The Colossus of Lombardy: Saint Charles Borromeo

One of the greats of the Catholic Reformation! The will of John Shakspear (sic, his spelling), William's father, was based on a template by St Charles.

From One Peter Five

By Robert Lazu Kmita, PhD

Doctor in civil and ecclesiastical law, an aristocrat by birth on his father’s side—Count Gilbert of Arona—and also on his mother’s side, Margaret (the sister of Pope Pius IV), who descended from the Milanese branch of the famous Medici family, Charles Borromeo (1538–1584) can truly be considered, in every respect, an alter Christus. Following the example of Our Lord Jesus Christ, he gave his life for the flock entrusted to him. Reading the monumental biography written by Giovanni Pietro Giussano (1553–1623) reveals to us the details of a perfectly Christian life. Yet what impresses us most—just as it impressed readers across the centuries—is the heroism he showed during the great plague epidemic, known as “the plague of Saint Charles,” which struck the city of Milan between 1576 and 1578.

The first significant detail we learn from Father Giussano’s biography concerns the origins of this terrible epidemic. It all began with the visit of a distinguished figure of the time, Don Juan of Austria. In his honor, the notables of Milan had prepared lavish celebrations. This happened at precisely the same time when, at the initiative of Cardinal Archbishop Charles, numerous acts of devotion were being organized to revive Christian piety. The festivities in honor of Don Juan could only distract the public’s attention, deeply saddening the saint’s heart. Without resentment but with profound lucidity, he foretold the consequences of these thoughtless worldly entertainments. His biographer bears witness:

The streets which had lately been paced by penitents in sackcloth now reeled with crowds of maskers in the gaudy liveries of the world. These were evidences of a lightness and instability of purpose which wounded the heart of the saint. Great indeed was the grief with which he foretold the punishments which would shortly come upon his infatuated flock.[1]

When Father Jerome Maggiolini of Monza wrote to the Archbishop about a strange fever that had already begun to claim victims, the Cardinal immediately understood that punishment was at the door. With the same visionary calm, he once again declared “that the people of Milan had called down upon themselves the wrath of God by their ingratitude and forgetfulness of His mercies.”[2] Without anger toward the flock’s carelessness, his message echoed the words of our Lord Jesus Christ to the inhabitants of Jerusalem:

How often would I have gathered together thy children, as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and thou wouldest not? (Matthew 23:37).

And, like his Master, Saint Charles would sacrifice his own life for those who had ignored his warnings and tireless apostolic labors. When Father Giussano told him about the protective measures taken by the city authorities against the epidemic, he replied that no human power could prevent disaster. With exemplary perseverance, he repeated that only divine intervention could stop the plague. And indeed, it soon broke out, halting instantly all worldly ceremonies and feasts. The cowardice of those who had indulged in revelry soon became evident:

Then mirth was changed into mourning. The prince, in whose honour this unseasonable merry-making was held was the first to take fright and fly to Genoa in hot haste, followed by the Governor and many of the nobles, leaving the city full of dismay.[3]

Abandoned by most of their leaders, the people turned to their only visible support—Saint Charles Borromeo. From that moment, he revealed the incredible greatness of his nobility, illuminated by the imperishable glory of divine holiness, which grew ever brighter to reveal to the world the Colossus of Arona. Calmly, he spared no effort to organize care for the sick. He spoke to the few nobles who had remained, convincing them not to flee like the others. But what the saint knew better than anyone was what must be done to obtain God’s mercy. The description is deeply moving:

Being fully persuaded that this visitation had been sent as a chastisement for sin, he gave himself up to prayer with greater frequency and fervour than usual to avert the anger of God, and to ask for light to know and grace to do His holy will. These prayers he accompanied by increased fasts and austerity of life, depriving himself of his straw pallet, sleeping upon bare boards, with only a sheet for coverlet, and spending great part of his nights in prayers and tears, chastising in himself the sins of others in order to appease the indignation of God against his flock.[4]

However pale our words may seem compared to the grandeur of such a soul, we must exclaim: behold a true shepherd! Behold a saint! Calling insistently to penance, he organized public processions in which both the clergy and members of religious orders, as well as the few nobles who remained in Milan, took part. His cry reminds us of the words of the angel in the last part of the secret of Fatima: “Penance, Penance, Penance!”[5] Like another Saint John the Baptist, he ceaselessly called everyone to repentance. At the same time, he continued to perform deeds that entered into legend.

