Image: Wikipedia

We might imagine that, in the hallowed Lisieux Carmel, there was no laughter.  This story of how the celebration of a national civic holiday dramatically invaded the Carmel shows us how the nuns, especially Therese, could laugh.  It also allows us to get to know Therese’s novice mistress, Mother Marie of the Angels, who played a brave role in this irresistibly comic episode.

July 14 in France

After Bastille Day (the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille during the French Revolution on July 14, 1789) was declared the "national holiday of the Republic" in 1880, it was celebrated all over France every year:

From the outset, the emphasis was on the patriotic and military character of the event, expressing France’s recovery from the defeat of 1870. Every commune or locality in France held its own celebration, starting with a torchlight parade on the evening of the 13th. The next morning, church bells or gun salutes announced the military parade, which is followed by a luncheon, spectacles and games, with dancing and fireworks ending the day.¹

Mother Marie of the Angels

The town of Lisieux, in the province of Calvados, organized its own celebration, centered on the town square before St. Pierre’s Cathedral, where the pharmacy owned by Therese’s uncle, Isidore Guerin, was located.  One year, sometime between 1888 and 1895, while Sister Therese of the Child Jesus was living in the Carmel, the "spectacles and games" there in the afternoon forced their way into the Carmel in a surprising fashion.  The heroine of the episode was Therese's novice mistress, Mother Marie of the Angels (1845-1924).  Born Jeanne de Chaumontel, she was the daughter of a count who was a knight of the Legion of Honor.  Several times, during her religious life, she displayed the courage of the true aristocrat.  Marie of the Angels testified at both processes for Therese; she lived to see her novice beatified, but died in 1924, before the canonization.  Writing her obituary circular, Therese’s sister Pauline, Mother Agnes, recounted some of these incidents.

The Flood

On July 7, 1875, long before Therese entered, a catastrophic flood devastated the lower parts of Lisieux.  (Zelie's letters show that she sent a contribution to the fund for the flood relief²).  After eight hours of torrential rain, the flood violently damaged the Carmel, which was located in the valley of the Orbiquet River.  In less than 15 minutes, the flood filled the monastery with oily sludge.  Several nuns almost died trying to rescue the poultry and the laundry, and the public chapel, where the Blessed Sacrament was reserved, was flooded.  The nuns could reach it only if someone could fit through the “little Communion grille” [see it by clicking and scrolling to the bottom left of the page] which divided the nuns’ choir from the sanctuary of the chapel.  Marie of the Angels, the thinnest of all the nuns, wriggled through the grille and rescued the Sacrament.  Upstairs, the nuns knelt in prayer before the tabernacle all night.³

The Fire

Pauline tells how, after Therese entered, Marie of the Angels intrepidly extinguished a fire which could have destroyed the monastery:

One day Sister Marie of the Angels admired the composure of her holy Novice at the beginning of a fire who was only imitating the intrepid Mistress that nothing frightened. A container of gas had caught fire in the work area of the lamps; our courageous Sister slipped into the little room that was filled with flames. She was soon surrounded by them. Invoking the Blessed Virgin, she soon extinguished the fire but not without burning her hands in such a way that she had to wear bandages very painfully for weeks to heal.⁴

Facing the Demon

In this story of July 14, Sister Marie of the Angels showed courage in facing what she believed was a supernatural enemy.  Her bravery was no less admirable because she was mistaken.  We do not know the year, but the incident took place sometime before Therese’s cousin, Marie Guerin, entered in August 1895.  She heard the story and saved it up to tell her father on July 17, 1896, shortly after her first Bastille Day in Carmel.  Having lived in the apartment above the pharmacy, which directly overlooked the town square, she and her father were familiar with how the holidays were celebrated:

You know and can remember, dear darling Father, that on 14th July and other public holidays, small balloons used to be let loose before the big balloons to amuse the crowd, among others little men, puppets and others of different colours, about the size of a 9 or 10-year-old child. You can remember these little balloon men, can’t you?... It’s absolutely vital for my story… One of these little balloon men came and ran aground one 14th July in the inner courtyard of the Carmel. Mother Sub-Prioress (Sister Marie of the Angels, first launderer, at least during Thérèse’s noviciat) and other Sisters who were working in one of the rooms saw this little man descend into the inner courtyard. Fear seized them, they turned pale and didn’t dare move…

They had never seen the like before… Finally they decided to go outside with a broom wanting to slay the little man.⁵

