From the archives, Frances Xaviera Maguire

Frances Xaviera McGuire was born in Ireland on August 17, 1798, and when she was young her family moved to Baltimore. She had an engaging disposition and that made her seem fit for the world rather than religious life, but God inspired her with contempt for follies and vanities, and a desire to consecrate herself irrevocably to His service. She originally thought about entering the Ursulines, but she was told in a dream that God was not calling her there, but instead to the Convent of the Visitation at Georgetown. She hadn’t even heard of it before this dream, and she didn’t want to act too precipitously, so she consulted with her spiritual director in Baltimore. He advised her to pray to God for light to make a proper choice before deciding anything. She also didn’t want to make her intention of retiring from the world public until she had fully determined her path, so she continued to dress gaily and she engaged in pleasantries with others. She still found her heart inclined to this house, however, so she petitioned to be admitted, and she entered toward the end of November, 1816. Her parents, especially her father, were remarkably fond of her, and they were about to move to St. Louis, so this would be a sacrifice for everyone, and she made hers with courage and generosity. In fact, generosity of mind was the most distinguishing feature of this dear sister’s character, and she gave many proofs of it during the short time God permitted her to remain.

Frances Xaviera began and finished her noviceship with much fervor, and then made her holy profession. That day her countenance and demeanor reflected the interior joy of her soul. She took great satisfaction in obliging others, and if it hadn’t been for her health she might have done much more. She was naturally industrious and ingenious, and she had a particular taste for adorning little images and relics. She was employed during some months as assistant to the mistress of Novices, and later as an aid with the boarding students, where she gained their hearts. Her last job was as a habit keeper, demonstrating through that service her sincere affection for all of her sisters.

In the spring of 1821 she had a severe attack of vomiting blood, followed by a second one in March of 1823. After the second episode she declined rapidly, and toward the end of July that same year, despite being a naturally active person, she had to confine herself to the infirmary where she was a very meek, affable, and grateful patient. Instead of complaining, she frequently said that too much care was taken of her (something we also heard in the earlier biography of Sister Margaret Louisa Beall). Frances Xaviera sometimes expressed a desire to die on the feast of her holy patron, St. Francis Xavier, but not unless God pleased. Instead, God called her three months earlier, on the feast of the glorious St. Augustine, “after having been fortified for that dangerous and awful passage from time to eternity, with all the last sacraments and helps of the holy Church and religion. She expired with much peace and composure, and preserved her perfect presence of mind to her last breath. May God grant us the grace to imitate her example.”

From the archives, Margaret Louisa Beall, Part II

MARGARET LOUISA BEALL, PART II

Margaret’s superiors all agreed that they had never met a more docile, sincere, or candid person. She charitably spoke well of all, and when she could say nothing in favor of someone she remained silent. Her meekness gained her the love and affection of almost everyone, and her holy virtue of patience enabled her to withstand trials and “pains of mind.” Even though she was really debilitated, some in the monastery thought her constitution was robust and that she could bear a great deal. She never complained in the least, however, and she said that she did not even harbor an uncharitable thought against those who caused her to suffer. She did admit that she was sometimes tempted to speak up, however, her charity caused her to believe that the sisters actually took too much care of her.

As Margaret’s Novitiate ended her infirmities increased, especially a swelling of her feet which made her fear she wouldn’t be able to perform the ceremonies of her holy profession. As the date grew nearer (this was around the time of the annual retreats), she got better and undertook the spiritual exercises to prepare for her profession. This made her happier, since her desire to consecrate herself entirely to God was almost complete. About three months later, at the beginning of Lent, her sickness became serious. She received the holy Viaticum and extreme unction. She had not, however, yet received the sacraments of Confirmation, as Rev. Dubourg, Bishop of Louisiana, was here on a visit, he conferred this strengthening sacrament on her. (Editor’s note: Bishop Dubourg, whose life is well documented, also served as one of the first presidents of Georgetown University, and he later founded St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore.) Everyone expected that Margaret would soon breathe out her last, and Father Clorivière said the prayers of the agonizing and gave her all the indulgences of the Church and their holy order, but she suffered for three more weeks. The sisters believed this was to purify her more perfectly and fit her for a more speedy union with him after death, and to edify the community by her patience, solid virtue, and perfect resignation to the will of God. One day someone asked her in jest if she was planning to disappoint everyone and get well again. She replied with her usual meekness and affability that disappointment or no, she had resigned herself entirely into the hands of God for life or death, and therefore whatever he pleased would be equally welcome and also would not surprise her. She was also asked if she wanted to see her natural sisters, or at least have them informed of her illness, and she replied that if it were up to her she would not have them come, but she’d leave it up to the will of her superior. The superior did think it proper for her sisters to visit, so they came on Palm Sunday and bid their last farewells to their dying sister.

