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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus
Christ, by Anna Catherine Emmerich


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Title: The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Author: Anna Catherine Emmerich

Release Date: January 30, 2004 [eBook #10866]
[Date last updated: August 9, 2006]

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOLOROUS PASSION OF OUR LORD
JESUS CHRIST***


The Dolorous Passion of
Our Lord Jesus Christ


From the Meditations of
Anne Catherine Emmerich


Copyright Notice: This ebook was prepared from the 20th edition of
this book, which was published in 1904 by Benziger Brothers in New
York. The copyright for that edition is expired and the text is in the
public domain. This ebook is not copyrighted and is also in the public
domain.

PREFACE TO THE FRENCH TRANSLATION.
BY THE ABBE DE CAZALES.

The writer of this Preface was travelling in Germany, when he
chanced to meet with a book, entitled, The History of the Passion of
our Lord Jesus Christ, from the Meditations of Anne Catherine Emmerich,
which appeared to him both interesting and edifying. Its style was
unpretending, its ideas simple, its tone unassuming, its sentiments
unexaggerated, and its every sentence expressive of the most complete
and entire submission to the Church. Yet, at the same time, it would
have been difficult anywhere to meet with a more touching and lifelike
paraphrase of the Gospel narrative. He thought that a book possessing
such qualities deserved to be known on this side the Rhine, and that
there could be no reason why it should not be valued for its own sake,
independent of the somewhat singular source whence it emanated.

Still, the translator has by no means disguised to himself that this
work is written, in the first place, for Christians; that is to say,
for men who have the right to be very diffident in giving credence to
particulars concerning facts which are articles of faith; and although
he is aware that St. Bonaventure and many others, in their paraphrases
of the Gospel history, have mixed up traditional details with those
given in the sacred text, even these examples have not wholly reassured
him. St. Bonaventure professed only to give a paraphrase, whereas these
revelations appear to be something more. It is certain that the holy
maiden herself gave them no higher title than that of dreams, and that
the transcriber of her narratives treats as blasphemous the idea of
regarding them in any degree as equivalent to a fifth Gospel; still it
is evident that the confessors who exhorted Sister Emmerich to relate
what she saw, the celebrated poet who passed four years near her couch,
eagerly transcribing all he heard her say, and the German Bishops, who
encouraged the publication of his book, considered it as something more
than a paraphrase. Some explanations are needful on this head.

The writings of many Saints introduce us into a new, and, if I may
be allowed the expression, a miraculous world. In all ages there have
been revelations about the past, the present, the future, and even
concerning things absolutely inaccessible to the human intellect. In
the present day men are inclined to regard these revelations as simple
hallucinations, or as caused by a sickly condition of body.

The Church, according to the testimony of her most approved writers,
recognises three descriptions of ecstasy; of which the first is simply
natural, and entirely brought about by certain physical tendencies and
a highly imaginative mind; the second divine or angelic, arising from
intercourse held with the supernatural world; and the third produced by
infernal agency. (See, on this head, the work of Cardinal Bona, De
Discretione Spirituum.) Lest we should here write a book instead of a
preface, we will not enter into any development of this doctrine, which
appears to us highly philosophical, and without which no satisfactory
explanation can be given on the subject of the soul of man and its
various states.

The Church directs certain means to be employed to ascertain by what
spirit these ecstasies are produced, according to the maxim of St.
John: 'Try the spirits, if they be of God.' (1 Jn 4:1). When circumstances
or events claiming to be supernatural have been properly examined
according to certain rules, the Church has in all ages made a selection
from them.

Many persons who have been habitually in a state of ecstasy have
been canonised, and their books approved. But this approbation has
seldom amounted to more than a declaration that these books contained
nothing contrary to faith, and that they were likely to promote a
spirit of piety among the faithful. For the Church is only founded on
the word of Christ and on the revelations made to the Apostles.
Whatever may since have been revealed to certain saints possesses
purely a relative value, the reality of which may even be disputed--it
being one of the admirable characteristics of the Church, that, though
inflexibly one in dogma, she allows entire liberty to the human mind in
all besides. Thus, we may believe private revelations, above all, when
those persons to whom they were made have been raised by the Church to
the rank of Saints publicly honoured, invoked, and venerated; but, even
in these cases, we may, without ceasing to be perfectly orthodox,
dispute their authenticity and divine origin. It is the place of reason
to dispute and to select as it sees best.

With regard to the rule for discerning between the good and the evil
spirit, it is no other, according to all theologians, than that of the
Gospel. A fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos. By their fruits you shall
know them. It must be examined in the first place whether the person
who professes to have revelations mistrusts what passes within himself;
whether he would prefer a more common path; whether far from boasting
of the extraordinary graces which he receives, he seeks to hide them,
and only makes them known through obedience; and, finally, whether he
is continually advancing in humility, mortification, and charity. Next,
the revelations themselves must be very closely examined into; it must
be seen whether there is anything in them contrary to faith; whether
they are conformable to Scripture and Apostolic tradition; and whether
they are related in a headstrong spirit, or in a spirit of entire
submission to the Church.

Whoever reads the life of Anne Catherine Emmerich, and her book,
will be satisfied that no fault can be found in any of these respects
either with herself or with her revelations. Her book resembles in many
points the writings of a great number of saints, and her life also
bears the most striking similitude to theirs. To be convinced of this
fact, we need but study the writings or what is related of Saints
Francis of Assisi, Bernard, Bridget, Hildegard, Catherine of Genoa,
Catherine of Sienna, Ignatius, John of the Cross, Teresa, and an
immense number of other holy persons who are less known. So much being
conceded, it is clear that in considering Sister Emmerich to have been
inspired by God's Holy Spirit, we are not ascribing more merit to her
book than is allowed by the Church to all those of the same class. They
are all edifying, and may serve to promote piety, which is their sole
object. We must not exaggerate their importance by holding as an
absolute fact that they proceed from divine inspiration, a favour so
great that its existence in any particular case should not be credited
save with the utmost circumspection.

