The Life of St. Gemma Galgani

• Editorial: TAN Books
• Año: 2004
• ISBN:
  9781618905413
• Categoría: Theology & Religion
• Categoría: Christian Denominations

St. Gemma Galgani (1878-1903) was a mystic, stigmatist, visionary, ecstatic, victim soul, discerner of spirits, seer of hidden things, prophetess, spouse of Christ, zealot for souls and devotee of the Poor Souls in Purgatory. She died at only 25. Her mother was also saintly, and it is beautiful to see how she helped cultivate this lily of purity. See how Gemma made great sacrifices painful to human nature from her tenderest years. Inspiring and edifying! Impr. 382 pgs,

Chapter 1

1878-1886: St. Gemma’s Birth and Early Education.
First Flowers of Virtue. Her Mother’s Death.

CAMIGLIANO, a village in Tuscany near Lucca, was the birthplace of the angelic girl whose life I am about to write.

She was born on the 12th of March, 1878. Her parents were Henry Galgani, a chemist, descended we are told from the family of the Blessed John Leonardi; and Aurelia, of the noble house of Landi, both good Catholics of the old school and honored citizens. They had eight children, five boys and three girls. All of them, except three who are still living [at the time this life was first written], died in their youth.

According to the custom of truly Christian parents, these good people were careful that their children should be baptized as soon as possible; and so Gemma, fourth child and eldest daughter, was baptized the day after her birth in the Parish Church of St. Michael in Camigliano by the rector, D. Peter Quilici.

The name given her in Baptism seemed providential, for she was destined to give luster to her family by the splendor of her virtues and to shine as a brilliant gem in the Church of God. The parents of this child of benediction were no doubt moved in a special way to give her this name, for we are told that her mother, just before she was born, was full of joy; and her father also, as soon as he saw her, was impressed with feelings of special gladness. Not having experienced such feelings at the birth of any other of their children, it was natural for them to look on her as a specially precious gift and to call her Gemma. It is certain that they so regarded her as long as they lived. In their eyes Gemma was always the first among all her brothers and sisters. Her father was often heard to exclaim: “I have only two children, Gemma and Gino.” Gino, though her elder by some years, yet tried to copy the virtues of his little sister and thus came to have the second place in his father’s affections. He was an angel of purity and innocence. When he died he was aspiring to the priesthood and had already received minor orders.

Signor Galgani, soon after Gemma’s birth, in order to provide efficiently for the education of his children, took his family permanently to Lucca.

When two years old, Gemma was sent with her brothers and sisters to a private half-boarding school for little boys and girls of the best families. It was kept by two excellent ladies of Lucca, Emilia and Helen Vallini. She continued to go to that school for five years. Her good mistresses some years later in a written report expressed their admiration of her as follows:

Dear Gemma was only two years old when confided to us. From that early age she gave evidence of ripe intelligence and seemed to have already attained the use of reason. She was serious, thoughtful, wise in everything, and differed from all her companions. She was never seen to cry nor to quarrel; her countenance was always calm and sweet. Whether petted or blamed, it was all the same, her only reply was a modest smile, and her bearing was one of imperturbable composure. Her disposition was vivacious and ardent, yet during her whole time with us we were never obliged to punish her; for in the small faults that necessarily attach to that tender age, the slightest reproof was enough for her and she at once obeyed. She had two brothers and two sisters at school with her. She was never seen at variance with them and invariably yielded the best of everything to them, depriving herself of it. At the school dinner, Gemma was always satisfied, and the smile that played on her lips was her only complaint or approval. She learned at once all the prayers that are daily said by children, although, if repeated together, they would occupy half an hour. When five years old, she read the Office of Our Lady and the Office of the Dead from the Breviary as easily and quickly as a grown person. This was owing to the special diligence of the angelic child, from her knowing that the Breviary was a network of Divine praise. She was assiduous at her studies and quickly learned all that was taught her, even things that were superior to her tender years. Gemma was greatly loved in the school, especially by the little girls, who always longed to be with her.

Having lately visited the Signore Vallini in Lucca, I heard their full confirmation of the above report. It ended thus:

We also wish to say that we owe to this innocent and virtuous child a great favor we received from God. While she was attending our school, a very malignant type of whooping cough invaded Lucca, and all our family were attacked by it. We felt that we ought not to keep the five children while it lasted; but having consulted the parish priest, he advised us not to abandon them because their mother was lying ill and in danger of death. We took his advice, and, on dear Gemma praying at our request, the epidemic ceased, and not one of our pupils remained affected by it.

(Signed) Emilia and Helen Vallini

Gemma’s father followed attentively her rapid progress in virtue and learning. He blessed God for it, and at the same time his tender love for her increased.

He used to take her with him for walks. Whatever he gave her or got for her, he insisted should be of the best. On the days of school vacation he delighted to have her near him, and when he came indoors his first question was sure to be: “Where is Gemma?” Upon this the servants invariably pointed to the little room where she spent her time alone in study, or in work or in prayer.

