BLIND AGNESE CECILIA M. CADDELL r BLIND AGNESE OR THE LITTLE SPOUSE OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT BY CECILIA M. CADDELL P. J. KENEDY & SONS 44 BARCLAY STREET, NEW YORK PRINTED IN U. S. A. TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS earth so laden with the sorrows of His hu- manity in heaven, so overflowing with the joys of His Divinity and, in the adorable Sacrament of the Altar, a fountain of joy, and peace, and con- solation, of purity, of love, of gladness, and of grace, to all who seek Him there, this little book, in lowliest reverence, is offered as a tribute of gratitude and love a confession of faith and a reparation (inas- much as may be) for the insults, neglect, ingratitude, and blasphemies heaped upon Him in this mystery of love, both by those who believe it not and those who are cold in their believing. Sweet Mother Mary ! To thy pure heart and hands I confide this offering, hoping thus to make a double reparation to the Son, and to the Mother so often and so deeply wounded in the injurious treatment cast upon the Son. Present it to Him, I pray thee, and give thy maternal benediction to me, and the little ones for whom I write ! Engrave indelibly on their tender hearts the lesson I have sought to trace. Teach them that none are too young to love Jesus, none too little or too low to be loved by Him. Persuade them, as none but thou canst do, sweet Mother, that He, who from out of the Judean crowd did deign to call one little as themselves, and to impart to that young child 3 2134843 " 4 DEDICATION a father's benediction, will likewise give to them His blessing, and lift their hearts to higher thoughts and holier aspirations each time they kneel before Him, in His Eucharistic Presence ; there to offer, through thy pure heart and hands, their tribute of most grateful love, to His Divine and Sacred Heart, in the ever- adorable Sacrament of the Altar ! BLIND AGNESE OS, THE LITTLE SPOUSE OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT CHAPTER I PHE lights were extinguished, the people were gone, the orange and the myrtle, the rose and the jessamine were fading on the floor, and Jesus, who, in the Sacrament of His love, had upon that day pre- sided visibly from His altar-throne over the devotions of His creatures, was once more concealed beneath the veils of the tabernacle, where for more than eighteen centuries His love has held Him captive. It was the Feast of His Most Sacred Heart, which comes to us in the midst of the fervid days of June, as if to remind us of the love with which He burns for us and of the love with which He would have us to burn for Him; and during the sweet service of the evening benediction, the lovers of that most blest devotion had knelt before Him some in joy, and some in sor- row ; some with souls consciously burning in His em- braces; others without any sensible perception of His presence ; but all with the prayer of Jacob upon their lips and in their hearts "I will not let thee go except thou bless me." And He did bless them in that hour ; 5 C BLIND AGNESE He would not be less merciful than His angel, He would not deny the petition which His ministering spirit had been unable to refuse ; 'but high above the altar, in the hands of His priest, amid clouds of in- cense, and dying strains of music, and the tingling of low bells, and falling of fresh flowers, He poured out upon them His parting benediction, such a benedic- tion as He had already breathed upon His disciples when ascending from them into heaven a benedic- tion as full of mercy, as full of love, as full of ma- jesty, as full of power, and falling upon hearts, if not as faithful, at least, it may be said, as full of faith. For in that mighty multitude not one was found to doubt of the reality of His presence among them ; not one who, with beating heart, and bowed down head, and spirit rapt into hushed and voiceless adoration, did not kneel before his Eucharistic Saviour, in the full conviction that His eye was on them, and His heart was with them, and His lips unclosed to speak His blessing, and His hands extended to invoke it on their heads ; and with such a faith as this among them, who shall wonder if, when the service was over, and they once more went forth to their homes, it was with hearts lightened at least of half their cares, filled to overflowing in the consolations showered on them by that presence, made even "as a plentiful field which the Lord hath blest," beneath the gifts and graces imparted in that blessing? They were gone, but not all: one there was who yet knelt before His altar, at- tracted, compelled, chained to it, as it were by the fas- cination of His presence. To that rapt up, bowed down spirit, He was invisible, and yet most visible; BLIND AGNESE 7 He was silent, and yet most eloquently persuasive of His love; and if He were held