With regard, however, to our present publication, it may be urged
that, considering the superior talents of the transcriber of Sister
Emmerich's narrations, the language and expressions which he has made use
of may not always have been identical with those which she employed. We
have no hesitation whatever in allowing the force of this argument.
Most fully do we believe in the entire sincerity of M. Clement
Brentano, because we both know and love him, and, besides, his
exemplary piety and the retired life which he leads, secluded from a
world in which it would depend but on himself to hold the highest
place, are guarantees amply sufficient to satisfy any impartial mind of
his sincerity. A poem such as he might publish, if he only pleased,
would cause him to be ranked at once among the most eminent of the
German poets, whereas the office which he has taken upon himself of
secretary to a poor visionary has brought him nothing but contemptuous
raillery. Nevertheless, we have no intention to assert that in giving
the conversations and discourses of Sister Emmerich that order and
coherency in which they were greatly wanting, and writing them down in
his own way, he may not unwittingly have arranged, explained, and
embellished them. But this would not have the effect of destroying the
originality of the recital, or impugning either the sincerity of the
nun, or that of the writer.

The translator professes to be unable to understand how any man can
write for mere writing's sake, and without considering the probable
effects which his work will produce. This book, such as it is, appears
to him to be at once unusually edifying, and highly poetical. It is
perfectly clear that it has, properly speaking, no literary pretensions
whatever. Neither the uneducated maiden whose visions are here relate,
nor the excellent Christian writer who had published them in so entire
a spirit of literary disinterestedness, ever had the remotest idea of
such a thing. And yet there are not, in our opinion, many highly
worked-up compositions calculated to produce an effect in any degree
comparable to that which will be brought about by the perusal of this
unpretending little work. It is our hope that it will make a strong
impression even upon worldlings, and that in many hearts it will
prepare the way for better ideas,--perhaps even for a lasting change of
life.

In the next place, we are not sorry to call public attention in some
degree to all that class of phenomena which preceded the foundation of
the Church, which has since been perpetuated uninterruptedly, and which
too many Christians are disposed to reject altogether, either through
ignorance and want of reflection, or purely through human respect. This
is a field which has hitherto been but little explored historically,
psychologically, and physiologically; and it would be well if
reflecting minds were to bestow upon it a careful and attentive
investigation. To our Christian readers we must remark that this work
has received the approval of ecclesiastical authorities. It has been
prepared for the press under the superintendence of the two late
Bishops of Ratisbonne, Sailer and Wittman. These names are but little
known in France; but in Germany they are identical with learning,
piety, ardent charity, and a life wholly devoted to the maintenance and
propagation of the Catholic faith. Many French priests have given their
opinion that the translation of a book of this character could not but
tend to nourish piety, without, however, countenancing that weakness of
spirit which is disposed to lend more importance in some respects to
private than to general revelations, and consequently to substitute
matters which we are simply permitted to believe, in the place of those
which are of faith.

We feel convinced that no one will take offence at certain details
given on the subject of the outrages which were suffered by our divine
Lord during the course of his passion. Our readers will remember the
words of the psalmist: 'I am a worm and no man; the reproach of men, and
the outcast of the people;' (Ps 22:6) and those of the Apostle: 'Tempted in
all things like as we are, without sin.' (Heb 4:15). Did we stand in need
of a precedent, we should request our readers to remember how plainly
and crudely Bossuet describes the same scenes in the most eloquent of
his four sermons on the Passion of our Lord. On the other hand, there
have been so many grand platonic or rhetorical sentences in the books
published of late years, concerning that abstract entity; on which the
writers have been pleased to bestow the Christian title of the Word, or
Logos, that it may be eminently useful to show the Man-God, the Word
made flesh, in all the reality of his life on earth, of his
humiliation, and of his sufferings. It must be evident that the cause
of truth, and still more that of edification, will not be the losers.


INTRODUCTION

The following meditations will probably rank high among many similar
works which the contemplative love of Jesus has produced; but it is our
duty here plainly to affirm that they have no pretensions whatever to
be regarded as history.1 They are but intended to take one of the
lowest places among those numerous representations of the Passion which
have been given us by pious writers and artists, and to be considered
at the very utmost as the Lenten meditations of a devout nun, related
in all simplicity, and written down in the plainest and most literal
language, from her own dictation. To these meditations, she herself
never attached more than a mere human value, and never related them
except through obedience, and upon the repeated commands of the
directors of her conscience.

The writer of the following pages was introduced to this holy
religious by Count Leopold de Stolberg. (The Count de Stolberg is one
of the most eminent converts whom the Catholic Church has made from
Protestantism. He died in 1819.) Dean Bernard Overberg, her director
extraordinary, and Bishop Michael Sailer, who had often been her
counsellor and consoler, urged her to relate to us in detail all that
she experienced; and the latter, who survived her, took the deepest
interest in the arrangement and publication of the notes taken down
from her dictation. (The Bishop of Ratisbonne, one of the most
celebrated defenders of the faith in Germany.) These illustrious and
holy men, now dead, and whose memory is blessed, were in continual
communion of prayer with Anne Catherine, whom they loved and respected,
on account of the singular graces with which God had favoured her. The
editor of this book received equal encouragement, and met with no less
sympathy in his labours, from the late Bishop of Ratisbonne, Mgr.
Wittman. (Mgr. Wittman was the worthy successor of Sailer, and a man of
eminent sanctity, whose memory is held in veneration by all the
Catholics of the south of Germany.) This holy Bishop, who was so deeply
versed in the ways of Divine grace, and so well acquainted with its
effects on certain souls, both from his private investigations of the
subject, and his own experience, took the most lively interest in all
that concerned Anne Catherine, and on hearing of the work in which the
editor of this book was engaged, he strongly exhorted him to publish
it. 'These things have not been communicated to you for nothing,' would he
often say; 'God had his views in all. Publish something at least of what
you know, for you will thereby benefit many souls.' He at the same time
brought forward various instances from his own experience and that of
others, showing the benefit which had been derived from the study of
works of a similar character. He delighted in calling such privileged
souls as Anne Catherine the marrow of the bones of the Church,
according to the expression of St. John Chrysostom, medulla enim hujus
mundi sunt, and he encouraged the publication of their lives and
writings as far as lay in his power.

The editor of this book being taken by a kind friend to the dying
bed of the holy Bishop, had no reason whatever to expect to be
recognised, as he had only once in his life conversed with him for a
few minutes; nevertheless the dying saint knew him again, and after a
few most kind words blessed and exhorted him to continue his work for
the glory of God.

Encouraged by the approbation of such men, we therefore yield to the
wishes of many virtuous friends in publishing the Meditations on the
Passion, of this humble religious, to whom God granted the favour of
being at times simple, ingenuous, and ignorant as a child, while at
others she was clear sighted, sensible, possessed of a deep insight
into the most mysterious and hidden things, and consumed with burning
and heroic zeal, but ever forgetful of self, deriving her whole
strength from Jesus alone, and steadfast in the most perfect humility
and entire self-abnegation.