Margaret’s illness had increased rapidly during Holy Week. Father Clorivière had stopped attending to her earlier when she had gotten better, but now he began again, and he gave her the holy Viaticum again at 10 o’clock on Good Friday morning. By noon she told the community that she was going, so they called Father Clorivière again, and the entire community gathered around her, remaining with her in prayer until she died. “This amiable sister preserved her presence of mind until her last gasp, and it was edifying and moving to see what efforts she made to pronounce the holy names of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She died between one and two o’clock in the afternoon, “during the hours in which Christ himself had agonized on the cross for our sake.” The community believed that, as she died with him, she either went straight to heaven, or at least rose gloriously with him at his resurrection. “God grant to us to imitate her virtues.”

From the archives, Margaret Louisa Beall, Part I

Margaret Louisa Beall was born in Anne Arundel County on May 20, 1800, to wealthy Presbyterian parents. She was only six years old when she lost her mother, so her father put her under the care of one of her older sisters, who had become Catholic. This sister taught Margaret her prayers and gave her Catholic instruction appropriate for her age, but thought it prudent not to let her go to the Catholic church, lest their father, who was an inveterate anti-Catholic, would disinherit them both. However, she did often warn Margaret against falling back into Presbyterian ways when she returned to her father at age 13 or 14 (the reason she was supposed to return to him was so she wouldn’t become Catholic). Margaret was certain she would never act as a Presbyterian, but as soon as she went home she began to omit the observances she had begun with her Catholic sister. When she returned to visit that sister, she was first asked to make the sign of the cross, and then asked if she had forgotten her prayers, etc. She just smiled.

She continued in this dual world until age 18, when she was engaged to be married. She had absorbed anti-Catholic sentiments from her Presbyterian friends over the years, until at last she really couldn’t bear to be with Catholics at all. However, just two years after her marriage her husband died, leaving her with two children. Then she began to have second thoughts about the Catholic faith, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. She began to change her mind, but at first she didn’t tell anyone, not even her Catholic sister. Instead, she secretly asked a virtuous servant woman of her sister’s for religious instruction. When in company with Catholics she would ask questions, seek their opinions, and generally gather information. Finally she sought instruction from a Priest, and she was conditionally baptized, a ceremony that was done in those days if one had already been baptized Protestant, as she had. It was only then that she finally told her sister, and she also had her two children baptized, sometime after which they sadly both died while still infants.

Shortly after the death of her children she petitioned to be admitted to this Visitation monastery, but as soon as her brothers, sisters, and relations found out about it, they violently opposed it. She had sufficient courage and resolution to overcome all those seemingly great obstacles and embrace religious life, which she did in 1821, when she was 21 years old. Three days after her entrance as a postulant she cut her own hair, to show her determination never more to return to the world. She divested herself of all attachments and said she wished to consecrate herself entirely to God and make her sacrifice complete.

Before she entered religious life she had been attacked with some sort of liver disease. This produced other disorders and often put her life in danger, and her physicians said they could not help her. She came to this house, she said, not to live but to die in religion. Consequently she was quite fervent during her Novitiate, but this energy was more than her health could bear. She was told to spare herself a little, but she would reply that she always suspected her feelings, so instead she asked her superiors to tell her when they thought she needed relief or refreshment so that she could do it out of obedience.

From the archives, Mary Bernardina McNantz, Part II

Eventually (and strangely), her cough and all her consumptive symptoms and fever did leave.  Bernardina’s countenance became bright, her conversation sparkled, she laughed heartily, and she did not seem to become tired, but she then entered into a nine-day period of crisis. During that time, everything she said and did was spiritual, sometimes even mysterious, and she only reluctantly ate food at the sisters’ urging, after nearly fasting for three days. While resisting food she’d reply that nourishing the body was beneath her, and that she wanted to quit this earth and earthly things. She wanted to divest of all her possessions, even her clothes, so that she could ascend with Christ into heaven. Once she called herself Nabuchodonosor (a common earlier transliteration today often rendered as Nebuchadnezzar), and said that like him she would eat grass as an ox and dwell with cattle for seven years. Another time she called herself Abraham, and then again Isaac, with the latter character seeming to please her most because he was ready to be sacrificed. She recited long and complicated passages of scripture with great ease, as though she had always been perfectly acquainted with every part of them. She sometimes composed songs based on spiritual texts with advice for those present, often alluding to certain passages of the holy writings in a way that astonished everyone. Our dear Father Clorivière asked her where and how she had learned all these things. She laughed and said she had read them in the Holy Court, a large book owned by the community which she had been free to peruse, although she lamented that she often read too much of it. She sometimes related past events, and even those from the lives of others. She foretold a circumstance that came to pass within two months. During this period she remained fully sensible of everything she said and did, remembering every detail, and she sometimes wondered aloud why she had such a strange affectation.