[Marie tells how, when Mother Marie of the Angels struck down the “little man” with a stick, he repeatedly bobbed up from the ground, face first, and appeared to be bowing to her :]

But the more they hit the latter, the more he tried to fly away and, like a balloon, didn’t stay put and kept bowing to Mother Sub-Prioress who, seized with fear, shouted: “It’s the devil!... It’s the devil!... we must kill it!... we must kill it!...”⁶

Later, in 1924, Pauline wrote that the “little man” looked like a “frightful midget coming down. It was dressed in a flesh-colored suit that was so tight that it appeared to be nude.”  When Marie of the Angels hit it with the stick, it “seemed to mock her and answered with deep bows and a calm smile that she deemed satanic. She cried, “Throw holy water on it!”⁷  Marie Guerin continues:

Well, the more they chased him, the more the little man followed Mother Sub-Prioress, bowing to her. He even mounted to the first floor terrace [above the cloister].  This panicked everyone further, then he came down… and, still convinced it was the devil, another Sister went to fetch the holy water and sprinkler!!!... While Mother Sub-Prioress was chasing the little man, Mother Heart of Jesus (Miss Pichery) sprayed him and made the signs of the cross. All the while this little game was going on, and it went on a long time, the sprinkler produced the desired effect. At last, by dint of chasing the unfortunate balloon, they eventually burst it. Then Mother Sub-Prioress saw that her famous devil was simply a balloon. Everyone laughed hard, apparently, and for a very long time, its carcass was hung in a tree like a trophy and to scare away birds.⁸

 Pauline concludes: “Sister Therese of the Child Jesus laughed until she cried.”  She adds that, soon afterward, the town authorities sent a representative to the Carmel to apologize and to ask whether one of the balloons that had escaped from the square had disturbed the nuns.  The portress answered as best she could without telling the drama of the exorcism.⁹

To picture the peaceful cloister courtyard that was disturbed by this "frightful midget" sailing down from the heavens, with Mother Marie of the Angels chasing the balloon and hitting it with her stick while Mother Heart of Jesus sprinkled it and crossed herself, view this video, courtesy of the Carmel of Lisieux, which shows the courtyard starting at 1:27:

Entrance of the monastery from Carmel de Lisieux on Vimeo.

 We can imagine how the nuns laughingly told the story of this “exorcism” to Marie Guerin and to later postulants. 

______________________________________________________________________________________

I am especially grateful to the Carmel of Lisieux for digitizing its archives, translating them into English, and displaying them on the marvelous Web site of the Carmel of Lisieux.  Without them,  I could never have researched and written this article.

1  From "The 14th of July: Bastille Day," on the Web site "France Diplomacy," accessed July 14, 2021.

² From Zelie to her sister-in-law, Celine Guerin, July 11, 1875.  See A Call to a Deeper Love: The Family Correspondence of the Parents of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus, 1863-1885," tr. Ann Connors Hess, edited Dr. Frances Renda.  Staten Island, New York: Society of St. Paul/Alba House, 2011, p. 181.

³  Obituary circular of Sister Marie of the Angels, on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux, accessed July 14, 2021.

⁴ Ibid., accessed July 14, 2021.

^5.  Letter of Sister Marie of the Eucharist to her father, Isidore Guerin, July 17, 1896, on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.  Accessed July 14, 2021.

^6.  Ibid., accessed July 14, 2021.

^7.  Obituary circular of Sister Marie of the Angels^, on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux, accessed July 14, 2021.

⁸ Letter of Sister Marie of the Eucharist to her father, Isidore Guerin, July 17, 1896, on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.  Accessed July 14, 2021.

⁹  Ibid., accessed July 14, 2021.

Wolfgang Sauber / CC BY-SA

It was probably in the summer of 1895  that Therese wrote the poem "The Atom of Jesus-Host" at the request of Sister St. Vincent de Paul, a lay-sister who was evidently not enthusiastic about the monastery's receiving members of the rising bourgeoisie like the Martin sisters. 

Sister St. Vincent de Paul was remarkably devoted to the Eucharist, and she gave Therese her thoughts about herself as the "atom" of Jesus and asked for a poem on that theme.  The energy hidden in the atom had not yet been discovered; to Sister St. Vincent the word meant simply a tiny fleck of dust.*

When Sister St. Vincent de Paul entered the Carmel, she was distressed to discover that the grille between the choir and the sanctuary was covered with black cloth so that the nuns could not even see the tabernacle.  So great was her desire to be as near the Eucharist as possible that she used to spend the whole hour set aside for "mental prayer" in the evening before supper hidden in the corner of the choir closest to the little Communion grille.  This was one of the darkest corners of the choir, but was closest to the tabernacle on the other side of the grille. 