We give our readers a slight sketch of her life, intending at some
future day to publish her biography more in full.


The Life Of Anne Catherine Emmerich,

Religious Of The Order Of St. Augustine,

At The Convent Of Agnetenberg, Dulmen, Westphalia.



Venerable Anne Catherine Emmerich2 was born at Flamske, a village
situated about a mile and a half from Coesfeld, in the bishopric of
Munster, on the 8th of September 1774, and was baptised in the church
of St. James at Coesfeld. Her parents, Bernard Emmerich and Anne
Hiller, were poor peasants, but distinguished for their piety and
virtue.

The childhood of Anne Catherine bore a striking resemblance to that
of the Venerable Anne Garzias de St. Barthelemi, of Dominica del
Paradiso, and of several other holy persons born in the same rank of
life as herself. Her angel-guardian used to appear to her as a child;
and when she was taking care of sheep in the fields, the Good Shepherd
himself, under the form of a young shepherd, would frequently come to
her assistance. From childhood she was accustomed to have divine
knowledge imparted to her in visions of all kinds, and was often
favoured by visits from the Mother of God and Queen of Heaven, who,
under the form of a sweet, lovely, and majestic lady, would bring the
Divine Child to be, as it were, her companion, and would assure her
that she loved and would ever protect her. Many of the saints would
also appear to her, and receive from her hands the garlands of flowers
which she had prepared in honour of their festivals. All these favours
and visions surprised the child less than if an earthly princess and
the lords and ladies of her court had come to visit her. Nor was she,
later in life, more surprised at these celestial visits, for her
innocence caused her to feel far more at her ease with our Divine Lord,
his Blessed Mother and the Saints, than she could ever be with even the
most kind and amiable of her earthly companions. The names of Father,
Mother, Brother, and Spouse, appeared to her expressive of the real
connections subsisting between God and man, since the Eternal word had
been pleased to be born of a woman, and so to become our Brother, and
these sacred titles were not mere words in her mouth.

While yet a child, she used to speak with innocent candour and
simplicity of all that she saw, and her listeners would be filled with
admiration at the histories she would relate from Holy Writ; but their
questions and remarks having sometimes disturbed her peace of mind, she
determined to keep silence on such subjects for the future. In her
innocence of heart, she thought that it was not right to talk of things
of this sort, that other persons never did so, and that her speech
should be only Yea, yea, and Nay, nay, or Praise be to Jesus Christ.
The visions with which she was favoured were so like realities, and
appeared to her so sweet and delightful, that she supposed all
Christian children were favoured with the same; and she concluded that
those who never talked on such subjects were only more discreet and
modest than herself, so she resolved to keep silence also, to be like
them.


Almost from her cradle she possessed the gift of distinguishing what
was good or evil, holy or profane, blessed or accursed, in material as
well as in spiritual things, thus resembling St. Sibyllina of Pavia,
Ida of Louvain, Ursula Benincasa, and some other holy souls. In her
earliest childhood she used to bring out of the fields useful herbs,
which no one had ever before discovered to be good for anything, and
plant them near her father's cottage, or in some spot where she was
accustomed to work and play; while on the other hand she would root up
all poisonous plants, and particularly those ever used for
superstitious practices or in dealings with the devil. Were she by
chance in a place where some great crime had been committed, she would
hastily run away, or begin to pray and do penance. She used also to
perceive by intuition when she was in a consecrated spot, return thanks
to God, and be filled with a sweet feeling of peace. When a priest
passed by with the Blessed Sacrament, even at a great distance from her
home or from the place where she was taking care of her flock, she
would feel a strong attraction in the direction whence he was coming,
run to meet him, and be kneeling in the road, adoring the Blessed
Sacrament, long before he could reach the spot.

She knew when any object was consecrated, and experienced a feeling
of disgust and repugnance when in the neighbourhood of old pagan
cemeteries, whereas she was attracted to the sacred remains of the
saints as steel by the magnet. When relics were shown to her, she knew
what saints they had belonged to, and could give not only accounts of
the minutest and hitherto unknown particulars of their lives, but also
histories of the relics themselves, and of the places where they had
been preserved. During her whole life she had continual intercourse
with the souls in purgatory; and all her actions and prayers were
offered for the relief of their sufferings. She was frequently called
upon to assist them, and even reminded in some miraculous manner, if
she chanced to forget them. Often, while yet very young, she used to be
awakened out of her sleep by bands of suffering souls, and to follow
them on cold winter's nights with bare feet, the whole length of the Way
of the Cross to Coesfeld, though the ground was covered with snow.

From her infancy to the day of her death she was indefatigable in
relieving the sick, and in dressing and curing wounds and ulcers, and
she was accustomed to give to the poor every farthing she possessed. So
tender was her conscience, that the slightest sin she fell into caused
her such pain as to make her ill, and absolution then always restored
her immediately to health.

The extraordinary nature of the favours bestowed on her by Almighty
God was no hindrance in the way of her devoting herself to hard labour,
like any other peasant-girl; and we may also be allowed to observe that
a certain degree of the spirit of prophecy is not unusually to be found
among her country men and women. She was taught in the school of
suffering and mortification, and there learned lessons of perfection.
She allowed herself no more sleep or food than was absolutely
necessary; passed whole hours in prayer every night; and in winter
often knelt out of doors on the snow. She slept on the ground on planks
arranged in the form of a cross. Her food and drink consisted of what
was rejected by others; she always kept the best parts even of that for
the poor and sick, and when she did not know of anyone to give them to,
she offered them to God in a spirit of child-like faith, begging him to
give them to some person who was more in need than herself. When there
was anything to be seen or heard which had no reference to God or
religion, she found some excuse for avoiding the spot to which others
were hastening, or, if there, closed her eyes and ears. She was
accustomed to say that useless actions were sinful, and that when we
denied our bodily senses any gratification of this kind, we were amply
repaid by the progress which we made in the interior life, in the same
manner as pruning renders vines and other fruittrees more productive.
From her early youth, and wherever she went, she had frequent
symbolical visions, which showed her in parables, as it were, the
object of her existence, the means of attaining it, and her future
sufferings, together with the dangers and conflicts which she would
have to go through.