After her nine-day crisis passed, Bernardina’s cough returned even worse than before, and as it turned out she had only three more months to live. Although she had always feared death, all dread left her a few weeks before she died. She said that if she only had to consider her actions by themselves and have confidence in them alone then she would have great cause to tremble at her last moments. However, when she reflected on the merits of Christ, she felt encouraged to meet her last hour with joy, and “thus did she animate and encourage herself to follow the will and good pleasure of her God in this dangerous passage from time to eternity.” This dear sister begged pardon of the whole community in general, and of each one in particular whom she believed she had offended in the least, with sentiments of the most profound humility and her own deficiencies. She also proved her resignation to the will of God, for when Fr. Clorivière was injured and confined to his room during the time when she was to receive the last sacrament, she had to receive it from Fr. Carey, with whom she was unacquainted, and she didn’t offer the slightest sign of uneasiness. Happily, however, her passing was delayed by two days, and Fr. Clorivière was able to come to the infirmary on crutches to comfort her and pray by her bed when “she finally closed her eyes to this mortal world.” She preserved her perfect presence of mind to the last; about a quarter of an hour before her death she said her feet were cold, and Fr. Clorivière directed that a warm brick be placed by them. The infirmarians didn’t hear his order, however, and concluded that her cold was that of impending death, so they asked her again what she wanted, and she said firmly, “Do what the Father has told you.” Then, after a short agony, she happily slept in our Lord.

It seems worthy to notice that all these three McNantz sisters, Bernardina, Isidora, and Mary Leonard, died on great Sundays, this one being the first Sunday of Lent. Isidora died on Easter Sunday, and amiable little Mary Leonard went on the first Sunday of Advent. In these three sisters may we have--as we may justly hope--three advocates in heaven where we all expect to meet one day, never more to part.

Another sisters' life from the archives: Mary Bernardina McNantz (Part I)

Part I of II

Mary Bernardina McNantz was the birth sister to two others in the community, Isidora and Mary Leonard McNantz. Bernardina was the oldest of the three and only nine when she entered our school. She had a cheerful disposition and was inclined to be fond of the world, but the good example of her sister Isidora helped her turn away from vanity and apply herself earnestly to the practice of virtue. She was bright and took delight in her studies. She did have a rather quick temper, but she endeavored to subdue and overcome it.

Leonard Neale received Bernardina to the habit on August 15, 1817, the feast of the glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, and the same day as her classmate, Susan Angela Boarman (see previous biography); she was fifteen years old. Bernardina was a fervent and exact Novice, to the point where at first she was a bit scrupulous, a problematic characteristic that can sometimes accompany a purity of conscience as great as hers. She improved through prudent care and attention to the instruction of her Director, Mother Harriet Agnes Brent, for whom she had great affection and to whom she opened her heart with simplicity and candor. She punctually took Mother’s advice, and although she sometimes warred within herself to overcome a tendency to judge others, she performed faithfully and became an example of docility and submission to all the Novices.

She made her holy profession the next year on August 21, 1818, the Feast of our holy foundress and Mother, along with Sister Susan Angela Boarman, whom she survived by only one month. Because of weak health she could not finish the second year of her Novitiate, and she sometimes lamented this, for she had an excellent mind and many abilities, and she would have rendered considerable service to religion if her health had not intervened. God, however, took care to purify her with many interior trials, which he used to supplement any deficiency in the exterior trials of the Novitiate which would have been too much for her. She also had a natural sensibility to practice interior self-denial. Bernardina was quite pretty; our physician Dr. Beaty, when called in to consult about her health, saw the floridness of her complexion and said “It was a pity such a beauty should be hidden in a monastery.”