The editors of The Poetry of Saint Therese of Lisieux describe this as "second-rate poetry that we will quickly pass over."  They are not mistaken, for, when she writes according to a unique inspiration, Therese's poems are more spontaneously written and more deeply felt than when she writes to order.  But this poem is of biographical interest because Therese wrote it for Sister St. Vincent de Paul, about whom her sister Pauline, Mother Agnes of Jesus, said "[Therese]  told me she had to overcome more antipathy for Sister St. Vincent de Paul (who was very smart) than for poor Sister Marie of St. Joseph (a mentally ill sister whom Therese helped in the linen room in 1896-1897). "1  Yet Therese wrote four poems for this Sister, and they are not devoid of Therese's own sentiments about the Eucharist.

Sister St. Vincent de Paul and St. Therese

Zoe Alaterre of Cherbourg, orphaned at age eight, grew up at the orphanage operated by the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul in Caen, where Leonie and Celine had boarded in the spring of 1889 to be near their father at the Bon Sauveur Hospital.  Entering at age 22, she was saddened that in Carmel she could no longer receive Communion every day.   She was talkative, had opinions about everything, and was called the "living encyclopedia."  Very courageous in suffering, she worked hard despite being chronically ill throughout her religious life.  Read about the phases of Sister St. Vincent de Paul's complicated relationship with St. Therese in her biography on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.  And read the brief and somewhat humorous obituary circular Therese's sister Pauline, Mother Agnes of Jesus, wrote when Sister St. Vincent de Paul died in 1905. 

i thank the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux for digitizing and sharing the documents that permit us to know Sister St. Vincent de Paul. 

______________

* The Poetry of St. Therese of Lisieux, tr. Donald Kinney, O.C.D.  (Washington, D.C.: Washingotn Ptovince of Discalced Carmelites, 1996), p. 106.

1.  Biography of Sister St. Vincent de Paul on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux at http://archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/les-soeurs-dexperience/st-vincent-de-paul/biographie, accessed 8/5/2020.

The Capture of Saigon by the French, February 28, 1859, paintd by Antoine Morel-Fatio. Public domain..

July 29, 1895

July 29, 1895 was an eventful day in the Carmel of Lisieux.  It was the first anniversary of the death of St. Therese's father, the now-canonized St. Louis Martin.  It was the feast of St. Martha, a special feast celebrated in honor of the lay sisters, and in 1895 Therese played the role of Jesus in a play she had written, Jesus at Bethany.  On top of that, Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart, a nun from the Carmel of Saigon who had lived at Lisieux since 1883, returned to the Saigon Carmel that day.

The Carmel of Saigon and Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart

After the French conquered Saigon in 1859, more missionaries began to go there.  The Lisieux Carmel, which had a fervent missionary consciousness, supplied, on request, four "foundresses" for the Carmel of Saigon in 1861.  They founded the Carmel in "really heroic conditions."  Two of them, whose health could not adapt to the vastly different climate, returned to France, but the community remained and began to receive native applicants.  Among them was Maria de Souza, born in Macao in 1850 of a Portuguese father and a Chinese mother.  She entered the Saigon Carmel in 1874, when baby Therese in far-off France was a year old.  [See a photo of the Saigon Carmel on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux]. Professed in 1876 as Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart, she had a strong desire to transfer to a French Carmel.  The Lisieux Carmel received her in June 1883, about a month after the Blessed Virgin had obtained the cure of ten-year-old Therese. 

Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart and Sister Therese at the Carmel of Lisieux

Indochina, then called "Cochin-China," became a French colony in 1887, a year before Therese entered at Lisieux.  Sister Anne, a member of the community for almost five years, welcomed Therese when she entered on April 9, 1888.  Eight days later Sister Anne gave Therese a holy card on the theme of "the cradle as the first altar of sacrifice," no doubt because the postulant was given the name "Therese of the Child Jesus."  On it Sister Anne inscribed Therese's name, her own name, and the words "United in prayer and sacrifice."  The text on the reverse was titled "The sacrifices of the new law of love."  Later Therese drew a graph on this holy card, using the design, which she adapted, for her painting "The Dream of the Child Jesus." 