She was in her sixteenth year, when one day, whilst at work in the
fields with her parents and sisters, she heard the bell ringing at the
Convent of the Sisters of the Annunciation, at Coesfeld. This sound so
inflamed her secret desire to become a nun, and had so great an effect
upon her, that she fainted away, and remained ill and weak for a long
time after. When in her eighteenth year she was apprenticed at Coesfeld
to a dressmaker, with whom she passed two years, and then returned to
her parents. She asked to be received at the Convents of the
Augustinians at Borken, of the Trappists at Darfeld, and of the Poor
Clares at Munster; but her poverty, and that of these convents, always
presented an insuperable obstacle to her being received. At the age of
twenty, having saved twenty thalers (about 3l. English), which she had
earned by her sewing, she went with this little sum--a perfect fortune for
a poor peasant-girl--to a pious organist of Coesfeld, whose daughter she
had known when she first lived in the town. Her hope was that, by
learning to play on the organ, she might succeed in obtaining
admittance into a convent. But her irresistible desire to serve the
poor and give them everything she possessed left her no time to learn
music, and before long she had so completely stripped herself of
everything, that her good mother was obliged to bring her bread, milk,
and eggs, for her own wants and those of the poor, with whom she shared
everything. Then her mother said: 'Your desire to leave your father and
myself, and enter a convent, gives us much pain; but you are still my
beloved child, and when I look at your vacant seat at home, and reflect
that you have given away all your savings, so as to be now in want, my
heart is filled with sorrow, and I have now brought you enough to keep
you for some time.' Anne Catherine replied: 'Yes, dear mother, it is true
that I have nothing at all left, because it was the holy will of God
that others should be assisted by me; and since I have given all to
him, he will now take care of me, and bestow his divine assistance upon
us all.' She remained some years at Coesfeld, employed in labour, good
works, and prayer, being always guided by the same inward inspirations.
She was docile and submissive as a child in the hands of her
guardian-angel.

Although in this brief sketch of her life we are obliged to omit
many interesting circumstances, there is one which we must not pass
over in silence. When about twenty-four years of age, she received a
favour from our Lord, which has been granted to many persons devoted in
an especial manner to meditation on his painful Passion; namely, to
experience the actual and visible sufferings of his sacred Head, when
crowned with thorns. The following is the account she herself has given
of the circumstances under which so mysterious a favour was bestowed
upon her: 'About four years previous to my admittance into the convent,
consequently in 1798, it happened that I was in the Jesuits' Church at
Coesfeld, at about twelve o'clock in the day, kneeling before a crucifix
and absorbed in meditation, when all on a sudden I felt a strong but
pleasant heat in my head, and I saw my Divine Spouse, under the form of
a young man clothed with light, come towards me from the altar, where
the Blessed Sacrament was preserved in the tabernacle. In his left hand
he held a crown of flowers, in his right hand a crown of thorns, and he
bade me choose which I would have. I chose the crown of thorns; he
placed it on my head, and I pressed it down with both hands. Then he
disappeared, and I returned to myself, feeling, however, violent pain
around my head. I was obliged to leave the church, which was going to
be closed. One of my companions was kneeling by my side, and as I
thought she might have seen what happened to me, I asked her when we
got home whether there was not a wound on my forehead, and spoke to her
in general terms of my vision, and of the violent pain which had
followed it. She could see nothing outwardly, but was not astonished at
what I told her, because she knew that I was sometimes in an
extraordinary state, without her being able to understand the cause.
The next day my forehead and temples were very much swelled, and I
suffered terribly. This pain and swelling often returned, and sometimes
lasted whole days and nights. I did not remark that there was blood on
my head until my companions told me I had better put on a clean cap,
because mine was covered with red spots. I let them think whatever they
liked about it, only taking care to arrange my head dress so as to hide
the blood which flowed from my head, and I continued to observe the
same precaution even after I entered the convent, where only one person
perceived the blood, and she never betrayed my secret.'

Several other contemplative persons, especially devoted to the
passion of our Lord, have been admitted to the privilege of suffering
the torture inflicted by the crown of thorns, after having seen a
vision in which the two crowns were offered them to choose between, for
instance, among others, St. Catherine of Sienna, and Pasithea of
Crogis, a Poor Clare of the same town, who died in 1617.

The writer of these pages may here be allowed to remark that he
himself has, in full daylight, several times seen blood flow down the
forehead and face, and even beyond the linen wrapped round the neck of
Anne Catherine. Her desire to embrace a religious life was at length
gratified. The parents of a young person whom the Augustinian nuns of
Dulmen wished to receive into their order, declared that they would not
give their consent except on condition that Anne Catherine was taken at
the same time. The nuns yielded their assent, though somewhat
reluctantly, on account of their extreme poverty; and on the 13th
November 1802, one week before the feast of the Presentation of the
Blessed Virgin, Anne Catherine entered on her novitiate. At the present
day vocations are not so severely tested as formerly; but in her case,
Providence imposed special trials, for which, rigorous as they were,
she felt she never could be too grateful. Sufferings or privations,
which a soul, either alone or in union with others, imposes upon
herself, for God's greater glory, are easy to bear; but there is one
cross more nearly resembling the cross of Christ than any other, and
that is, lovingly and patiently to submit to unjust punishment,
rebuffs, or accusations. It was the will of God that during her year's
novitiate she should, independently of the will of any creature, be
tried as severely as the most strict mistress of novices could have
done before any mitigations had been allowed in the rules. She learned
to regard her companions as instruments in the hands of God for her
sanctification; and at a later period of her life many other things
appeared to her in the same light. But as it was necessary that her
fervent soul should be constantly tried in the school of the Cross, God
was pleased that she should remain in it all her life.

In many ways her position in the convent was excessively painful.
Not one of her companions, nor even any priest or doctor, could
understand her case. She had learned, when living among poor peasants,
to hide the wonderful gifts which God had bestowed on her; but the case
was altered now that she was in familiar intercourse with a large
number of nuns, who, though certainly good and pious, were filled with
ever-increasing feelings of curiosity, and even of spiritual jealousy
in her regard. Then, the contracted ideas of the community, and the
complete ignorance of the nuns concerning all those exterior phenomena
by which the interior life manifests itself, gave her much to endure,
the more so, as these phenomena displayed themselves in the most
unusual and astonishing manner. She heard everything that was said
against her, even when the speakers were at on end of the convent and
she at the other, and her heart was most deeply wounded as if by
poisoned arrows. Yet she bore all patiently a lovingly without showing
that she knew what was said of her. More than once charity impelled her
to cast herself at the feet of some nun who was particularly prejudiced
against her, and ask her pardon with tears. Then, she was suspected of
listening at the doors, for the private feelings of dislike entertained
against her became known, no one knew how, and the nuns felt
uncomfortable and uneasy, in spite of themselves, when in her company.

