commended himself to her prayers with much devotion. She kindly took him in and urged him to consider the state of his soul, for she knew that on the coming Thursday he was to die, and would have to account to God for all his actions. Although he was most sane and clearheaded, he grew afraid hearing this, and when he returned to his own home he died, on the prophesied day, just as she had predicted.

19 The holy mother, who had once been very beautiful in appearance, very wise in the way of God and of the world, day by day, more and more avid for the path of penitence, sweet-flowing of speech when recalling sinners, pouring forth the wine and oil most wisely in corrections, that she might free sinners, adorned with the possessions of all good customs, most perfected in charity, fell into a lingering illness, if I am not mistaken, at the age of eighty or more, on Saint Lucy's Day, December thirteenth. Because of the fervor for doing penitence that she always displayed, even when she could not speak, during her illness she kindled in those around her an unbelievable desire to serve the Most High. The twenty-second day of May, 1310, the sixth day of the week at about the sixth hour, with her holy companions standing around her singing psalms and at the same time weeping bitterly, she entered the heavenly realms. On Sunday, in the church she had built in honor of Saint John the Evangelist, next to his altar on the left side, she was buried with marvelous devotion, being granted the highest honor by secular and religious prelates and other clerics, before a great multitude of the people.

20 Meanwhile the stone placed over her grave began visibly to emit oil. One of the sisters, noticing this, and being fearful that it might be only an illusion, prudently would wipe off the oil from the stone quite frequently and carefully. When she saw by doing this that the occurrence was divine, as it was, she told everyone who came there what was happening. When a wiping off of the stone was done, the experience of all was very apparent; on this account particular care was given to the translation of her body by the Florentines. By the devotion of the faithful, a holy altar was built from the right side of the altar, in the same church, in which, on the sixth day of June, 1311, her body, still whole and intact, was taken from that first burial place where it had been buried in the bare ground. Those present at this ceremony included the venerable fathers and lords Antonio, Bishop of Florence, Roger the Abbot of Vallombrosa, Azzone the Abbot of Florence, Gratia Septimus Abbot, and many other prelates and lesser clergy and secular people, and various

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other clerics, and a remarkable multitude of Florentines. The people were allowed to view her body until a solemn mass had been celebrated. This being finished, her body was marvelously adorned and she was buried, as we said, in the place prepared for her with great honor, as was fitting.

21 The Reverend Lord Albertus, Abbot of Razzolo, troubled by a severe weakness in his foot, commended himself to her with the greatest devotion, humbly begging her that she might return his health to him. Scarcely had he completed his prayer when he was freed from sickness completely; since this was a witness to her translation, he announced his cure publicly.

A certain woman, who had been blind for almost fifteen years, visiting the shrine of the saint, sought eagerly for her sight. A certain sister gave her a small water pitcher, which had been placed on the saint's table before her for a long time. Devoutly holding this on her eyes, she was at once totally cured, and was able to return to her home.

Umiltà appeared to a certain gravely ill sister of the same monastery, named D---, one morning when she was between sleeping and waking. She commanded her to get up from her bed and go to church to hear the second mass, just as she herself was doing; then she withdrew, as quickly as she had come. Instantly obedient, the sister rose from her bed and hastened, healthy and joyful, to hear mass, offering many thanks to God and his holy Mother.

A certain young woman, a sister in that same place named Francisca, began to cry out as she was struggling with the extremity of death before the eyes of the entire convent: "Wait for me! Wait for me!" When those standing near her asked her what she saw, she indicated by her nod that it was the holy mother abbess. Having made this clear, she at once went forth to her who had called her.

22 Holy sisters, if I have been more negligent in obeying your requests than you would have wished, I beg you to grant forgiveness to him who has wronged you, although no one can arrive quickly enough for a person who is waiting. Although I have confidently held back from many topics, nevertheless on each individual topic I have touched lightly. I know that your prudence is not hidden, and you see that I have not the gifts to be able to pursue such a heavy task. By your prayers I pray that I will be able to see again her of whom I have written, however feebly, in the presence of Christ in our true native land. She now rejoices perfectly in Him for whom she wept copiously, as if over present griefs, during her long life in religion when she saw Him dead upon the cross, for our sins most cruelly pierced by nails and then by a lance.

23 And he who reads this: I beg that he not be loath to reread this with an eye to correction, where he recognizes that what was written is

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faulty in some respects, for in things concerning such a great lady, it is more pleasing to see nothing, except what is to be emended by surpassing charity.

CHAPTER 3: Supplement of miracles accomplished during her life and after her death.