In 1893 Mother Marie of the Angels, creating a word picture of each Carmelite of Lisieux for the Visitation at Le Mans, wrote:

Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart, who came from Saigon. A real Chinese type, whose mother is Chinese and whose father is Portuguese.  Filled with spirit, knowledge, and talents, she works wonderfully, but her little strength doesn't allow her to be assigned jobs.  Fervent as a seraph, and truly edifies us by her bravery and her devotion.1

 Just as several of the French foundresses could not adjust to the drastic change in climate, Sister Anne never adapted from the heat of Saigon to the cold and fogs of Normandy.  Her health continued to deteriorate, and she had to give up her dream of remaining at Lisieux.  On July 29, 1895 she had to return to the Carmel of Saigon.

St. Therese's possible departure for Indochina

After she left, the bond (strong since 1861) between the Carmel of Lisieux and that of Saigon remained powerful.  In the second half of 1896, the Saigon Carmel was asking for "foundresses" [French citizens,necessary to make a new foundation in the colony of Cochin-China] for a new monastery at Hanoi.  Mother Gonzague considered sending MotherAgnes of Jesus, then Sister Genevieve (Celine) and Sister Marie of the Trinity, and finally Therese herself.  In November 1896, the Carnelites began a novena to now-St. Theophane Venard to know whether God wanted Therese to go to Indochina.  During the novena, her health grew worse, and she never transferred there.

St. Therese's letter to Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart in Saigon

On May 2, 1897, a special feast day at the Lisieux Carmel, Therese, at the suggestion of her prioress, Marie de Gonzague, wrote a letter to Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart in Saigon.  She wrote:

I recall with joy the years I spent in your company. . . . The hot sun of Saigon is nothing in comparison with the fire burning in your soul.  Oh, Sister! I beg you, ask Jesus that I myself also may love Him and that i may make Him loved.2

Therese sends her respectful good wishes to the new prioress, who had succeeded Mother Philomena of the Immaculate Conception from Lisieux; Mother Philomena had died in 1895. 

When Therese was in the infirmary, her sister Celine, Sister Genevieve, seeing her so ill, remarked "When I think that they are still waiting for you in Saigon!"  Therese answered:  "I'll go there very soon; if you only knew how quickly I will go!"  The chapel in the Carmel of Saigon today contains a replica of Therese's shrine at Lisieux. 

Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart's one testimony about St.Therese

Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart was to die in Saigon in 1920.  Unfortunately, neither the Carmel of Saigon nor the Lisieux Carmel prepared an obituary circular for her.  For what is known and for her photo, see Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart on the Web site of the Archives of the Carnel of Lisieux.  Yet Sister Anne lived long enough to offer a valuable testimony about St. Therese.  Toward the end of Sister Anne's life, when the not-yet-canonized "the Servant of God, Sister Therese of the Child Jesus" had taken the world by storm and it was known that Sister Anne had lived with her in France for seven years, she was often asked about Sister Therese, and she answered in words that show how well Therese succeeded in her desire to live a completely hidden life:

There is nothing to say about her;she was very good and very self-effacing; one would not notice her; never would I have suspected her sanctity.3

______________

1.  Sainte Therese de l'Enfant Jesus at de la Sainte-Face, Correspondance generale, T. II.  Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1992, pp. 1174-1175.  Translation copyright Maureen O'Riordan 2020.

2  Letters of St. Therese of Lisieux, Vol. II: 1890-1897.  Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelite Friars, 1988, pp. 1090-1091.

3.  Ibid., p. 1091, note 2.

I thank the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux for digitizing Therese's letter to Sister Anne of the Sacred Heart and for making it possible to link to her photo and biography, to the holy card she gave Therese, and to the paintiing Therese produced from that holy card.

Jesus at Bethany, Therese's fourth 'pious recreation'

for the feast of St. Martha, July 29, 1895

DeFacto / CC BY-SA

 At the Lisieux Carmel, the feast of St. Martha on July 29 was celebrated as the feast of the lay-sisters.  At that time the monastery, somewhat mirroring the class structure from which its applicants came, had two ranks of sisters: the choir nuns, who recited the Divine Office in choir, and the lay-sisters, called in French "converse."  The lay-sisters, of whom there were five in Lisieux Carmel in 1895, wore a white veil all their lives.  They did not recite the Divine Office, substituting a certain number of "Our Fathers."  They went to bed earlier than the choir nuns and got up earlier, and they were responsible for much of the monastery's heavy domestic work: cooking, gardening, looking after the poultry.  They often came from poorer families and had had less education than the choir nuns. 