Whenever the rule (the minutest point of which was sacred in her
eyes) was neglected in the slightest degree, she beheld in spirit each
infringement, and at times was inspired to fly to the spot where the
rule was being broken by some infringement of the vow of poverty, or
disregards of the hours of silence, and she would then repeat suitable
passages from the rule, without having ever learned them. She thus
became an object of aversion to all those religious who broke the rule;
and her sudden appearance among them had almost the effect of
apparitions. God had bestowed upon her the gift of tears to so great an
extent, that she often passed whole hours in the church weeping over
the sins and ingratitude of men, the sufferings of the Church, the
imperfections of the community, and her own faults. But these tears of
sublime sorrow could be understood by none but God, before whom she
shed them, and men attributed them to mere caprice, a spirit of
discontent, or some other similar cause. Her confessor had enjoined
that she should receive the holy communion more frequently than the
other nuns, because, so ardently did she hunger after the bread of
angels, that she had been more than once near dying. These heavenly
sentiments awakened feelings of jealousy in her sisters, who sometimes
even accused her of hypocrisy.

The favour which had been shown her in her admittance into the
convent, in spite of her poverty, was also made a subject of reproach.
The thought of being thus an occasion of sin to others was most painful
to her, and she continually besought God to permit her to bear herself
the penalty of this want of charity in her regard. About Christmas, of
the year 1802, she had a very severe illness, which began by a violent
pain about her heart.

This pain did not leave her even when she was cured, and she bore it
in silence until the year 1812, when the mark of a cross was imprinted
exteriorly in the same place, as we shall relate further on. Her
weakness and delicate health caused her to be looked upon more as
burdensome than useful to the community; and this, of course, told
against her in all ways, yet she was never weary of working and serving
the others, nor was she ever so happy as at this period of her life--spent
in privations and sufferings of every description.

On the 13th of November 1803, at the age of twenty-nine, she
pronounced her solemn vows, and became the spouse of Jesus Christ, in
the Convent of Agnetenberg, at Dulmen. 'When I had pronounced my vows,' she
says, 'my relations were again extremely kind to me. My father and my
eldest brother brought me two pieces of cloth. My father, a good, but
stern man, and who had been much averse to my entering the convent, had
told me, when we parted, that he would willingly pay for my burial, but
that he would give nothing for the convent; and he kept his word, for
this piece of cloth was the winding sheet used for my spiritual burial
in the convent.'

'I was not thinking of myself,' she says again, 'I was thinking of nothing
but our Lord and my holy vows. My companions could not understand me;
nor could I explain my state to them. God concealed from them many of
the favours which he bestowed upon me, otherwise they would have had
very false ideas concerning me. Notwithstanding all my trials and
sufferings, I was never more rich interiorly, and my soul was perfectly
flooded with happiness. My cell only contained one chair without a
seat, and another without a back; yet in my eyes, it was magnificently
furnished, and when there I often thought myself in Heaven. Frequently
during the night, impelled by love and by the mercy of God, I poured
forth the feelings of my soul by conversing with him on loving and
familiar language, as I had always done from my childhood, and then
those who were watching me would accuse me of irreverence and
disrespect towards God. Once, I happened to say that it appeared to me
that I should be guilty of greater disrespect did I receive the Body of
our Lord without having conversed familiarly with him, and I was
severely reprimanded. Amid all these trials, I yet lived in peace with
God and with all his creatures. When I was working in the garden, the
birds would come and rest on my head and shoulders, and we would
together sing the praises of God. I always beheld my angel-guardian at
my side, and although the devil used frequently to assault and terrify
me in various ways, he was never permitted to do me much harm. My
desire for the Blessed Sacrament was so irresistible, that often at
night I left my cell and went to the church, if it was open; but if
not, I remained at the door or by the walls, even in winter, kneeling
or prostrate, with my arms extended in ecstasy. The convent chaplain,
who was so charitable as to come early to give me the Holy Communion,
used to find me in this state, but as soon as he was come and had
opened the church, I always recovered, and hastened to the holy table,
there to receive my Lord and my God. When I was sacristan, I used all
on a sudden to feel myself ravished in spirit, and ascend to the
highest parts of the church, on to cornices, projecting parts of the
building, and mouldings, where it seemed impossible for any being to
get by human means. Then I cleaned and arranged everything, and it
appeared to me that I was surrounded by blessed spirits, who
transported me about and held me up in their hands. Their presence did
not cause me the least uneasiness, for I had been accustomed to it from
my childhood, and I used to have the most sweet and familiar
intercourse with them. It was only when I was in the company of certain
men that I was really alone; and so great was then my feeling of
loneliness that I could not help crying like a child that has strayed
from home.'

We now proceed to her illnesses, omitting any description of some
other remarkable phenomena of her ecstatic life, only recommending the
reader to compare the accounts we have already given with what is
related of St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi.

Anne Catherine had always been weak and delicate, and yet had been,
from her earliest childhood, in the habit of practising many
mortifications, of fasting and of passing the night in watching and
prayer in the open air. She had been accustomed to continue hard labour
in the fields, at all seasons of the year, and her strength was also
necessarily much tried by the exhausting and supernatural states
through which she so frequently passed. At the convent she continued to
work in the garden and in the house, whilst her spiritual labours and
sufferings were ever on the increase, so that it is by no means
surprising that she was frequently ill; but her illnesses arose from
yet another cause. We have learned, from careful observations made
every day for the space of four years, and also from what she herself
was unwillingly forced to admit, that during the whole course of her
life, and especially during that part of it which she spent at the
convent, when she enjoyed the highest spiritual favours, a great
portion of her illnesses and sufferings came from taking upon herself
the sufferings of others. Sometimes she asked for the illness of a
person who did not bear it patiently, and relieved him of the whole or
of a part of his sufferings, by taking them upon herself; sometimes,
wishing to expiate a sin or put an end to some suffering, she gave
herself up into the hands of God, and he, accepting her sacrifice,
permitted her thus, in union with the merits of his passion, to expiate
the sin by suffering some illness corresponding to it. She had
consequently to bear, not only her own maladies, but those also of
others--to suffer in expiation of the sins of her brethren, and of the
faults and negligences of certain portions of the Christian
community--and, finally, to endure many and various sufferings in
satisfaction for the souls of purgatory. All these sufferings appeared
like real illnesses, which took the most opposite and variable forms,
and she was placed entirely under the care of the doctor, who
endeavoured by earthly remedies to cure illnesses which in reality were
the very sources of her life. She said on this subject--'Repose in suffering
has always appeared to me the most desirable condition possible. The
angels themselves would envy us, were envy not an imperfection. But for
sufferings to bear really meritorious we must patiently and gratefully
accept unsuitable remedies and comforts, and all other additional
trials. I did not myself fully understand my state, nor know what it
was to lead to. In my soul I accepted my different sufferings, but in
my body it was my duty to strive against them. I had given myself
wholly and entirely to my Heavenly Spouse, and his holy will was being
accomplished in me; but I was living on earth, where I was not to rebel
against earthly wisdom and earthly prescriptions. Even had I fully
comprehended my state, and had both time and power to explain it, there
was no one near who would have been able to understand me. A doctor
would simply have concluded that I was entirely mad, and would have
increased his expensive and painful remedies tenfold. I have suffered
much in this way during the whole of my life, and particularly when I
was at the convent, from having unsuitable remedies administered to me.
Often, when my doctors and nurses had reduced me to the last agony, and
that I was near death, God took pity on me, and sent me some
supernatural assistance, which effected an entire cure.'

