CHAPTER IX.

RECEIVING THE HABIT; NOVITIATE.

"O sacred state of religious bondage which makes men equal to angels.^"

— IMITATION, BOOK III, CX.

The tenth of January, 1765, was the happy day of Anna Maria's reception. The day of her clothing was fixed for the eleventh of March, eve of the canonization of our holy Mother St. Teresa. There is in Florence the most touching of customs on the eve of the clothing of a religious. The young girl who expects on the following day to receive the holy habit invites all the postulants who have been accepted by the Chapter, and who, for the same reason as her own, are out of the monastery, to meet her at the ceremony. In the afternoon they come, with great pomp, accompanied by nobles and pious ladies, to escort the newly betrothed to the monastery. In the case of Anna Maria, because of her illustrious family, the nobility of Florence considered it an honor to assist at her solemn entrance. After adoring the Most Blessed Sacrament, the Reverend Father Provincial presented the postulant with a crucifix, which she pressed to her heart. Then he conducted her to the door of the enclosure with the entire cortege of her guests. There Anna Maria gracefully turned, returned thanks with touching words, and then separated herself forever from her father and the world. Calm and smiling, she resolutely crossed the threshold and joined the procession of religious who awaited her in two ranks, clothed in their white choir mantles and their long black veils, candles in their hands. It seemed a vision from heaven. The door closed. The happy aspirant was led to the choir, while all chanted the Te Deum.

The following day the ceremony of the clothing took place, also celebrated solemnly. Everyone of high station assembled about the Redi family outside the grill, and each one on leaving were themselves as deeply touched at the sight of the radiant countenance of the postulant, which reflected a heavenly joy. Anna Maria received the name of Sister Teresa Margaret of Jesus, which was given her to satisfy her particular devotion to the Sacred Heart. How is it possible to describe her joy at having reached the first steps of the height of her ambition, and at tasting the first delights of the spiritual nuptials which unite the soul to the Divine Lamb? Sister Teresa Margaret would for the future wear the livery of evangelical poverty, the coarse robe of Carmel, more precious in her eyes than the most elegant apparel, and the sceptre of kings. This novice of benediction, whose first steps in the religious life we will now accompany, felt an insatiable desire to sacrifice herself, after the example of her model, Saint Aloysius of Gonzaga by a continual interior and exterior mortification. Our Lord anticipated her wishes, by giving her a Mistress of Novices formed in the school of the ancient Fathers of the Desert. This was Rev. Mother Teresa of Jesus of the Guadagni, a Discalced Carmelite who died in the odor of sanctity. Her great intelligence, but above all her experience and piety, had given her a prudence and a supernatural light "to discern spirits," that is to say, perceive good and evil tendencies, and thus direct the novices committed to her care wisely. To all these qualities was united a rare spirit of austerity.

Inspired no doubt by God, she guided Venerable Teresa Margaret with a firmness and severity which was almost cruel. She mortified her, humbled her, corrected her on all occasions, even for the most innocent acts, for tasks accomplished in the most perfect manner, and even for things she had commanded her to do. She seemed to discover faults in her continually, and found occasions of mortifying her in such a way as to cause the religious who witnessed it to shiver. But this rude school caused the soul of the noble-hearted novice to expand with joy, for she found in it occasion to imitate the Divine Master in His humiliations. On the other side we can only praise the zeal of the Mistress, who had understood to what a height of perfection this young religious had been called, and who wished to neglect nothing that God's gifts to her might bring forth fruit. In this she followed our holy Constitutions, which say the Novice Mistress should teach them "to break their own will, even in the least things     mortifying them in proportion to the strength and virtue she remarks in each one." Here is an incident to explain what we have been saying. One day during recreation Sister Teresa Margaret's Mistress told her to take lessons in folding altar linens, according to the custom in Tuscany, under the direction of the assistant Mistress of Novices, who, seated at a table, was at the time occupied in this work. The Venerable Sister rose eagerly and knelt beside the assistant Mistress. She remained a few moments watching, then with joyous vivacity she said, "Let me do the work, I understand what I must do." These innocent words had scarcely been uttered when the vigilant Mistress reproved her severely: "Sister Teresa Margaret, I thought you had more humility. Put that down and continue to learn." The novice left everything and prostrated herself on the floor, so remaining whilst the reprimand continued; then, having told her to rise, the Mistress added: "Have you not yet learned that humility is the foundation of perfection? Do not forget it for the future." The Venerable Sister expressed her gratitude according to the touching custom at Carmel: "May Our Lord reward your charity." She returned to her work with perfect good humor and unclouded gaiety, which continued during the rest of recreation. The time having arrived for the novices to retire, each one to her cell, she whispered in the ear of the assistant Mistress (it was Mother Anna Maria Picolomini), "Please recommend me to God in order that I may become less proud." And the good religious, who made known this little incident, declares that she never at any time before or after detected in her the least trace of pride. If this little anecdote falls under the eyes of worldlings, they will call it foolishness. We judge very differently, we who know how painful to nature is correction, how difficult it is to suppress the risings of self-love, above all in youth, when the spirits full of life and ardor suffer painfully in being repulsed and crushed for an innocent outburst of zeal. Yes, all this is hard; to know how to keep oneself down and preserve peace of mind, and even feel joy on occasions of suffering — this is indeed a proof of great virtue. How often, after an unmerited correction, has our young novice remained for a long time kneeling, her face on the ground. The Mistress would allow her to remain thus longer than customary, so much so that several religious, much distressed, would ask her if she had not forgot ten to give the order to rise. "I understand," the inflexible Mother would reply, "and when the time comes I will tell her to rise." Receiving this order she would rise, her face crimson, but calm and full of joy, notwithstanding the discomfort and suffering caused by this long prostration. We must say in all truth that the novices were in admiration of so much virtue, and the prudent Mistress knew how secretly to hold up our Venerable Sister as a model to her companions.

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