On the feast of St. Martha, the roles were reversed.  All the choir nuns gave small presents to the lay-sisters, and, because a much richer menu was permitted, the benefactors of the monastery, the Guerin family, sent in lavish treats for them. See the letter of Marie Guerin (Sister Marie of the Eucharist) to her parents in 1896, thanking them for melons, chocolates, and other delicacies. All the lay-sisters signed it.

The lay-sisters were not allowed to set foot in the kitchen; instead, the novices had free rein there on that day.  For the novices, the day was somewhat hilarious; see Marie Guerin's letter to her father in 1898 describing their adventures and how thoroughly they enjoyed the feast.

In 1895 St. Therese wrote a simple but profound play, "Jesus at Bethany," for the feast-day recreation.  It had only three characters:  Jesus (played by Therese); Mary (played by Marie of the Trinity); and Martha (played by Therese's sister Celine, Sister Genevieve of St. Teresa).  It is a dialogue in which Jesus speaks at length first with Mary and then with Martha.  All the lines are written to be sung (to four different melodies).  Note that, like many people at that time, Therese believed that St. Mary Magdalene was a former prostitute and that she and Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, were the same person.  Thus her character is called "Magdalene."

Unlike other authors, although Therese mentions the contrast between contemplation and action that Mary and Martha are often thought to represent, she does not dwell chiefly on it.  Instead, her interest is in whether the "pure soul" (Martha) or the "repentant soul" (Mary, in the play usually called only "Magdalene") can love God more.  In the first manuscript of her memoir, which she is writing this year, she presents this conflict, expressing her profound conviction that the pure soul can love at least as much.  God has loved that soul more by preventing it from falling in the first place.

Mary is grieved that she has caused Jesus sorrow, but he assures her that

with a single stroke of flame

I can change hearts.

Your soul, made young again

By my divine look,

Will bless me without end

In eternal life.

This theme of the divine "look" that instantly rejuvenates the soul is dear to Therese; it appears in the "Offering of myself to Merciful Love" she had just made on June 9.  Her Jesus insists that he loves both sisters:

My goodness without equal

Would like that the sinner

And the virginal soul

Rest on My heart.

He promises Mary that one day she will rise higher than the angels and asks her on earth 'to draw hearts to Me."  Martha enters the dialogue with the complaint she makes about her sister in the gospel.  He acknowledges Martha's generosity but wants something more from her.  She realizes:

I finally understand it, Jesus, supreme beauty.

Your divine look has penetrated my heart.

All my gifts  are too little, it is my soul itself

That I must offer You, O very loving Savior . . . .

Jesus tells Martha that she offers him innocence and Mary has humility.  Martha understands the union of their apostolate:

Jesus, to delight You, I want all my life

To despise honors and human glory.

While working for you I will imitate Mary

Seeking only Your divine gaze.

Therese insists gently that it is not whether one is engaged in work (which must be accompanied with "fervent prayer") or in contemplative prayer that matters; "it is your heart that I desire."  These are only four verses from this artless but significant "pious recreation," which sheds light on a theme extremely personal and dear to Therese. 

Thanks to the generosity of the  Washington Province of Discalced Carmelites and the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux, you can read the text of Jesus at Bethany online.  When you have done so, I highly recommend consulting the volume The Plays of Saint Therese of Lisieux, perhaps the least-known volume of the works of St. Therese published by the Institute of Carmelite Studies.  Its introductions and notes set forth the community context in which each play was written and performed and offer invaluable insight into  the place each composition has in the tradition of the Teresian Carmel and in Therese's personal development.

I thank the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux for the two letters of Marie Guerin which give us such a personal taste of this annual feast. 