Four years before the suppression of her convent she went to Flamske
for two days to visit her parents. Whilst there she went once to kneel
and pray for some hours before the miraculous Cross of the Church of
St. Lambert, at Coesfeld. She besought the Almighty to bestow the gifts
of peace and unity upon her convent, offered him the Passion of Jesus
Christ for that intention, and implored him to allow her to feel a
portion of the sufferings which were endured by her Divine Spouse on
the Cross. From the time that she made this prayer her hands and feet
became burning and painful, and she suffered constantly from fever,
which she believed was the cause of the pain in her hands and feet, for
she did not dare to think that her prayer had been granted. Often she
was unable to walk, and the pain in her hands prevented her from
working as usual in the garden. On the 3rd December 1811, the convent
was suppressed, and the church closed. (Under the Government of Jerome
Bonaparte, King of Westphalia.) The nuns dispersed in all directions,
but Anne Catherine remained, poor and ill. A kindhearted servant
belonging to the monastery attended upon her out of charity, and an
aged emigrant priest, who said Mass in the convent, remained also with
her. These three individuals, being the poorest of the Community, did
not leave the convent until the spring of 1812. She was still very
unwell, and could not be moved without great difficulty. The priest
lodged with a poor widow who lived in the neighbourhood, and Anne
Catherine had in the same house a wretched little room on the
ground-floor, which looked on the street. There she lived, in poverty
and sickness, until the autumn of 1813. Her ecstasies in prayer, and
her spiritual intercourse with the invisible world, became more and
more frequent. She was about to be called to a state with which she was
herself but imperfectly acquainted, and in order to enter which she did
nothing but submissively abandon herself to the will of God. Our Lord
was pleased about this time to imprint upon her virginal body the
stigmas of his cross and of his crucifixion, which were to the Jews a
stumbling-block, and to the Gentiles folly, and to many persons who
call themselves Christians, both the one and the other. From her very
earliest childhood she had besought our Lord to impress the marks of
his cross deeply upon her heart, that so she might never forget his
infinite love for men; but she had never thought of receiving any
outward marks. Rejected by the world, she prayed more fervently than
ever for this end. On the 28th of August, the feast of St. Augustine,
the patron of her order, as she was making this prayer in bed, ravished
in ecstasy and her arms stretched forth, she beheld a young man
approach her surrounded with light. It was under this form that her
Divine Spouse usually appeared to her, and he now made upon her body
with his right hand the mark of a common cross. From this time there
was a mark like a cross upon her bosom, consisting of two bands
crossed, about three inches long and one wide. Later the skin often
rose in blisters on this place, as if from a burn, and when these
blisters burst a burning colourless liquid issued from them, sometimes
in such quantities as to soak through several sheets. She was long
without perceiving what the case really was, and only thought that she
was in a strong perspiration. The particular meaning of this mark has
never been known.

Some weeks later, when making the same prayer, she fell into an
ecstasy, and beheld the same apparition, which presented her with a
little cross of the shape described in her accounts of the Passion. She
eagerly received and fervently pressed it to her bosom, and then
returned it. She said that this cross was as soft and white as wax, but
she was not at first aware that it had made an external mark upon her
bosom. A short time after, having gone with her landlady's little girl to
visit an old hermitage near Dulmen, she all on a sudden fell into an
ecstasy, fainted away, and on her recovery was taken home by a poor
peasant woman. The sharp pain which she felt in her chest continued to
increase, and she saw that there was what looked like a cross, about
three inches in length, pressed tightly upon her breast-bone, and
looking red through the skin. As she had spoken about her vision to a
nun with whom she was intimate, her extraordinary state began to be a
good deal talked of. On All Souls' day, 1812, she went out for the last
time, and with much difficulty succeeded in reaching the church. From
that time till the end of the year she seemed to be dying, and received
the last Sacraments. At Christmas a smaller cross appeared on the top
of that upon her chest. It was the same shape as the larger one, so
that the two together formed a double forked cross. Blood flowed from
this cross every Wednesday, so as to leave the impression of its shape
on paper laid over it. After a time this happened on Fridays instead.
In 1814 this flow of blood took place less frequently, but the cross
became as red as fire every Friday. At a later period of her life more
blood flowed from this cross, especially every Good Friday; but no
attention was paid to it. On the 30th March 1821, the writer of these
pages saw this cross of a deep red colour, and bleeding all over. In
its usual state it was colourless, and its position only marked by
slight cracks in the skin... Other Ecstaticas have received similar marks
of the Cross; among others, Catherine of Raconis, Marina de l' Escobar,
Emilia Bichieri, S. Juliani Falconieri, etc.

