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Sister Margaret’s Spiritual Confessions: her pre-exorcism diary
The material that appears in this chapter was written by Sister Margaret during the early part of her time at Lierre. It was compiled on separate sheets of paper, in the form of personal statements concerning her spiritual state. The first two extracts are addressed to Margaret of St Teresa (Margaret Downs: 1600/03–82), referred to in one manuscript as ‘Vicaress’ – an office that she held at the convent from 1648, when the nuns moved from Antwerp, until she was formally elected as Superior the following year – and in the other she is ‘Prioress’, providing a post-1649 date for that piece.
The other material in this chapter is addressed to ‘your Reverence’, Sister Margaret’s confessor, Edmund Bedingfield, who annotates one or two of the papers with his own notes, recording that she wrote these pieces after she began to ‘be free with me and prepare herself’. He drew on these sources in his account of the exorcism in 1651, details within which suggest that Sister Margaret began to write for him around January 1649 (see Chapter 2). Probably, then, Sister Margaret compiled these particular papers in the period between late 1648 and the spring of 1651, and while it is difficult to determine the chronology precisely, an approximate ordering is made possible from these references.1
The writing takes the form of a spiritual confession, commonly used by the religious. Teresa de Jesus had also written in this style. In Interior Castle she cautions her nuns about their confessor’s role when they discuss matters that are troubling them: there is likely to be a problem, she claims, ‘with a confessor so scrupulous and inexperienced that he thinks nothing safe: he is afraid of everything, and doubtful about everything, as soon as he sees he is dealing with anything out of the ordinary’ so that
… he attributes the whole thing to melancholy or the devil. The world is so full of melancholy that this certainly does not surprise me; for there is so much abroad just now, and the devil makes so much use of it to work harm, that confessors have very good cause to be afraid of it …2
Teresa de Jesus also describes a situation that was very close to Sister Margaret’s, in which a nun (probably St Teresa herself) is unable to read or pray and is so distracted and tormented in her aridity that her soul feels ‘as if it has never known God and never will know Him … as if to hear [him] spoken of is like hearing of a person from a great distance away’ (1946 ed., II, 273):
If she prays, she might as well not be doing so at all … for interiorly she is incapable of receiving any comfort, nor, even when her prayer is vocal, can she understand what she is saying; while mental prayer at such a time is certainly impossible … Solitude is still worse for her, though it is torture for her to be in anyone’s company … and so, despite all her efforts to conceal the fact, she becomes outwardly upset and despondent … (ibid., 274)
Sister Margaret’s desolation lasted for several years, much longer than the Saint’s, but she echoes many of these sentiments and phrases in her writing, framed very much along the lines of Teresa de Jesus’ own confession:
[This distraction from God] happens to me some days – although not often, and the experience lasts about three, four or five days – [then] it seems to me that all good things, fervour, and visions have been taken away; and even taken from my memory, for I don’t know, although I may want to, what good there has been in me. Everything seems to have been a dream, at least I’m not able to remember anything. All my bodily ills together afflict me. My intellect disturbs me because I cannot think anything about God, nor do I know what state I’m in. If I read, I don’t understand. It seems to me I am full of faults, without any courage for virtue … that I’d be unable to resist the least temptation or criticism from the world. It occurs to me then that I’m good for nothing … (1976, 377– 8)
[L3.35A] 3
… I speak [to Superiors and those I respect most] according to what I know by rote, or hear or read, by which I conceive that they may least find out my incapacity … Afterwards I am much disquieted, fearing I have given occasion that persons may have a better opinion of me …
Can a person carry inordinate affection to anything or another person without knowing it? When no particulars occur, may I be confident there is no thing of this kind whereby I offend God? How I may make use of my time when I am in much dryness and obscurity, tormented by the certain impossibility of ever attaining perfection? Sometimes I am sad and oppressed without knowing any present cause. I have been formerly advised to examine my conscience and if I find no just cause then to be confident that I have no reason; but by this I ever find more hurt than good … At these times it is better to follow my inclinations in being alone …
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[L3.35B] 4
… I do not remember of late that I have been able to recollect my self,5 in prayer or after Communion, for any little time; but that presently I have been either wholly carried away by those ugly thoughts and desires or else by fear of [for] my salvation … I scarce know whether I believe there is a God, and if I do, I think there is no mercy or help for me … I am constantly deprived of all good desire and [am] able to help my self in nothing, but I am wilful in offending God.