Sister Madeleine of the Blessed Sacrament, 1817-1892

Therese finds Sister Madeleine dead 

We left the Lisieux Carmel on Monday evening, January 4, 1892, when Mother Febronie, the subprioress, died, accompanied by Therese and by the infirmarian, Sister Aimee of Jesus.  The next morning, as Celine recorded, the friends of Carmel gathered for the funeral of Sister Saint-Joseph of Jesus, the foundation’s first postulant.  Two mornings later, on Thursday, January 7, Therese discovered that Sister Madeleine of the Blessed Sacrament, the oldest of the Carmel’s four lay-sisters, or, as the French called them, “converse,” had died during the night.  [Lay-sisters did not recite the Divine Office; they recited simpler prayers instead and did more of the community’s heavy domestic work.  They wore white veils].  In Story of a Soul Therese writes:

One morning upon arising I had a presentiment that Sister Magdalene was dead; the dormitory was in darkness, and no one was coming out of the cells. I decided to enter Sister Magdalene’s cell since the door was wide open.[1] I saw her fully dressed and lying across her bed. I didn’t have the least bit of fear. When I saw that she didn’t have a blessed candle, I went to fetch one for her, along with a wreath of roses.[2]

The Carmel has documented that, at one o’clock in the morning (Therese would have arisen several hours later, at 5:45 a.m.), another nun or nuns, who presumably had found Sister Madeleine dead, had washed her body and dressed her for burial, a ceremony known as the “toilette mortuaire.”[3]  (This explains why her body was clothed in the full habit at dawn, when Therese found her).  The name of the nun or nuns who rendered Sister Madeleine this service was not recorded.  Had another sister been  with her at the moment of her death, Mother Gonzague would have described her final moments in her circular, so we can infer that she died during the night; one hopes that she slipped away in her sleep.  Because almost all the other nuns were sick, it was impossible to maintain a vigil of prayer by the dead sister’s body; Therese wrote: “As soon as a Sister breathed her last, we were obliged to leave her alone.”[4]  Sister Saint-Joseph had, at least, the chaplain and Therese with her, perhaps one or two others; Sister Febronie was accompanied by Sister Aimee of Jesus and Therese; but God came for Sister Madeleine like “the Thief,” as Therese later called him.  On discovering Sister Madeleine’s body, Therese, as sacristan, noticed the absence of the Paschal candle it was customary to place near the body of a dead sister and of the wreath of roses the nuns wore on their Clothing, Profession, and jubilee days, as well as after their death, and she supplied them both. Then she went down to the choir for the usual morning prayer in silence, near Sister Febronie’s coffin.  Sister Febronie’s funeral had already been set for the next day, Friday, January 8^th.

Before looking at the death circular and the double funeral, let’s look at Sister Madeleine’s life.  This task is made much harder because, like Sister Saint-Joseph, she had asked that, in her circular, nothing be said about her life.  But what can we glean about the woman who was in the Carmel almost fifty years and lived with Therese for nearly three years?

Desiree Toutain's youth

  Saint Martin de la Lieue: the church and the river, where Louis Martin often fished  Photo credit: Wikipedia

Desiree Toutain was born in the tiny hamlet of Saint-Hippolyte-des-Pres, near Lisieux, on May 27, 1817, the first child of Marc-Frédéric Toutain, 29, of Beuvilliers, a linen worker, and Luce-Victoire-Jacquette, Lepage, widow, 34, of Lisieux, "owner." They are farmers; perhaps the young widow had become the owner of farmland through the death of her first husband.  The extended Toutain family was already well established as textile workers in Beuvillers.  They had kept the faith throughout the French Revolution, and Desiree’s mother had saved the life of a persecuted priest.  In 1821 Desiree’s parents gave her a little brother, Frederick Isidore, who would become the father of one of Therese’s Benedictine schoolteachers, Madame St. Benoit.[5]  Desiree came from a hard-working family; she cannot have had many years of school, for the Carmel’s Chronicle mentions that “Sister Madeleine could barely write.”  When the family faced money troubles, she had to leave her father’s house and go to her brothers in Paris; they hoped to find her a job there.  As soon as she could, she returned to her father’s house, now in Saint-Martin-de-la-Lieue, which had absorbed the small hamlet where she was born.  Like Sister Febronie, who entered four months before her, Desiree had taken Father Sauvage as her spiritual director.  He recognized her vocation.  But, devout as the family was, her father absolutely refused to approve her entering this new monastery, so poor and so austere.  In the end, she ran away from his house just before her 25^th birthday and was received as a postulant by Mother Genevieve, the new prioress, on Pentecost Sunday, May 15, 1842. 