She received the stigmas on the last days of the year 1812. On the
29th December, about three o'clock in the afternoon, she was lying on her
bed in her little room, extremely ill, but in a state of ecstasy and
with her arms extended, meditating on the sufferings of her Lord, and
beseeching him to allow her to suffer with him. She said five Our
Fathers in honour of the Five Wounds, and felt her whole heart burning
with love. She then saw a light descending towards her, and
distinguished in the midst of it the resplendent form of her crucified
Saviour, whose wounds shone like so many furnaces of light. Her heart
was overflowing with joy and sorrow, and, at the sight of the sacred
wounds, her desire to suffer with her Lord became intensely violent.
Then triple rays, pointed like arrows, of the colour of blood, darted
forth from the hands, feet, and side of the sacred apparition, and
struck her hands, feet, and right side. The triple rays from the side
formed a point like the head of a lance. The moment these rays touched
her, drops of blood flowed from the wounds which they made. Long did
she remain in a state of insensibility, and when she recovered her
senses she did not know who had lowered her outstretched arms. It was
with astonishment that she beheld blood flowing from the palms of her
hands, and felt violent pain in her feet and side. It happened that her
landlady's little daughter came into her room, saw her hands bleeding,
and ran to tell her mother, who with great anxiety asked Anne Catherine
what had happened, but was begged by her not to speak about it. She
felt, after having received the stigmas, that an entire change had
taken place in her body; for the course of her blood seemed to have
changed, and to flow rapidly towards the stigmas. She herself used to
say: 'No words can describe in what manner it flows.'

We are indebted to a curious incident for our knowledge of the
circumstances which we have here related. On the 15th December 1819,
she had a detailed vision of all that had happened to herself, but so
that she thought it concerned some other nun who she imagined must be
living not far off, and who she supposed had experienced the same
things as herself. She related all these details with a very strong
feeling of compassion, humbling herself, without knowing it, before her
own patience and sufferings. It was most touching to hear her say: 'I
ought never to complain anymore, now that I have seen the sufferings of
that poor nun; her heart is surrounded with a crown of thorns, but she
bears it placidly and with a smiling countenance. It is shameful indeed
for me to complain, for she had a far heavier burden to bear than I
have.'

These visions, which she afterwards recognised to be her own
history, were several times repeated, and it is from them that the
circumstances under which she received the stigmas became known.
Otherwise she would not have related so many particulars about what her
humility never permitted her to speak of, and concerning which, when
asked by her spiritual superiors whence her wounds proceeded, the
utmost she said was: 'I hope that they come from the hand of God.'

The limits of this work preclude us from entering upon the subject
of stigmas in general, but we may observe that the Catholic Church has
produced a certain number of persons, St. Francis of Assisi being the
first, who have attained to that degree of contemplative love of Jesus
which is the most sublime effect of union with his sufferings, and is
designated by theologians, Vulnus divinum, Plago amoris viva. There are
known to have been at least fifty. Veronica Giuliani, a Capuchiness,
who died at Citta di Castello in 1727, is the last individual of the
class who has been canonised (on the 26th May 1831). Her biography,
published at Cologne in 1810, gives a description of the state of
persons with stigmas, which in many ways is applicable to Anne
Catherine. Colomba Schanolt, who died at Bamberg in 1787, Magdalen
Lorger, who died at Hadamar in 1806, both Dominicanesses, and Rose
Serra, a Capuchiness at Ozieri in Sardinia, who received the stigmas in
1801, are those of our own times of whom we know the most. Josephine
Kumi, of the Convent of Wesen, near Lake Wallenstadt in Switzerland,
who was still living in 1815, also belonged to this class of persons,
but we are not entirely certain whether she had the stigmas. 3

Anne Catherine being, as we have said, no longer able to walk or
rise from her bed, soon became unable also to eat. Before long she
could take nothing but a little wine and water, and finally only pure
water; sometimes, but very rarely, she managed to swallow the juice of
a cherry or a plum, but she immediately vomited any solid food, taken
in ever so small a quantity. This inability to take food, or rather
this faculty of living for a great length of time upon nothing but
water, we are assured by learned doctors is not quite unexampled in the
history of the sick.

Theologians will be perfectly aware that here are many instances of
contemplative ascetics, and particularly of persons frequently in a
state of ecstasy and who have received the stigmas, remaining long
without taking any other food than the Blessed Sacrament; for instance,
St. Nicholas of Flue, St. Liduvina of Schiedam, St. Catherine of
Sienna, St. Angela of Foligno, and St. Louise de l'Ascension. All the
phenomena exhibited in the person of Anne Catherine remained concealed
even from those who had the most intercourse with her, until the 25th
February 1812, when they were discovered accidentally by one of her old
convent companions. By the end of March, the whole town talked of them.
On the 23rd of March, the physician of the neighbourhood forced her to
undergo an examination. Contrary to his expectation, he was convinced
of the truth, drew up an official report of what he had seen, became
her doctor and her friend, and remained such to her death. On the 28th
of March, commissioners were appointed to examine into her case by the
spiritual authorities of Munster. The consequence of this was that Anne
Catherine was henceforth looked upon kindly by her superiors, and
acquired the friendship of the late Dean Overberg, who from that time
paid her every year a visit of several days' duration, and was her
consoler and spiritual director. The medical counsellor from Druffel,
who was present at this examination in the capacity of doctor, never
ceased to venerate her. In 1814, he published in the Medical Journal of
Salzbourg a detailed account of the phenomena which he had remarked in
the person of Anne Catherine, and to this we refer those of our readers
who desire more particulars upon the subject. On the 4th of April, M.
Garnier, the Commissary-General of the French police, came from Munster
to see her; he inquired minutely into her case, and having learned that
she neither prophesied nor spoke on politics, declared that there was
no occasion for the police to occupy themselves about her. In 1826, he
still spoke of her at Paris with respect and emotion.