24 One day, there was but a single loaf of bread to be found in the aforesaid monastery; the hour for eating had already arrived, when the venerable abbess spoke to the cellarer and asked: "Why are the sisters not eating?"

And the cellarer replied, "There isn't enough bread here; for except for one very small loaf, we have found no bread in the house."

The abbess, trusting in the omnipotence of her creator, who established and created all things together from nothing, who is totally in all things, as soon as she heard this, commanded the table to be laid in the usual way, and the single loaf to be brought forth at once. The abbess, taking it in her hands and raising her eyes to heaven, said: "May the Lord, who fed five thousand men with five barley loaves, cause you to multiply." And having made the sign of the cross over the loaf, she broke it, saying to the cellarer that she should place a fragment of the loaf in front of each sister who sat down to dine, and that the Lord would multiply it in their mouths. The cellarer, hearing and firmly believing this, brought a fragment of the loaf to each person. In truth the sisters, who were thirteen in number, ate until they were very full, with the greatest joy, and there were more pieces of bread remaining left over than had been placed before the sisters earlier.

25 One time a kind of swelling puffed up on the abbess' lips so that she was unable to eat, and the nuns said to her, "Lady, you ought to send for a doctor so you can be freed of this swelling."

The abbess replied that she did not want to do this, and said, "I want the medicine that comes from him who took away my cancer before." And truly, on the following day she was cured. And another time, when the Bolognese army had come to the city of Faenza, the abbess predicted to some nuns that the Bolognese would arrive the following day, enter the monastery, and carry off sheep and cows and anything else they liked. And so she instructed them to hide everything well, so that things couldn't be lost. On the day which the abbess had foretold, the Bolognese came to the monastery, carrying off everything in the monastery except for the clothes that the nuns wore all the time. Out of reverence for the venerable abbess, they left the nuns completely unharmed, and returned to their camp.

26 Another time it happened that the abbess foresaw by divine

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revelation a famine to come in the next year. She called the cellarer, asking her what kinds of produce she had, from grain to spelt. The abbess commanded the cellarer that she not make bold to feed the livestock from the said produce but to save all of it from that time on until the following year. And when the cellarer announced this to the other sisters, they all said to one another, "Could our Lady really believe that we will, from the great abundance which we have now, come down to such scarcity? Far be this from us!" But when the time drew near in which there were the greatest shortages and hunger, the monastery had so much of the corn and other grain, which the abbess had caused to be conserved, that they felt nothing of the famine, but gave generously in almsgiving during that time. Seeing this, the nuns greatly praised the Lord, whom they perceived dwelt truly with their abbess.

27 A certain lady, leaving the world behind, entered the aforesaid monastery, with all her goods. When after some time she confessed to a priest, the abbess called her aside, asking whether she had made a good confession. "Certainly, Lady," she said.

But the abbess said: "It doesn't seem so to me, for I see that your expression is disturbed."

The lady then replied, "I have a particular sin that I have never dared confess to anyone."

The abbess then said to her: "You cannot be saved unless you confess this sin of yours that you have furtively kept hidden." The lady, however, considering the enormity of her crime, said that she didn't dare confess it to anyone. So the abbess then inquired: "Will you confess it to a priest if I tell him with my own mouth?"

"How can you know that which I have never confessed to anyone?" the lady asked her, knowing that her crime was hidden from all and visible to no one.

The abbess merely replied, "I know it well; I know it well." Then the lady gave consent, saying that she would do whatever the abbess wished. Calling forth the priest, the abbess told him her sister's sin, which she had never confessed to anyone. When the priest announced this to the sister, she was greatly astonished, and confessed her sin to him herself on account of her very great fear. The priest gave her absolution, however, praising God for the sanctity of the venerable abbess.

28 During the hot period, in the month of August, the abbess suffered a continual fever and kept asking only for ice; they told her that it was not then the time of year for ice. Yet the abbess said that they should go to the well. And the following morning, when they had come to the well, they found in the bucket water frozen in the shape of a half

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moon. Taking out the ice, they brought it to the abbess, all of them being at the same time amazed.

29 When the abbess saw, through God, that anyone was sinning mortally, it was her custom that she would immediately look at the sinner, with her countenance troubled, seeming only half-alive, with no color in her face. Once, when she was weeping bitterly over Christ's Passion, (which she bore always in her heart) she began to wipe her eyes in her usual way with a scrap of cloth she carried with her because of her frequent crying. Looking at this scrap, she saw that her tears had been totally transformed into blood. On account of great humility she hid the cloth as soon as she saw this, lest anyone else see it.

