CHAPTER XIX.

NOVITIATE PROLONGED AT HER REQUEST; OBSERVANCE OF THE HOLY VOWS.

"O Lord, for my portion I have said: I will keep Thy, law." — Ps. CXVIII, 57.

After their holy profession our novices remain one year longer in the novitiate to complete their formation as religious. This time was now drawing to a close for our fervent professed Sister. The life of renunciation and mortification in the novitiate seemed very precious to her, very favorable to her growth in perfection. Skillfully using the pretext that she would render a service as companion to a Sister lately admitted to the habit, she humbly asked to continue this life of dependence and docility. This favor was granted her for one year. When she finally left the novitiate she continued secretly, under the guidance of Mother Anna Maria, then Mistress of Novices, all the exercises of a perfect novice. Our dear Sister said that she still needed to be instructed in her duties, corrected for her faults, guided by strict discipline, in order to preserve her from defects consequent upon her ignorance. The prudent Mistress accepted this task and carried it out scrupulously with the greatest severity. This was no doubt painful to her, but she had the ineffable consolation of seeing her disciple advance with giant strides in the perfection of all the virtues, but above all attracted with evangelical fervor to humiliations and contempt.

The exact observance of the vows is the touchstone of a true religious. We will now consider the minute care and perfection with which Venerable Teresa Margaret observed them. This essential part of the religious life received her most careful and minute attention. While still a child she recognized the treasure hidden in holy poverty. Even then, she made the sacrifice of little presents offered her, and the poor received all that she could carry away from her meals. In religion, in a community where a life in common shone forth in all its beauty, she did not find sufficient occasions to practice poverty in this particular way. In her conversations with her Director, she made known her sorrow at not being in want of anything necessary. And so great was her love for poverty that to her intense distress it seemed to her she had many superfluous things. Everything was too good for her. What was cast away and left over — this was what she desired. To keep in her cell a book, a picture or any such little thing would have caused her a real scruple. She loved manual labor very much, "for by laboring for a living," she said, she "imitated actually poor people." Through a spirit of poverty everything she used was kept in perfect order and neatness. She would gather up with great solicitude all little remnants and scraps to which no one else would give any attention, in order, if possible, to make use of them still longer, thus imitating the ancient Fathers of the Desert, who were careful of crumbs of bread and bits of vegetables.

As regards chastity, we can only repeat of her what has been said of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga. Her angelic purity was rather a gift of heaven than an acquired virtue. During her whole life the calm and peaceful discipline of her senses was never troubled by an evil movement, never darkened by the least thought which could disturb her serene purity. This privileged soul was kept by God seemingly in complete ignorance of the sad consequences of original sin. She lived in the flesh as the angels live in heaven, who are pure spirits. Meantime her chastity was also penitential. After the example of Saint Aloysius, she waged unceasing war against her nature, keeping it hedged in by the thorns by unceasing penance. Her modesty itself formed part of her unremitting mortification. We are told that from an early age she refused the services of a maid. As a religious, her exterior was always distinguished by virginal reserve of manner. During time of sickness it was a torture to her to be obliged to expose her knee to the surgeon and to submit to the necessary bandaging; drops of perspiration were on her brow and tears in her eyes as she watched herself with modest apprehension lest she might receive more than indispensable attention. She did not show the Sisters the wounds in her feet caused by the alpargates, nor complain of the deep chaps which furrowed her hands, fearing the touch of the charitable hands which would have hastened to care for her. On the last day of her precious life, in her extreme agony, she made use of the little strength left her to beg the infirmarian to take every possible precaution that the drawing of blood from one of her feet, which the physician was obliged to perform, should be done with great circumspection, and to allow only what was strictly necessary. A young girl having, through simplicity and ignorance, uttered in her presence a slightly improper word, she was so horrified that she ran away and, hiding herself, wept for a long time. Pleasantries in the least degree suggestive were displeasing to her delicate sensibility, for, without having more than a vague knowledge of the contrary vice, she abhorred by divine instinct and fled from even the shadow of what could dim in the least the brightness of her heavenly chastity. Her countenance reflected as a mirror the beauty of her soul. Something like an angelic halo fell like a veil over her features, giving her a singular charm. It was impossible to look at her without experiencing a chaste feeling of devotion and gaining a knowledge of her sanctity. Her father testified that even when very young, she allowed no familiarity, not even a simple caress.

Finally we must tell of Sister Teresa Margaret's obedience. This is the most important characteristic of the religious life, consecrating as it does our being to God in its most noble part, our will and our understanding, and perfecting the most sublime ideal of holiness. Obedience held in the life of our servant of God the place which gave to it its importance and dignity. She protested that she wished not to live except under strict obedience. Her parents and her mistresses at school admired her wonderful docility, which made her attentive to the least glance or sign, so that she might execute not only their orders but even interpret their desires. She remembered faithfully all the instructions she received, and even wrote them on little tablets, not trusting her memory. This served for her rule of conduct, unless a positive direction commanded the contrary. These written reminders were to her like a collection of laws. There were so many of them, and she paid such faithful attention in adapting them to the multitude of various daily happenings, that her director, fearing the consequences of such mental effort, told her one day not to concern herself about advice given her whilst she had lived in the world, for, being now a religious, it was sufficient for her to conform to the rules and customs of the Order. In all humility she replied that it seemed to her more difficult to give them up than to observe them; but that she was ready to abandon them in obedience to any order or counsel that might be given her. In the person of her mistresses in the novitiate, her prioress, her confessors, and the superiors of the Order, according to the spirit of our holy rule and with consummate perfection she saw God alone, revered their words as an oracle from heaven, having no other thought than to know how to obey in spirit and in truth. It was consoling to witness with what ease, order, alacrity, thoughtfulness and recollection she performed her occupations, accomplishing quickly even unforeseen orders of her superiors; this in addition to the little rules or advice given her or assumed voluntarily through devotion. One felt that she had the special and unceasing assistance of an extraordinary grace of holy obedience. Father Ildefonso, so often mentioned, attests that his advice and instructions, even those which came accidentally from his lips, were received by his penitent with such docility that he was never obliged to repeat them a second time. They were doubly welcome to her when they crossed her will, so happy was she to carry out orders contrary to her own ideas. It was sufficient that something should be commanded her, for her to consider it excellent. And she experienced a joy more or less great as the orders or counsels were more difficult to perform. Her humility caused her to consider and respect everybody as her superiors. She obeyed with the same promptitude and the same pleasure the good lay Sisters; and was docile even to the servants, who, by the ignorance and indiscretion natural to their state in the world, might take advantage of her meekness. It was necessary to be very careful when speaking to her, for, never thinking she did too much, she would over-fatigue herself and undertake unsuitable work as well as that beyond her strength; for the least sign of an obedience was sufficient to make her hasten to perform it instantly.

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