On the 22nd of July 1813, Overberg came to see her, with Count de
Stolberg and his family. They remained two days with her, and Stolberg,
in a letter which has been several times printed, bore witness to the
reality of the phenomena observed in Anne Catherine, and gave
expression to his intense veneration for her. He remained her friend as
long as he lived, and the members of his family never ceased
recommending themselves to her prayers. On the 29th of September 1813,
Overberg took the daughter of the Princess Galitzin (who died in 1806)
to visit her, and they saw with their own eyes blood flow copiously
from her stigmas. This distinguished lady repeated her visit, and,
after becoming Princess of Salm, never varied in her sentiments, but,
together with her family, remained in constant communion of prayer with
Anne Catherine. Many other persons in all ranks of life were, in like
manner, consoled and edified by visiting her bed of suffering. On the
23rd of October 1813, she was carried to another lodging, the window of
which looked out upon a garden. The condition of the saintly nun became
day by day more painful. Her stigmas were a source of indescribable
suffering to her, down to the moment of her death. Instead of allowing
her thoughts to dwell upon those graces to the interior presence of
which they bore such miraculous outward testimony, she learned from
them lessons of humility, by considering them as a heavy cross laid
upon her for her sins. Her suffering body itself was to preach Jesus
crucified. It was difficult indeed to be an enigma to all persons, an
object of suspicion to the greatest number, and of respect mingled with
fear to some few, without yielding to sentiments of impatience,
irritability, or pride. Willingly would she have lived in entire
seclusion from the world, but obedience soon compelled her to allow
herself to be examined and to have judgment passed upon her by a vast
number of curious persons. Suffering, as she was, the most excruciating
pains, she was not even allowed to be her own mistress, but was
regarded as something which everyone fancied he had a right to look at
and to pass judgment upon,--often with no good results to anyone, but
greatly to the prejudice of her soul and body, because she was thus
deprived of so much rest and recollection of spirit. There seemed to be
no bounds to what was expected of her, and one fat man, who had some
difficulty in ascending her narrow winding staircase, was heard to
complain that a person like Anne Catherine, who ought to be exposed on
the public road, where everyone could see her, should remained in a
lodging so difficult to reach. In former ages, persons in her state
underwent in private the examination of the spiritual authorities, and
carried out their painful vocation beneath the protecting shadow of
hallowed walls; but our suffering heroine had been cast forth from the
cloister into the world at a time when pride, coldness of heart, and
incredulity were all the vogue; marked with the stigmas of the Passion
of Christ, she was forced to wear her bloody robe in public, under the
eyes of men who scarce believed in the Wounds of Christ, far less in
those which were but their images.

Thus this holy woman, who in her youth had been in the habit of
praying for long hours before pictures of all the stages of Christ's
painful Passion, or before wayside crosses, was herself made like unto
a cross on the public road, insulted by one passer by, bathed in warm
tears of repentance by a second, regarded as a mere physical curiosity
by a third, and venerated by a fourth, whose innocent hands would bring
flowers to lay at her feet.

In 1817 her aged mother came from the country to die by her side.
Anne Catherine showed her all the love she could by comforting and
praying for her, and closing her eyes with her own hands--those hands
marked with the stigmas on the 13th of March of the same year. The
inheritance left to Anne Catherine by her mother was more than
sufficient for one so imbued with the spirit of mortification and
sufferings; and in her turn she left it unimpaired to her friends. It
consisted of these three sayings:--'Lord, thy will, not mine, be done; '
'Lord, give me patience, and then strike hard;' 'Those things which are not
good to put in the pot are at least good to put beneath it.' The meaning
of this last proverb was: If things are not fit to be eaten, they may
at least be burned, in order that food may be cooked; this suffering
does not nourish my heart, but by bearing it patiently, I may at least
increase the fire of divine love, by which alone life can profit us
anything. She often repeated these proverbs, and then thought of her
mother with gratitude. Her father had died some little time before.

The writer of these pages became acquainted with her state first
through reading a copy of that letter of Stolberg, to which we have
already alluded, and afterwards through conversation with a friend who
had passed several weeks with her. In September 1818 he was invited by
Bishop Sailer to meet him at the Count de Stolberg's, in Westphalia; and
he went in the first place to Sondermuhlen to see the count, who
introduced him to Overberg, from whom he received a letter addressed to
Anne Catherine's doctor. He paid her his first visit on the 17th of
September 1818; and she allowed him to pass several hours by her side
each day, until the arrival of Sailer. From the very beginning, she
gave him her confidence to a remarkable extent, and this in the most
touching and ingenuous manner. No doubt she was conscious that by
relating without reserve the history of all the trials, joys, and
sorrows of her whole life, she was bestowing a most precious spiritual
alms upon him. She treated him with the most generous hospitality, and
had no hesitation in doing so, because he did not oppress her and alarm
her humility by excessive admiration. She laid open her interior to him
in the same charitable spirit as a pious solitary would in the morning
offer the flowers and fruit which had grown in his garden during the
night to some way-worn traveller, who, having lost his road in the
desert of the world, finds him sitting near his hermitage. Wholly
devoted to her God, she spoke in this open manner as a child would have
done, unsuspectingly, with no feelings of mistrust, and with no selfish
end in view. May God reward her!

Her friend daily wrote down all the observations that he made
concerning her, and all that she told him about her life, whether
interior or exterior. Her words were characterised alternately by the
most childlike simplicity and the most astonishing depth of thought,
and they foreshadowed, as it were, the vast and sublime spectacle which
later was unfolded, when it became evident that the past, the present,
and the future, together with all that pertained to the sanctification,
profanation, and judgment of souls, formed before and within her an
allegorical and historical drama, for which the different events of the
ecclesiastical year furnished subjects, and which it divided into
scenes, so closely linked together were all the prayers and sufferings
which she offered in sacrifice for the Church militant.

On the 22nd of October 1818 Sailer came to see her, and having
remarked that she was lodging at the back of a public house, and that
men were playing at nine-pins under her window, said in the playful yet
thoughtful manner which was peculiar to him: 'See, see; all things are as
they should be--the invalid nun, the spouse of our Lord, is lodging in a
publichouse above the ground where men are playing at nine-pins, like
the soul of man in his body.' His interview with Anne Catherine was most
affecting; it was indeed beautiful to behold these two souls, who were
both on fire with the love of Jesus, and conducted by grace through
such different paths, meet thus at the foot of the Cross, the visible
stamp of which was borne by one of them. On Friday, the 23rd of
October, Sailer remained alone with her during nearly the whole of the
day; he saw blood flow from her head, her hands, and her feet, and he
was able to bestow upon her great consolation in her interior trials.
He most earnestly recommended her to tell everything without reserve to
the writer of these pages, and he came to an understanding upon the
subject with her ordinary director. He heard her confession, gave her
the Holy Communion on Saturday, the 24th, and then continued his
journey to the Count de Stolberg's. On his return, at the beginning of
November, he again passed a day with her. He remained her friend until
death, prayed constantly for her, and asked her prayers whenever he
found himself in trying of difficult positions. The writer of these
pages remained until January. He returned in May 1819, and continued to
watch Anne Catherine almost uninterruptedly until her death.

The saintly maiden continually besought the Almighty to remove the
exterior stigmas, on account of the trouble and fatigue which they
occasioned, and her prayer was granted at the end of seven years.
Towards the conclusion of the year 1819, the blood first flowed less
frequently from her wounds, and then ceased altogether. On the 25th of
December, scabs fell from her feet and hands, and there only remained
white scars, which became red on certain days, but the pain she
suffered was undiminished in the slightest degree. The mark of the
cross, and the wound on her right side, were often to be seen as
before, but not at any stated times. On certain days she always had the
most painful sensations around her head, as thoug