Sister Madeleine of the Blessed Sacrament

Sister Madeleine was made her way with the two other postulants and five novices then in formation.  She received the habit on July 4, 1843 and made profession on July 10, 1844.   Research yields only a little about her 49 years in Carmel.  Unlike Sister Febronie, she did not live quite long enough to celebrate her 50th jubilee, so we can’t deduce anything from any songs written for that occasion.  The foundation’s Chronicle reports that she was as good as gold: 

My Sister Madeleine with her character that was a bit lively made amends with a heart of gold and deep humility. She was so charitable, so good for the sick, not sparing herself when it came to spending the night near them. Such an excellent judgment that even her Prioresses asked for her opinion.[6]

Sister Madeleine as cook: the miracle of the butter

Sister Madeleine served the community as its cook, and the monastery was so poor that she was often hard pressed to feed the nuns.

One day, the cook [Sister Madeleine] came to tell [Mother Genevieve] that the supply of butter was exhausted.  “My child, I haven’t a farthing,” she answered quietly, “but if there is a little butter still left, go on using it, and let us put our trust in God.”  From the moment the prodigy of Elias was repeated, and Sister Madeleine, even more astonished than was the widow of Sarepta at the sight of her inexhaustible pot of flour, came at the end of two months to her Prioress, saying: “Mother, I really can’t understand it; my little piece of butter is always in the same state! What does it mean? I had only enough for two days, and now, however much I use, it never grows less.”  Be at peace,” was the answer, “your little stock is on the point of being finished.”  And, in fact, some days later an alms was given to the Convent and Sister Madeleine found the pot empty.[7]

Click to see a period photo of a corner of the kitchen where Sister Madeleine worked.

Therese’s sister Marie of the Sacred Heart and Sister Madeleine

Therese’s sister Marie of the Sacred Heart, who often helped in the garden, mentions Sister Madeleine twice in letters to her father:

[I am] a very good gardener, whatever Sr. Madeleine says. This evening at recreation, the two of us had such fun (teasing each other). She says I burn my cuttings in the sun. It doesn’t surprise me, for she soaks hers every night in a bucket of cold water to get them to take root, so she finds my method funny.

Well, it was like the story of the two Invalids… do you remember? I said to her: “Sr. Madeleine, I accustom my flowers to hardship, they know me… the strongest survive; my cuttings and I resemble each other, we muddle through, thanks to God.[8]

Again, when Louis had given the monastery one of his frequent gifts of a big catch of fish:

Thank you darling Father! Thank you, thank you! More lovely fish… you lavish us with too many gifts. . . . .

Sr. Madeleine is delighted, she serves us portions worthy of “Mère Fanchon[9]”. It’s really filling! And there are no stocking-sized portions.[10]

Sister Madeleine’s remark: a great grace for Therese

 Therese as a novice, the month before this conversation took place

Sister Madeleine, with a “heart of gold,” looked out especially for the novices, and Pauline reports that, in 1897, Therese recalled a remark Sister Madeleine had made which, juxtaposed with a contrary remark by another lay-sister, impressed Therese deeply and was the occasion of a significant blessing for her.  The conversation took place in February 1889, when Therese was 16.  The “Yellow Notebook” of Sister Agnes of Jesus says that on July 25, 1897 Therese said to Sister Agnes (her sister Pauline):

Listen to this little, very funny story: One day, after I received the Habit, Sister St. Vincent de Paul saw me with Mother Prioress, and she exclaimed: 'Oh! how well she looks! Is this big girl strong! Is she plump!' I left, quite humbled by the compliment, when Sister Magdalene stopped me in front of the kitchen and said: 'But what is becoming of you, poor little Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus! You are fading away before our eyes! If you continue at this pace, with an appearance that makes one tremble, you won't observe the Rule very long!' I couldn't get over hearing, one after the other, two such contrary appraisals. Ever since that moment, I have never attached any importance to the opinion of creatures, and this impression has so developed in me that, at this present time, reproaches and compliments glide over me without leaving the slightest imprint.[11]

“An expression of joy and peace covered the faces” of the dead

As Sister Madeleine was the last sister whom Therese saw in death during the epidemic, let’s look again at Therese’s reaction to the appearance of her sisters after they died:

It was without effort that the dying passed on to a better life, and immediately after their death an expression of joy and peace covered their faces and gave the impression almost that they were only asleep. Surely this was true because, after the image of this world has passed away, they will awaken to enjoy eternally the delights reserved for the Elect.[12]

Seeing this expression three times in six days on the faces of the women with whom she had lived made a deep impression on Therese, then scarcely 19, and confirmed her childhood belief that death was the gateway to eternal joy.  One can hear an echo of what Louis and Zelie often repeated:  “Oh, the Homeland! the Homeland!”