Because of her active, bright mind, she had a great desire to read and know all the books of our order, and to imbibe the true Spirit of the Visitation. These books, however, were nearly all in French, so Father Clorivière agreed to teach the language to some of the sisters, including her.  She applied herself, and in a short time she translated our small books of customs and part of the responses of our holy Mother to them, but unfortunately for us she was forced to stop. Not only did she have a talent for languages, but also for drawing, painting, writing, and embroidery. She left us a memorial of her industry in her embroidery of a fine vestment, which she finished on the eve of her last illness, October 30, 1821. This vestment eventually served in the dedication of our church, which took place on the first day of November, the Feast of All Saints that same year, but unfortunately this poor sister could not attend. It seemed a great pity since she had worked so hard on it, but God had other views unknown to the community.

She had long prayed to be preserved until the age when she would be able to inherit her estate for the benefit of the community, but now that seemed impossible, although the sisters were only concerned about her health. She had been threatened with consumption (tuberculosis) all of her life, and two years prior to this she had a persistent cough that Dr. Beaty first attributed to a “bilious fever,” meaning a fever accompanied by nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Her behavior became erratic: “Some thought her crazy! Others that she was possessed of a devil! Some were even for having her exorcised!” Instead of any of this, however, the community joined in prayer for her.

Another archive installment: Susan Angela Boarman

Susan Angela Boarman was born in Kentucky to a Catholic family on May 20, 1801. Her parents normally lived in Maryland, but they had gone to Kentucky to settle some family affairs. After they returned to Maryland, Angela’s mother died. When Angela was 10 years old her father brought both her and her sister Mary Ann, who became Sister Benedict Joseph, to our academy to be educated.

Angela was inclined to vanity, but through the good example of some of her companions and the pious discourse of Mother Ann Catherine Rigden, to whom she was much attached, she gradually turned her heart to piety and decided she would “dedicate her heart to God in the religious state.” She had the happiness of having Leonard Neale as her Director, and when she was 15 he admitted her to the habit of our order on August 15, 1816, the feast of the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, to whom this dear sister had a tender devotion.  She showed much fervor, joined with a great simplicity, and applied herself earnestly to subdue the nature within her and to be perfect in obedience. In 1817 she made her religious profession on the feast of our Holy Mother, St. Jane de Chantal. She did this together with our dear sister Mary Bernardina McNantz, who died about a month after Angela did.

Angela had a charitable heart, and was always mindful of the needs of others. Ever compassionate toward the sick, she would often deprive herself of her own rest for their relief. She even risked her health, especially during the illness of Mother Ann Catherine Rigden, where she paid assiduous and almost uninterrupted attention to Mother’s needs. She began to waste away, and in a few months she developed “consumption” (tuberculosis). She met her illness with courage and proof of her charity, for as weak as she was, she rose every morning with the community to assist at the hour’s meditation, attend the choir, and follow the community in everything.  No one could convince her to relax in the slightest way from her accustomed duties, and she would not accept any nourishment beyond what was given to the rest of the community.  Sometimes she was found in such a state that they thought she was dead, and though she increased in virtue, she decreased so much in strength that she finally yielded and allowed them to place her in the infirmary toward the end of November, 1821. Even so, she forced herself to be present at the meetings of the community as often as she could, but by the beginning of January, 1822, she was unable to leave the infirmary at all.

She was still charitable and attentive to all around her, and before anyone could put herself to the smallest inconvenience Angela would anticipate the impulse and stop her. For example, it was terribly cold on the nights prior to her death, and Angela would ask quite pointedly if the attending sisters had provided for themselves against the cold. She would not be content, even up to the very night of her death, until she was assured that they had taken care of themselves as she desired. Three months before her 21^st birthday, “[s]he breathed forth her free soul into the hands of its maker with the peace and tranquility of an angel on the 11^th day of January, 1822, having enjoyed her perfect presence of mind to the very last gasp.” She held the rank of choir sister, and had served the community in the offices of Sacristan Vigilant, and Assistant at the school.