Deeply moved by the heroism of his crimson-robed predecessor, Cardinal Manning recounted in the introduction he wrote to the English edition of Saint Charles’s life several of these deeds. But the first image he impressed upon our memory is the only balm for the souls of the afflicted: the tears of Saint Charles streaming from eyes pained by the misery and suffering he saw everywhere. The Colossus of Arona had a father’s heart. Amid the cries and groans of the dying, he confessed, prayed, blessed, and encouraged wherever hope had perished. Returning from his journeys, he leaned against the walls, nearly crushed under the weight of the mission he bore. On one such occasion, he said:

Have you fully realised the depth of wretchedness of these poor people, not plague-stricken alone, but forsaken of men, and what is far more deplorable, destitute of spiritual succour, not a single priest being found to take compassion upon them? It is I who am the cause in not having been the first to set the example of aiding them. Still, if God does not send them help in other ways, I know my duty.[6]

His final words were absolutely extraordinary: “I know my duty.” Heroic words from a true aristocrat, cardinal, and holy shepherd of the Roman Catholic Church. Every lover of Holy Tradition can make them a rule of life and action.

Beyond the rare qualities of his leadership, the measure of his love for the souls entrusted to him is overwhelming. As living proof, we recall the two deeds of Saint Charles that Cardinal Manning insisted on retelling in his introduction. The first concerns a mother and her little daughter, both stricken by the plague and trapped in a house whose door had been sealed. Without hesitation, the scion of the illustrious Borromeo family used a ladder to climb through an upstairs window into the room where the two lay. The mother was dead. After praying for her soul, the Cardinal descended the ladder holding the child tightly in his arms. The child survived. Deeply moved by this incredible act, Manning rightly exclaimed: “A deed worthy of a picture.”[7]

A second equally astonishing deed occurred when Cardinal Archbishop Borromeo himself, stricken by the fever of the deadly plague, was brought from his family residence in Arona to Milan. Despite his terrible state, what do you think the Saint did? With a faint but gentle and steady voice, he questioned the boatmen ferrying him across Lake Maggiore, making sure they knew their prayers, the act of perfect contrition, and the essential teachings of the Catechism. In other words, even standing before death itself, he never ceased to care for the souls of his flock. Here, His Eminence Cardinal Manning adds a masterful commentary that reveals the secret of one of Italy’s most brilliant saints:

Such a life can be formed only by a faith which lives in the unseen world, while it toils and suffers in this; and by prayer which is a second consciousness at all hours, sustained and deepened by habitual meditation on the Passion of our Redeemer. The Burial of Jesus in the Tomb was his constant meditation because it was the lowest humiliation of God, and perhaps because it promised the only rest he looked for in his waning life.[8]

Indeed, it was the supernatural faith of Saint Charles Borromeo that earned him the crown of sainthood. Father and Doctor of catechists, fierce defender of Christian orthodoxy against sects and heretics, he was a truly loving father to the souls entrusted to his care. In dark times such as ours, we are convinced that his example can animate, encourage, and inspire us. That is why we must pray with confidence, asking him to intercede before the throne of the Heavenly King so that the thick cloud of heresy and immorality that darkens the sky of the Church militant may be dispersed.

Sancte Carol Borromee, ora pro nobis!

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[1] John Peter Giussano, The Life of Saint Charles Borromeo, Cardinal Archbishop of Milan, With Preface by Henry Edward Cardinal Manning, Vol. I, London-New York: Burns and Oates, 1884, p. 368.

[2] Ibidem.

[3] Op. cit., p. 369.

[4] Op. cit., pp. 369-370.

[5] Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, The Message of Fatima: https://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20000626_message-fatima_en.html [03 November 2025].

[6] Op. cit., p. 377.

[7] Op. cit., p. XXV.

[8] Op. cit., pp. XXV-XXVI.