30 Another time, when the abbess was staying in the cloister of the aforesaid monastery, having with her a nun who was writing down in short form what she was dictating to her—that is, the book about angels, about the soul, and of many very good sayings, which is in that monastery—when the abbess was having that book written, there were two nuns walking through the cloister, both facing the abbess, who saw on the abbess' shoulder a dove of the purest white, with golden feet and a gold beak, which it held in her ear, while she was having the aforesaid book written. At length the nuns reported to the abbess what they had seen with their own eyes. And she told them: "It is as you have said; nevertheless, never presume to tell anyone what you have seen."

One particular day when she was having the book written in this cloister, there was heavy rain falling everywhere else in the entire convent, yet not a drop fell on her back or shoulders, and this was obvious to everyone in the cloister.

31 Once a certain woman came to her, bearing with her a grandaughter of hers who was suffering from the disease of scrofula. When the woman reached the abbess, she threw herself at her feet, humbly beseeching her to cure her grandaughter of this sickness. The abbess, pious and humble, although she did not know what the girl's illness was, touched her throat by making the sign of the cross, and blessed her. Presently the woman looked again, and saw that her grandaughter was cured, giving thanks to God and to Saint John the Evangelist.

32 On the third day after Umiltà's death, a certain monk priest, who was feeling severe pain in his arm and had been unable to celebrate Mass for almost six months, came to the tomb of the abbess; both commending himself to her and giving himself to prayer, felt himself cured at once, giving thanks to God and to Blessed Umiltà. And on the same day there was present a woman with him, who had been sick for the past five years; almost every day she had been unable to speak, to eat, or

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even to open her mouth, while she had it, nor did she benefit from any medicine. She came to the most pure body of the Blessed Umiltà, and touching her body, began to pray. Returning to her home, she felt herself improved, and after a few days she found herself totally cured, giving thanks to God and to Blessed Umiltà.

On the same day there came to the tomb where Umiltà's most holy body was already buried a certain woman, who was very devoted to Blessed Umiltà and who had suffered a long time from a secret disease. After the woman had grieved and wept much over the grave, praying with her tears, she felt a great consolation, and she began to voice this prayer, as it was revealed to her: "O most holy Umiltà, you were filled with patience and charity, by the love of Christ and the grace of his mother; I beg of you that you will always pray for me to the heavenly King, that by your holy merits he may spare me in my crimes." A good forty times she repeated this prayer, before she rose from the tomb, because of the joy which she felt. Rising from her prayer, she soon sensed that she was cured, and returned thanks to God and to Blessed Umiltà.

33 There was a certain woman who was suffering from a very serious illness. One night when she was sleeping in extreme pain she heard a voice saying to her: "Commend yourself to Saint Umiltà, for you may know it is by her merits that you can obtain health." And when she had awakened, she devoutly and reverently commended herself to the saint, and soon she felt herself cured. Another woman was suffering the extremities of death, and was saying to her family: "Why have you sent for the doctors?" Don't you see that my death day is imminent?" Hearing this, her father at once came to Blessed Umiltà, and with great affection commended his daughter to her. When he was returning home, he found that a sister of Umiltà's monastery was visiting the sick woman, bringing with her the holy abbess' veil. Binding her head with the veil, the sick woman soon got well, and after a few days was totally cured.

34 There was a woman who, when she came to the monastery, had sought devoutly for something that had belonged to the abbess; she took a small piece of the cloth that the abbess had worn on her back, and returned to Volterra. For in that place there was living a certain person whose hand had been accidentally pierced by glass, and who, because of his severe pain, was unable to find any quiet and peace at all. When the woman touched the hand of the suffering sick man with the said cloth, he was cured in that very spot, giving thanks to God and Blessed Umiltà.

Another woman had a son, whose bladder was ruptured and inflamed; when his parents saw that their only son was so dangerously ill, they were deeply grieved. The man, angry in spirit, said anxiously to his own wife: "You have taken care of our son very badly!" Soon the mother commended him to Blessed Umiltà, and upon rising the next morning, she saw her son very fully cured.

34 Another woman, suffering such pain in her arm that she was unable to use it except with unbearable agony, sought and found the grave of the venerable abbess. Humbly and devoutly she commended herself to her; and as soon as she had commended herself, she felt herself cured, giving thanks to God and to Blessed Umiltà. Then there was a certain nun of the same monastery, who had been filled with pain in her entire body for five years, and had been unable to walk except with extreme torment; she commended herself to the abbess, seeing that no medicine was helping her. When she rose from her prayers, she sensed herself so healed that no pain remained in her, and she praised God and Blessed Umiltà.