apart and separated from it by the door of the tabernacle, yet did He draw it to run after Him in the sweet odour of his oint- ments, until love made Him all but tangible to its spiritual embraces. And in whom, do you think, and in what visible form was this spirit of love and devo- tion enshrined ? It was no aged priest, grown gray in the service of the altar, who now knelt at its foot. No cloistered nun, who had identified herself with the Lord of the sanctuary, by a life-long renunciation of His enemy, the world No high prince, descended from his throne, to adore Him with the magi No courtly dame, come hither, like another Magdalen, to lay her beauty, her tresses, and her perfumes at His feet. It was but a poor beggar girl, who, in her in- nocent years, and her tattered rags, and her humble station, seemed an earthly embodiment of His favour- ite virtues. If she were alone, or if the crowd were still around her, she knew it not, for her whole soul was with the silent dweller in the tabernacle, feeding upon His sweetness, who himself doth feed among the lilies ; and yet in that hour a human eye was fixed upon her, and a human mind was speculating about her. Nor was it for her beauty, although the beauty of devotion, the true beauty of the seraph, was beam- ing from her features. Nor was it for her picturesque appearance, although her rags were disposed as only a lazzaroni of Naples knows how to dispose them col- our contrasting colour, and patches of black, and scarlet, and yellow, and rich brown, mingling together just as they would have been mingled by the cunning 8 BLIND AGNESE of a painter. Nor was it for her youth, although she was but a mere child; children as young are, thanks be to God, no rare sight in Italy, kneeling before His altar. The eye was fixed upon her, in wonder how the human form could remain so still the mind was en- gaged in speculation and in question, as to what in- visible influence it was, which could give such deep meaning to that child-like brow, such seraph beauty to those child-like features. "How motionless she is!" thought this second watcher in the temple, "and how very fair. I wonder how long she will remain in that attitude of prayer. Oh, that I were a painter, that I might give her to the world as my vision of an angel. Surely, she must weary soon. I will wait, and speak to her as she is leaving the church." But minute after minute passed away, and she did not seem to weary. The rays of the setting sun streamed full upon her kneeling form, and gave a new richness to her many-coloured costume, and fell with an almost unearthly radiance upon her brow; and no trace of weariness was to be found upon it no change of attitude which might convey the idea of bodily or mental fatigue. It was all repose thought in repose, repose in thought as if body and soul were both re- clining in the arms of one invisibly beside her. And now the watcher herself began to grow impatient twice she arose, as if to rouse the child from her de- votions, and twice she desisted from her purpose, for each time she approached that kneeling figure a kind of awe, for which she could not account, came over her own spirit it seemed so like an irreverent in- BLIND AGNESE 9 trusion upon the communications of the invisible creator with the visible creature. Half in wonder, half in vexation, she retired to her own seat, and as she did so for the second time, she discovered that she was not the only one engaged in a similar scrutiny. A door, which she had not perceived before, was open, and an old man was standing near it, not merely watching the child, but making signal after signal that she should approach him. They were all unheeded, for they were all unseen; and then he advanced into the church, his foot falling without sound among the flowers that carpeted the pavement; but when he reached her side he also paused, as if in doubt whether to disturb or to leave her with her God. It was, how- ever, only the hesitation of a moment; directly after- wards he touched her on the shoulder, whispering something at the same time in her ear, and, apparently in obedience to his summons, the child arose and fol- lowed him to the open door, which closed immediately upon them, greatly, it must be owned, to the disap- pointment of the old lady, who had been an interested witness of the scene. "My poor Agnese," said the old man, with a com- passionate smile, "for a moment I forgot your mis- fortune, and beckoned as though I imagined you could see me." "I knew you would have work for me this even- ing," said the young girl, in a voice which fell like soft music on the ear, it was so plaintive and so sweet, "and so I thought I would wait until you came to call me." "And then forgot the old man, in thought of Him io BLIND AGNESE to whose service the old man would call you," returned her companion, with a smile.