CHAPTER IV

1894–1897

Gemma’s Life at Home & Her Heroic Patience in Great Trials

HAVING LEFT school, Gemma devoted herself earnestly to domestic affairs, and to her little brothers and sisters. She fulfilled all her duties with the greatest exactness, and when she noticed any defect in others she attributed it to her own fault and negligence. The good example she gave at home could not escape being noticed and admired by all, even by strangers, and up to this day it is talked of. Among others, there was a servant in the house, named Peter Maggi, who often accompanied Gemma when she went out of doors. In order to express his astonishment at the virtues of his little mistress, he used to say that they were more than he could tell about, “because Gemma stood alone and there was no one like her.”

She also excited the admiration of others by her singular love of the poor, and she humbly tells us in her obligatory statement, that this charity towards the poor was the only good thing left in her in the midst of so many defects and spiritual miseries: “Whenever I left the house,” she says,” I always wanted money from Papa, and, if he sometimes refused to give it me, I besought him to let me take bread, flour and other things. It was God’s will that I should meet poor people, because three or four met me every time I went out of doors. To those that came to the house I gave linen and all that I could lay my hands on. I was then forbidden to do this by my confessor. Papa gave me no more money; I could not take anything more from the house, and every time I went out I seemed to meet none but the poor. They all ran to me and I could not give them anything. This was a grief that often made me cry, and it was for this reason that I resolved not to go out of the house anymore.”

She was not, however, able to keep this resolution. Her father, knowing her ardent nature and the need she had of exercise, obliged her to go out. Another reason was, that her brothers and sisters in the absence of anyone else might have her as a sure guide and companion in their recreations. Then Gemma obeyed, and, scarcely out of the house, through certain by-ways known to her, they reached the country where they could enjoy the benefit of the open air and be out of the bustle and noise of the town. But, even this innocent recreation, accepted only through obedience and spent amid so many precautions, was destined to be embittered by the devil.

A young man—an officer in the army—having seen Gemma, took to following her. She did not notice this, but she was told of it, and was intensely pained thereat. She thereupon resolved not to leave the house, except to go to the adjoining church of St. Fridian, and succeeded in gaining her father’s leave to act thus.

This devout child had within the domestic walls attained to the highest degrees of virtue and fervor. She believed, however, that she had no such gifts, and, consequently was continually striving to acquire them. “Gemma,” she used repeatedly to say, “you must change, and give yourself all to Jesus.”

She knew how to draw inspiration for renewed fervor from everything; from the church solemnities, from the beauties of nature, from the changes of the seasons, and from the very games in which she sometimes took part. Thus, in one of these games—having been the largest winner—“This,” she said, “is a sign that God wills great sanctity in me, and I too will it.”

The year 1896 was near its end, and the thought of the coming New Year served as an incitement to new desires of a yet more holy life. Rising from a meditation she took the book of memoranda in which she used to note her resolutions, and wrote as follows: “In this new year I purpose to begin a new life, I know not what is going to happen to me during this year. I abandon myself to Thee, O my God! All my hopes and my affections shall be for Thee. I feel my weakness, O Jesus! but I rely on Thy assistance, and I resolve to live differently, that is, nearer to Thee.”

Her daily routine did not change much: she rose early and said her usual prayers; then went to Church for Holy Mass and Communion. Every day she visited the Blessed Sacrament. In the evening she added to other devout practices that of meditation, and said the Rosary on her knees. During the night she rose at different times for about a quarter of an hour, in order to recommend as she used to say, “her poor soul” to Jesus.

We know from herself that at this time Our Savior used to communicate with her Soul by strong impulses of love and vivid intellectual light—Clear Lights she called them. So that in the midst of Temporal affairs, and touching, as it were, the earth with her feet, she ranged in celestial spheres. Heavenly objects so engaged her mind that although engaged in distracting occupations she never lost sight of the supernatural.

Such inner concentration did not hinder in any way the exact fulfillment of her exterior duties. On the contrary, it impelled her to do everything with the greatest diligence and precision because she saw how in this way she greatly pleased her Lord. It was God’s will to detach the heart of this child more and more from all earthly things so as to unite her entirely to Himself. Grace was always at hand and she always corresponded.

About the end of 1895 she had received from a relative the present of a gold watch together with a cross and chain of the same precious metal. In order to please the donor she thought it well to wear these ornaments at least once on going out of doors. But what happened ? On her return, when divesting herself of these trinkets, she beheld her Guardian Angel, who looking at her with severity, said: “The precious ornaments that adorn the spouse of a Crucified King cannot be other than the thorns and the Cross” and disappeared.

Imagine the impression that such an apparition and such significant words must have made on the mind of this child of heaven. Nothing more was needed. She Cast from her both the chain and watch, and knowing that she wore a ring, she took that off also; then prostrate on her face in tears, she made the following resolution: “O Jesus, for Thy love, and to please Thee alone, I promise never more to wear, and not even to speak of, things that savior of vanity.” She kept that promise during her whole life. This is the first intimation we have of Gemma’s intercourse with the Angelic spirits which was afterwards so frequent and even daily, as we shall see. Indeed not only the Angel, but the Lord of Angels favored this blessed child with loving visits.

So she herself tells her director: “Jesus came to me despite my sinfulness, and told me so many things. I don’t know why He did not appear angry with me—once only He seemed displeased? This must have been to try her rather than because of any voluntary fault that she had committed. At eighteen years of age she was found worthy, not only to hear the voice of Jesus, but to gaze at and talk to Him. She had then begun that supernatural life which by degrees rendered her so holy. Not that holiness consists in such extraordinary favors, as many Servants of God who never received them have been raised to the Altars of the Church. But such gifts may be taken as a sure sign of sanctity.