Sister Madeleine’s death circular; the double funeral for her and Sister Febronie on January 8

The funeral Mass for Sister Febronie suddenly became a double funeral for Febronie and Madeleine, who had entered only four months apart in 1842.  The friends of the Carmel were shocked, on arrival, to find two coffins!  By this time almost the whole community was sick in bed.  Only six or seven of the twenty-two surviving nuns were able to attend the funeral, and then at a cost of great effort on their part.  Mother Gonzague, still in the infirmary, wrote the briefest of circulars.

Soul of faith and devotion, We will stop, my Reverend Mother. We are so broken that it would be impossible for us to write of the untiring devotion of this heart, as big as it was generous in the service of God and her mothers and sisters.[13]

I encourage you to visit Sister Madeleine’s circular on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux to read the touching words Madeleine herself left as a farewell to her prioress and her sisters.

Mother Gonzague continued:

Our venerable Mother Geneviève seemed to have wanted to call the three eldest of her daughters! If there is rejoicing in Heaven, there is sadness in Carmel!...

What heartbreak for us to see to see this morning coming out of our dear cloister, these two coffins that ourselves were not able to be around, being detained in the infirmary.[14]

She signed herself “from death’s garden.” 

Click to see the enclosure door, through which the two coffins were carried that morning.

Sister Madeleine of the Blessed Sacrament was the last of the three elders God called during the influenza epidemic.  The sick nuns began to recover slowly.  In Part 7, we will look at Therese’s experience of the Eucharist during the epidemic.

[1] The Carmelites usually did not enter another nun’s cell.

[2] Story of a Soul, 3^rd ed., tr. John Clarke, O.C.D.  Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelite Friars, 1996, p. 171.

[3] Biographie de Soeur Madeleine, Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux at http://www.archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/carmel/index.php/les-bonnes-vieilles/madelein-du-st-sacrement/biographie, accessed 6/7/2020.

[4] Story of a Soul, op. cit., p. 171.

[5] On Tuesday, January 5, after the funeral Mass of Sister Saint-Joseph, Celine Martin wrote to her cousin Jeanne LaNeele:  “There are still two of the three sick ones whom they despair of saving, among them Sister Madeleine, aunt of Madame St. Benoît at the Abbey, and another religious whom I do not know.”  [Celine must have been referring to the most severely ill when she says ‘three,” for 13 sisters were already ill as of December 31].  This letter is on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux at http://archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/celine-martin-soeur-genevieve/2809-de-celine-a-jeanne-la-neele-5-janvier-1892, accessed 6/5/2020.

[6] See the appendix to Sister Madeleine’s obituary circular at http://archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/les-bonnes-vieilles/madelein-du-st-sacrement/circulaire-de-madeleine-du-st-sacrement, accessed 6/9/2020.

[7] The Foundation of the Carmel of Lisieux and the Reverend Mother Genevieve of St.Teresa, tr. by a Religious of the Society of the Holy Child Jesus. Calvados, France: Carmel of Lisieux; London, St. Anselm Society; Philadelphia, Pa., Carmelite Convent, 1913, pp. 88-89.

[8] Letter of Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart to her father, Louis Martin, August 23, 1887 at http://www.archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/aout-1887/5143-de-marie-marie-du-sacre-coeur-a-son-pere-m-martin-23-aout-1887, accessed 6/7/2020.

[9] I believe this is a literary allusion, perhaps to a story they’d read at Les Buissonnets.

[10] Letter of Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart to her father, M. Martin, second half of 1887 at http://www.archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/marie-martin-marie-du-sacree-coeur-msc/5070-de-marie-marie-du-sacre-coeur-a-son-pere-m-martin-deuxieme-semestre-1887, accessed 6/7/2020.

[11] St. Therese of Lisieux: Her Last Conversations, tr. John Clarke, O.C.D. Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelites, Inc., 1977, pp. 111-112.

[12] Story of a Soul, op. cit., p. 172.  Note that, although the Clarke translation writes that the expressions of the dead women gave the impression “almost that they were only asleep,” the French reads “on aurait dit un douce sommeil,” that is, gave the impression of “a sweet sleep” (our italics).

[13] Circular of Sister Madeleine of the Blessed Sacrament, Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux, http://www.archives-carmel-lisieux.fr/english/carmel/index.php/les-bonnes-vieilles/madelein-du-st-sacrement/circulaire-de-madeleine-du-st-sacrement, accessed 6/7/2020.

 [14] Ibid.