Lives of the Visitation Sisters: Frances Xaviera McGuire, 1798-1823

Frances Xaviera McGuire was born in Ireland on August 17, 1798, and when she was young her family moved to Baltimore. She had an engaging disposition and that made her seem fit for the world rather than religious life, but God inspired her with contempt for follies and vanities, and a desire to consecrate herself irrevocably to His service. She originally thought about entering the Ursulines, but she was told in a dream that God was not calling her there, but instead to the Convent of the Visitation at Georgetown. She hadn’t even heard of it before this dream, and she didn’t want to act too precipitously, so she consulted with her spiritual director in Baltimore. He advised her to pray to God for light to make a proper choice before deciding anything. She also didn’t want to make her intention of retiring from the world public until she had fully determined her path, so she continued to dress gaily and she engaged in pleasantries with others. She still found her heart inclined to this house, however, so she petitioned to be admitted, and she entered toward the end of November, 1816. Her parents, especially her father, were remarkably fond of her, and they were about to move to St. Louis, so this would be a sacrifice for everyone, and she made hers with courage and generosity. In fact, generosity of mind was the most distinguishing feature of this dear sister’s character, and she gave many proofs of it during the short time God permitted her to remain.

Frances Xaviera began and finished her noviceship with much fervor, and then made her holy profession. That day her countenance and demeanor reflected the interior joy of her soul. She took great satisfaction in obliging others, and if it hadn’t been for her health she might have done much more. She was naturally industrious and ingenious, and she had a particular taste for adorning little images and relics. She was employed during some months as assistant to the mistress of Novices, and later as an aid with the boarding students, where she gained their hearts. Her last job was as a habit keeper, demonstrating through that service her sincere affection for all of her sisters.

In the spring of 1821 she had a severe attack of vomiting blood, followed by a second one in March of 1823. After the second episode she declined rapidly, and toward the end of July that same year, despite being a naturally active person, she had to confine herself to the infirmary where she was a very meek, affable, and grateful patient. Instead of complaining, she frequently said that too much care was taken of her (something we also heard in the earlier biography of Sister Margaret Louisa Beall). Frances Xaviera sometimes expressed a desire to die on the feast of her holy patron, St. Francis Xavier, but not unless God pleased. Instead, God called her three months earlier, on the feast of the glorious St. Augustine, “after having been fortified for that dangerous and awful passage from time to eternity, with all the last sacraments and helps of the holy Church and religion. She expired with much peace and composure, and preserved her perfect presence of mind to her last breath. May God grant us the grace to imitate her example.”

Part II of the Biography of Susan Mary Margaret Wightt

Susan Mary Margaret Wightt, PART II. I'm touched as I post this with how young some of the sisters of the past were when they died. Mary Margaret was only 20.

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The companion spoken of in the last installment, to whom Mary Margaret Wightt had been so attached in the school and who later became a religious, was made the head of the Novices about three months after Mary Margaret entered the novitiate, bringing Mary Margaret much joy. She demonstrated the sincerity of her love for her dear companion and now Mistress. For the Mistress’s part, she took every opportunity to instruct her pupil, particularly in points of humility and obedience. One day she sent Mary Margaret to the wardrobe to bring her an old garment. Mary Margaret didn’t hear the word old, however, so she brought the very best one she could find, for she felt nothing was too good for her dear Mistress. The Novice Director took this opportunity to humble her Novice, telling her she was still far from having the true spirit of poverty, and that vanity yet reigned in her heart. She instructed Mary Margaret to go straight back and bring her the very worst she could find. The humble Novice did this without offering the smallest excuse to justify what she had done.

She was a true example of obedience, humility, and charity, and she took greater pleasure from obliging than from being obliged. She showed much deference toward her superiors, viewing God in them, particularly in our beloved spiritual Father.

She was made Mistress of Novices in December, 1820, a task for which she was well qualified because of her piety, zeal for regular observance, and other amiable qualities. Alas, however, she developed consumption in early May, 1821. The last sacraments were administered to her by our worthy spiritual Father, “but God, who delights in purifying his elect, was pleased to keep this his spouse on her bed of suffering still some time.” During this interval she showed both meekness and good humor. In fact, she was so gay and cheerful that some thought she might recover. Her Director, one of the sisters, observed that she coughed with much difficulty. This sister even she wished that she could cough for her—a remark that made Mary Margaret smile, and to which she replied, “My dear Sister, do you not know that the brides in former times were accustomed to wear no other garlands on the day of their nuptials than those which they themselves had previously gathered and arranged in due order?” She was full of such spiritual thoughts, and with these fervent comments she continued to inspire the sisters around her. She made many pleasant observations and she laughed heartily with everyone, but she always spoke of the country to which she was going. She had received enough relief from the Last Rites to give her sisters time to observe many proofs of her true and lively faith, piety, and holy liberty of spirit. Because of this delay they felt the loss even more when she died on July 18, 1821, about mid-day. She was 20 years old, and had been four years in her profession, with the rank of choir sister.