Now what wonder that Gemma being thus gifted should spurn the miserable things of this life, and ardently long for Paradise? Listen to her words:

“From the moment Mamma inspired me with a desire for Paradise I have always longed for it, and if God left it to me, my choice would be to die and fly to Heaven. Whenever I had fever and felt ill, it gave me consolation; and when I recovered from my sickness it grieved me.

“Once after Holy Communion I asked Jesus why He did not take me to Paradise. ‘Because my child,’ He answered, ‘I will give thee many occasions of greater merit in this life through thy increased longing for Heaven, whilst bearing patiently the pains of earth.”

The love of God increased without measure in this young girl’s heart, as did her ceaseless ardent yearnings, until it took the form of an all-engrossing desire of suffering. About that time, in 1896, she thus expressed herself: “I began to feel another strong desire, an insatiable longing for suffering and to be able to share my Savior’s pains. In the midst of my countless sins I every day besought Jesus to let me suffer much. Yes my Jesus, I used to pray, I wish to suffer, and to suffer greatly for Thee.”

Her prayer and meditation were continual. On one occasion these were her words: “I was seized with such intense grief on beholding the Crucifix that I fainted and fell, whereupon Papa, who happened to be at home, began to upbraid me, saying that I injured my health by staying so much indoors and by going out early in the morning. I replied that what hurt me was to be away from Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. Then I hid myself in my room and it was the first time that I gave vent to my grief with Jesus alone.”

This shows how up to that time, in her eighteenth year, she had always suppressed the pain caused her by such trials. “Then,” she continues, “I said to Jesus: O Jesus, I wish to follow Thee at any cost, at the cost of every pain. I wish to follow Thee fervently. No, my Jesus, I will never again, as hitherto, displease Thee by my tepidity. No! I will not offend Thee. These words were dictated by my heart in that moment of grief and of hope, alone with my Jesus.”

Our Lord, meanwhile, by these generous dispositions, was steadily preparing this faithful servant for great things. Gemma had a presentiment of this, and with the presentiment an ardent desire. “In the midst of my very many sins,” these are her words, “I asked of Jesus that I might suffer, and suffer much. Yes, my Jesus! I used to say to Him, I wish to suffer, and to suffer, O so much, for Thee!”

Not, indeed, that suffering was new to her; the reverse was the fact; for, being chosen by Jesus from her infancy, she had always to undergo many trials, as she herself confessed to her director: “I can say with truth that, since mamma’s death, I have not passed a day without suffering some little thing for Jesus.”

But now that she was no longer a child, Our Lord clenched His Divine Hand and dealt His heaviest blows. The first of these strokes was a foot ailment, a necrosis that caused her excruciating pain. This fervent child at first did not think that her ailment deserved consideration, and bore it with generous patience. Meanwhile, because of this want of care, the diseased foot became inflamed, the caries spread, and a surgeon had to be called in. Horrified on seeing the gangrenous state of the foot, he declared that amputation would probably be necessary.

First, however, he wished to operate on the diseased part, and, having come to the carious bone, he began to scrape and probe it deeply. The sufferer would not take chloroform and bore the torture bravely. All around her were shuddering with horror, while she alone remained indifferent and immovable. A slight, involuntary groan, it is true, escaped her at the most painful part of the operation; but, gazing at the image of her Jesus crucified, she became calm immediately and besought Him to pardon her weakness. Thus, as she put it, in response to her earnest entreaty to send her some suffering, Jesus consoled her.

Still, He held other and greater pains in the bitter chalice of His Passion, of which His faithful servant was to taste, when cured of that first corporal suffering. Henry Galgani, Gemma’s father, was a man of the old stamp—good, simple, charitable. And, as he knew not how to deceive anyone, so he could not believe that anyone would deceive him. His great good-nature became known, and not a few managed to turn it to their own account.

From all sides they were coming to Henry Galgani; some to borrow money; others to ask his signature to bills and securities. His tenants defrauded him in the produce of his lands and in the payment of their rents. Add to all this long continued sickness in his family, particularly the maladies of his wife and two sons which ended in death. Then came a hundred other reverses, all helping to eat up his rich family property. When at last the bills that he had incautiously signed, fell due, his bankruptcy was complete. All his property, movable and immovable, was seized, and his large family left to languish in a state of deplorable misery. Very soon afterwards he fell ill with a cancer in his throat, of which he died in a short time, aged fifty-seven, leaving his dear children orphans.

His death no sooner became known to his creditors than bailiffs and other officials were sent to close the pharmacy and seize the few articles of furniture that still remained in the house. Thus, nothing was left. Does it not seem here as if the story of holy Job were passing before our eyes? Let us hear what Gemma has to say about it:

“We entered on the year, 1897; I alone, without heart (she used these words to hide what in her was heroic virtue) remained unmoved by so many misfortunes. That which most grieved the others (note: the others, not herself) after Papa’s fatal illness, was to be left without means. I understood one morning the greatness of the sacrifice that Jesus required at once, and I shed many tears.

“But Jesus, during those days of sorrow made Himself all the more sensibly present in my soul; and, even from seeing Papa so resigned to die, I drew such strength that I bore this bitter separation with great tranquility. The day he died Jesus forbade me to give way to useless grief, and I spent it in prayer, fully resigned to the most Holy Will of God, Who then became my earthly and heavenly father. After Papa’s death on the 11th of November, 1897, we were left without anything, and had not even the means of supporting life.” Gemma was then nineteen years and eight months old.