Without doubt such partiality on the part of a father was not praiseworthy, and it was specially displeasing to Gemma, whose singular rectitude of mind and heart was manifest to all from her very infancy. There was not a shadow of jealousy on the part of her brothers or sisters, so great was their love for her, yet her father’s partiality caused her bitter grief. She often complained to him of it, protesting that she was unworthy of such attentions and declaring how much she disliked them. And when she could not prevent them, she poured out her grief in abundant tears.

It occasionally happened that this affectionate father, taking his little one on his knee, would attempt to kiss her, but in this he never succeeded. Angel in human form that she was, though most ardent in her affection, she showed even at that early age an intense dislike to all that savored of sense. Using all her strength to get away from her father’s caresses, she used to say, “Papa, don’t touch me”; and on his answering, “But surely I am your father,” her reply was, “Yes, Papa, but I don’t want to be touched by anyone.” And he, not to sadden her, would let her go and, far from being displeased, ended by mingling his tears with hers and withdrew in astonishment at angelic tendencies like these in so young a child. Gemma in her turn attributed these victories to her tears, and being always on her guard, she knew how to hold them in reserve and used them successfully when needed.

On one occasion a youth, her first cousin, attempted to touch her and paid dearly for it. He was on horseback at the door of their house and, having forgotten something, called out to Gemma to bring it to him. She answered at once and in an instant brought him what he wanted—she was then seven years of age. Touched by the graceful way in which that little service was rendered him, the youth, to show his gratitude to his dear little cousin, put out his hand when leaving to pat her on the cheek. But Gemma immediately repelled his action with such force that, losing his balance, he fell from the saddle and was injured by the fall.

Gemma’s love for her mother was quite different from that which she bore her father and the other members of her family, although it was not less true and strong. Aurelia Galgani was not only a good Christian, but a saint and a most perfect model to all Catholic mothers. Her prayer was continual. Every morning she partook of the Bread of Life with sentiments of vivid faith, allowing no obstacle to prevent her going to church, even when suffering from fever. From this divine Food she drew strength and spirit for the perfect fulfillment of her duties. She loved all her children, but above all Gemma, in whom she, better than anyone else, was able to recognize the gifts of God. Grace had begun very early indeed to operate in the soul of the child. Its workings became evident in her perfect and humble dispositions, in her love of retirement and silence, in her abhorrence of vanity and pleasure-seeking and in a certain dignity of bearing that certainly was not that of a child. Hence her mother, well aware of her own duty and far from indulging in useless demonstrations of affection, set herself with the utmost care to cultivate in her child’s soul those precious germs of all virtues. Here we see a mother becoming the spiritual directress of her daughter, and Gemma, in her turn, full of gratitude to Our Lord for having given her such a mother, was ever mindful of the assiduous and unceasing care thus lavished on her. She used to declare that it was to her mother that she owed her knowledge of God and her love of virtue.

This saintly mother often used to take her Gemma in her arms and teach her holy things, mingling tears with her words. “I begged of Jesus,” she said to her, “to give me a daughter. He has indeed consoled me, but too late! I am failing and soon must leave thee; make good use of thy Mother’s instructions.” And then she would explain to her the truths of our holy Faith, the preciousness of the soul, the deformity of sin, the happiness of belonging entirely to God and the vanity of the world. At other times she used to show her the image of our crucified Lord and say to her, “Look, Gemma, how this dear Jesus died on the Cross for us”; and adapting herself to the capacity of the child, she studied how to make her understand the mystery of the love of God and how every Christian is obliged to correspond thereto. She taught her how to pray and habitually said prayers with her—in the morning, as soon as she arose, in the evening before going to rest, and very often in the course of the day.

All know how tiresome it is for children to listen to sermons and recite vocal prayers, owing to their difficulty in giving fixed attention to anything and to their eagerness for novelties. But it was not so with Gemma. She found her whole delight in those first lessons of piety, and consequently she never tired of hearing sermons and praying; and when her mother got tired, or had to stop in order to attend to her home duties, Gemma, following her closely, used to say: “Mamma, tell me a little more about Jesus.”

The nearer this good mother felt herself drawing to her end, the greater became her zeal and ardor in the religious education of her children. Every Saturday she took them with her to the church, or, if not able to go, got someone else to take them. She arranged for the elder ones to go to Confession, although some of them, including Gemma, were not yet seven years of age. She thus accustomed them while young to frequent this salutary Sacrament. She herself prepared them for it, and when it was Gemma’s turn, this devout mother used to weep on seeing her gravity and attention and the great sorrow she displayed for her little faults.

On one occasion she said: “Gemma, if I could take you when Jesus calls me, would you be glad of it?”

“Where?” answered the child.

“To Paradise, with Jesus and His Angels.” At these words the heart of the little one was filled with great joy, and from that moment there was kindled within her so great a desire to go to Heaven, that it never left her. Indeed, it so increased with her years as to consume her whole being. This we shall see in the progress of her story. She herself once said to me, “It was indeed my Mother who from my earliest years instilled into me this longing for Heaven.” Then, alluding to my having forbidden her to ask to die, she added with indescribable simplicity: “And now, after sixteen years, if I still desire Paradise and long to go there, I get good scoldings for it. To Mamma, I answered, ‘Yes’; and because she so often spoke to me of Paradise, I wished never to be separated from her and never left her room.”

