Autobiography

28. To Be Attached to My Autobiography

In the presence of God, who sees my heart and knows everything about me, I declare that at the Bianconi School, run by the Sisters of Charity of Blessed Bartolomea Capitanio, I carried out the following studies:

The first and second years—that is, from March 4, 1909, the day I entered the School, to July 10, 1910—the curriculum of general culture for boarding students.

The third year, from October 10 to the end of March 1911, an attempt at Complementary Studies before going on to teacher training, as my mother wanted. An unsuccessful attempt as a result of my complete lack of ability in drawing and other subjects. Then, in three months, the three technical courses, leading to a resounding failure in Mathematics, Geometry, Bookkeeping, Design, and Calligraphy. I repeated examinations in October and came away with a technical degree.

I went back to the School on November 10, 1911 to attend the Advanced Course in Culture, which consisted of studying Italian, French, Latin, Greek, English, and Spanish Literature; English, French, and Spanish History; and, in addition, Art History. As for studies related to Religion, along with the Catechism of

Pius X, usually taught by a Sister and occasionally by Fr. Francesco Longoni, the first part of Church History and also History of Religions, which was, however, cut short after a few classes for some reason or other.

I thus studied from November 10, 1911 to February 23, 1913, the day I left the School to go back to my family and settle in Florence. With great difficulty I had wrested permission to remain at school until that day, for my mother had been wanting me to leave since July 1912.

My mother had yielded because of the additional pressure by my Italian professor, Fr. Cattaneo, who, having realized my facility in composition, wanted me to complete classical studies in order to send me on to the Faculty of Letters. He was ready to prepare me for the lycée degree in three years. Mother was against it, allowing me only to continue literary studies on my own, preparing for the “short dissertation” which could then be obtained by attending the Faculty as an auditor. A dissertation which was not valid for teaching, but which testified to the student’s classical training.

I therefore studied doggedly for fifteen months, attending as many more Italian and Latin classes as I could, also following programs the professor had indicated to me, and, above all, writing and writing. Compositions for myself, compositions for my classmates, compositions to be imitated by lower-level students, entertaining texts, the expression of best wishes, letters for all the prelates, and so on.

After regretfully leaving the School, in 1913, 1914, and 1915 at irregular intervals I attended the Reading of Dante series at the Palagio della Lana and even more infrequently went to lectures at the Cultural Association.

There was no university. Mother regarded it as useless.

With the outbreak of war in 1915, I stopped attending everything and in 1917 joined the Good Samaritan Volunteer Nurses, abandoning all study, including the piano.

This is what concerns studies.

As regards attendance at religious ceremonies, I must state—and here, too, God sees that I am not lying—that except for Sunday Mass, other visits to churches were forbidden by Mother. The first Sunday Mass, at five in the summer, at six in the winter, or at seven at the latest. Never a sung Mass, never Vespers! Since I left school I have heard solemn Masses only during the short visit I made in 1929 to my classmate Ferrari from Cremona.

Sermons? Never. Lenten preaching? Never. Exercises? From 1912, the last spiritual exercises I made at school, to 1929 here in Viareggio—because I had enrolled on an exceptional basis—I never made them.

After managing to enter Young Women’s Catholic Action, I never took part in a diocesan congress or any other. I was always at home. Home, home, home. For me there was nothing but this, and if I stayed a quarter of an hour longer at the Circle, there were very harsh reproaches. I had to prepare my classes with the little books of Catholic Action and the Primer on Christianity and Christian Morality by Olgiati. I have had no other human aids. But everything became easy for me because Jesus helped me, above all, to love Him. And to love Him is to understand Him and understand souls. I therefore got ahead with my activities and the girls.

Since I have always loved the Eucharist and would have liked to receive it every day, I took advantage of the daily shopping to run into church on weekdays, and I did my preparation and thanksgiving on the street so that Mother would not realize from the delay that I had gone to church.

But I repeat: never sermons, of any kind. Never religion classes, of any kind. Catholic Action, one course, attended at irregular intervals, the Leaders’ School by Fr. Cresi in 1931 at the Mantellate’s in Viareggio. But his mode of expression was so difficult that I understood nothing and told him so frankly as well, for none of us understood and no one wanted to confess it to him. I, who have always loved sincerity, did say so.

I have no books on religion, except for the two Primers by Olgiati and the Catechism. The works on the history of the churches and religions were stolen by someone or other. I have The Soul of the Apostolate by Fr. Chautard, which they had us Diocesan Leaders acquire and which I have never been able to read, for—I fall asleep over it. Religious books: the Gospels and The Imitation of Christ. The former have been read for decades; the latter—conserved as a memento of my Mother Superior. Gospel commentaries: a few pages by Giulio Salvadori, and that’s all. No revelations. No meditations.

Before Jesus made me his instrument, I carried out my meditations on my own, as my heart suggested them to me. Without texts or outlines, on the Gospels or the life of St. Thérèse or Sister B. Consolata Ferrero, generally speaking, or on anything which had struck me, perhaps even a flower or a star, or a thunderbolt, or a word I had heard.... My poor meditations at that time are still visible!

A few lives of saints, Bernardette, Don Bosco, St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, St. Francis of Assisi; a few biographies of good people: Mattei, Agostini, Moscati, Pius X, and so on.

Since I have been serving Jesus as an instrument, I have no longer been reading anything. Since March 20, 1946 Fr. Migliorini has had the list of books I own and have owned.

To summarize, with a demanding mother opposed to religious practices and having concluded my studies, I can assert that I have not had human sources to be able to know what I am writing and what, even while writing, I often do not understand.