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[L3.35C] 6
Before I was religious or had made any such resolution, I was set upon by an extreme fear and apprehension. It seemed to me wherever I was that a spirit haunted me. Since this fear was unusual I was much ashamed it should be perceived by others, yet I dared not be anywhere alone; and when I was in conversation with others who were in a high degree agreeable to my inclination, I would suddenly find myself extremely disgusted without knowing why, unable to comply or conform myself to any thing. I was so far from any thought of being religious that when by chance any of the Fathers or others spoke of the happiness of a religious state, I was accustomed to leave the room, fearing it might move me; neither dared I scarcely read any good book. Finding myself set upon by that extreme fear and disgust, I was walking in the garden with others, much troubled. I wished that I knew any means to make myself happy, and had some thoughts that I should read vain books that would divert me … After this time I had a constant disgust towards worldly vanity … [but] I found myself set upon by fears and apprehensions of a religious life …
… When I reflect on my sins, those for which I have most remorse are the diverse ways and times I have resisted my vocation, both by putting myself in to foul conversation and begging God to withdraw that desire from me. After entering into religion, Almighty God continued to help me in a most particular manner, for though I was extremely dull and unapt to learn the way and form of mental prayer, and had so little wit that I could not help myself by way of discourse, neither could I frame any imaginations belonging to the mystery7 …
… Being once in prayer, greatly affected and even grieving on this account, that I could not effect what I thought … I made recourse to Almighty God, humbling myself before his divine majesty … I received much light and a more clear knowledge than before, and I understood these words, ‘I have established my seat here’ … I was given to understand that I should always endeavour to recollect myself interiorly … I still use this manner of prayer, representing the mystery to my understanding and endeavouring quietly to discourse upon it as in God in whom all things are. I frame no imaginations belonging to the mystery, there being nothing in my power for the most part, but I leave myself in the will of God …
… For the most part of my first year I had great difficulty in exterior things … When the time of my profession drew near, I began to see and reflect that even in religion there were dangers of falling into great miseries … This troubled me extremely, and I could not resolve to speak of it to any within doors, since I knew it was unfit and other were wholly strangers to me. I was mightily set upon by pusillanimous thoughts, and had no contentment in spiritual things, but was concerned that God was much offended with me because I had these fears. One day as I passed by the Blessed Sacrament, desiring Almighty God to help me and likewise some other person who was in much danger to be wrought upon by ill advice, our Blessed Saviour seemed present with me, and let me know he would not forsake me … but that I should tell my Confessor of it, which [I did] though I had much difficulty in it. Having declared my doubt, I received much comfort, and [Our Lord] said there was no danger, my vocation was right …
… The desire to submit myself to all humiliations continues … [but] many times Almighty God leaves me much to my self and then I fall into diverse miseries and temptations … Of late in little indisposition I find myself often impatient, with an earnest desire of health, and I am full of apprehensions that I will never be able to observe my rules. Methinks sometimes that all desires of perfection and other blessings do totally absent themselves from my memory, and I cannot but believe that I have lost the fervour and spirit of my vocation, and that I am out of favour with God. All things that are good seem at those times not to belong to me, neither can I call them to mind. I see that I am full of faults and have no inclination to virtue, and often I have such thoughts of desperation that I am like a lost soul … When it is in excess, the sadness is so great I have much ado not to show it exteriorly, and my life seems tedious to me … I find that the more I examine my conscience on this particular, the more I am filled with a thousand scruples and I cannot distinguish any thing, nor know how to express my self … though of late it lasts not so long, yet it sits most vehemently upon me for that time, and then I conceive all that I do to be ill, and Almighty God’s former graces and lights to be mere fancies of my own, that I must be miserable in this life and the next …
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[L3.35D] 8
Presently, after your Reverence’s departure, I found a total change in my self: all my desires of perfections, lights, inspirations and other blessings of Almighty God did wholly absent themselves from my memory. All things that are good seemed not to belong to me, at least I could not call any such thing to mind … I could not but believe I had lost the spirit of my vocation and was wholly out of the favour and grace of God …
[I experienced] sad apprehensions and fears of falling into sufferings, also of hell and judgement which set upon me with great terror … I was filled with a thousand scruples, I was also much afflicted by temptations against purity … In this I did know least how to behave myself which caused much contrariness of thought that gave me much disturbance and made me lose the peace of mind which formerly I did enjoy, and having no feeling or knowledge of God I was apt to give way to them …
… This continued for the space of almost a year, then Almighty God visited me with some sickness after which time I grew to be more free with my ghostly Father, at least so far that I asked many questions about how a soul was to behave herself in such conditions, but I was not able outside confession to mention anything otherwise. In all this time I found no comfort in anything, nor in any creature, but only in being alone …
… Although the time of prayer passed with much distraction, aridity and dryness, my soul did remain much enabled … Still God gave me much light to see my imperfections, and a clear understanding that I must gain perfection principally by leaving my will and desires in the will of God … I perceived my self extremely inclined to give way to a cold dullness of mind …
… I have often a great fear and apprehension to communicate … After Holy Communion my soul remains quiet and piously affected, accompanied by many good desires and, though afterwards I return to the same indispositions, yet in the superior part I am much strengthened … I cast my eyes upon a Crucifix [as I was thinking how I might clear my thoughts] and it suddenly came to my mind, as though it had been spoken to me, ‘you are not despised, nor crucified as I have been.’ This for the present turned the grief I felt into joy …
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[L3.35E] 9
I still more and more find there will be need of a great deal of courage for me to comply with my obligation towards God if our Lord did not animate and particularly assist me …
… My soul can take no rest till I be wholly untied not only from creatures but from my own desires. I have great apprehension of putting myself into any occasions of conversations or the like which are either agreeable or contrary, and find the effect afterwards troubling and disordering … I find no kind of satisfaction in anything of this world, all serves but to weary and disgust me. Prayer and reading bring me a relief sometimes, but always end in pain. The chief comfort I have, and the most usual, is a deep understanding which is imprinted upon my soul that nothing matters but to suffer … Small occasions easily overwhelm me …
… Sometimes, unaware, without so much as a reflection on Almighty God, even in an instant my soul is stored up and made to know that his Divine Majesty is in her, though not without any light or sensible feeling that I have experienced at other times … I understand that God is then actually within my soul … I still retain a kind of anxious wish to die in case it be according to God’s will & greater glory …
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[L3.35F] 10
… Most commonly when no prayer at all has immediately preceded, there will come certain memories and reflections upon me in an instant, and strike me … that ...