Signora Galgani’s disease was consumption, and for five years it had been wasting her away. No sooner had the doctors ascertained its nature than a strict prohibition was issued forbidding any of the children to approach their poor sick mother’s bed. Gemma was bitterly afflicted at finding herself thus in an instant separated from her whom she doubly loved as a mother and as a spiritual guide. “And now,” she would say in tears, “away from Mamma, who will urge me to pray and to love Jesus?” She begged and implored, and with great difficulty obtained that in her case at least some exception might be made. We can form some idea of how this fervent child availed herself of such a permission. She so took advantage of it that, thinking over it afterward, she felt deeply grieved, believing that she had disobeyed and allowed herself to be led by caprice. She herself tells us how she was employed by that bedside: “I drew near to her and knelt by her pillow, and we prayed.” Sublime instinct in a little girl not yet seven years of age!

Meanwhile, the day of final separation was drawing nigh. The sick mother grew daily worse, although outwardly the imminent danger was not visible. Even at that last stage, she showed herself ever solicitous for the spiritual good of her children. Gemma, though of such tender years, was more than well fit to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. “Now,” thought her devout mother, “I cannot do better than entrust this dear child to the Holy Ghost before I die; when the last hour is near, I shall know to whom I have left her.”

Gemma meanwhile had been preparing herself to worthily receive this Sacrament; and not content with that, she brought a Mistress of the Christian Doctrine to the house every evening in order to add greater perfection to her own work. When all was ready, on the first occasion that offered itself, the child was accompanied to the Basilica of St. Michael in Foro, where the Archbishop, Monsignor Nicholas Ghilardi, was giving Confirmation. It was May 26, 1885. From particulars that escaped from Gemma later on, we shall be able to form some idea of the exceptional communications she received from the Holy Spirit in that Sacrament. It is well that she herself should tell us in all her candor what happened on the occasion.

When the ceremony was over, those who had accompanied Gemma wished to remain to hear another Mass in thanksgiving, and she gladly availed herself of the opportunity in order to pray for her sick mother. “I heard Holy Mass,” she said, “as well as I could, praying for Mamma, when all of a sudden, a voice at my heart said to me: ‘Wilt thou give Me Mamma?’ ‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘but provided Thou takest me also.’ ‘No,’ replied the voice, ‘give Me unreservedly thy mother. For the present thou hast to wait with thy father. I will take thee to Heaven later.’ I was obliged to answer ‘Yes,’ and when Mass was over I ran home. Oh, the ways of God!” This, if we are not mistaken, was the first heavenly locution to Gemma. Many others followed which we propose to relate in their order. The circumstance of the sacramental descent of the Holy Spirit in that innocent soul is of itself a good reason for believing that He was the author of that locution, the truth of which moreover was corroborated by what followed.

Gemma had made the sacrifice to God of what she held most dear in the world; the merit of it was secured to her in Heaven. She came home from the church and found her mother dying. She knelt and prayed by her bedside, shedding bitter tears, declaring at the same time that she would not leave till all was over, as she wished to hear Mamma’s last words. But her father could not bear to leave her there, through fear that she would die before her mother. He made her a sign to leave and directed that she should go with her Aunt Helen Landi to San Gennaro and there remain till he recalled her.

Gemma had nourished a constant hope to be able to keep close to her mother and go with her to Paradise. She had only just resigned that hope at the foot of the altar, and now, again generously obeying her father’s will, she left at once. Meanwhile, her mother rallied a little but soon relapsed and, on the 19th of September, 1886, died the death of a saint in the thirty-ninth year of her age. The sad news was taken immediately to Gemma while still in her aunt’s house, and admirable beyond words was the resignation with which she received it. But we can well imagine what must have been the poignant grief of such a separation.

Thus, O my God, dost Thou will to try souls most dear to Thee, even in their tenderest years.

Chapter 2

1886-1887: At S. Gennaro with an Aunt. Returns to
Lucca. Is Sent to School. Her First Communion.

ALTHOUGH her Aunt Helen, by whom Gemma had been received, was good and pious, yet she could not be compared to her mother. This child, who found pleasure only in practices of devotion, soon became aware of the great void that had been created around her, first by her separation from her mother and then by her death. “Then indeed,” she said to me, “I had to weep over the time when Mamma let me pray so much.” She wished to go to church early in the morning but found no one at that hour to accompany her. She longed to remain alone in some solitary place to commune with God, and they would not leave her in peace even for a moment. Her extreme humility made her look on herself as a great sinner and therefore in need of frequent Confession; nor in this was she gratified, as all knew well what a paragon of innocence she was. In the absence of her spiritual director there was no one to speak to her of Jesus; yet this was the only nourishment she relished. Owing to these and other privations, the poor child had to undergo pains like those of death. But God soon came to shorten her martyrdom.

Gemma’s Aunt Helen Landi loved her angelic little niece most tenderly because of her staid and ingenuous manner, her rare modesty and her illumina...