Today April 18

Today is the feast of Cornelia Connelly, not a "venerable," "blessed," or "saint," but a servant of God (as they say) and very possibly a saint nonetheless. Cornelia, an American, was sued in (ecclesiastical) court in England for conjugal rights from her husband Pierce, a Catholic priest and convert from Episcopalianism, and she a nun. She had followed her husband into his newfound Catholic faith, and even though she had her objections, agreed to become a nun when he took orders.

"[What he was proposing] implied, too, a very real deprivation. They could no longer live together. The Church, only in very rare cases gives the permission Pierce sought, admitted two alternatives: that the parties should separate, one becoming a priest and other a nun, or that the man should become a priest and his wife should make a public vow of chastity, continuing, for the sake of their children, to live under the same roof or separately, but not in a convent. The alternatives exist in their own and similar cases in theory only. The practical solution, if propriety is to be observed and scandal avoided, is that both parties should take religious vows."

She had three children: two sons and a daughter. The oldest son was so damaged by the personal weirdness of the somewhat fanatical faith he witnessed (including the separation of his parents) that he left the Faith entirely. Their daughter, though shaken, remained Catholic. The other son, Frank, didn't practice any faith, although if asked, probably would have said he was a Protestant of some sort. Cornelia died not long after the court exonerated her (after an initial unfavorable decision) and her oldest son Mercer died. Her husband had taken them away from her convent of the Holy Child Order she founded. She may not have wanted to become Catholic initially but she sure ran with it later!

Why did Pierce want her back? Because his petition preceded his apostasy and was in large amount responsible for it. He was still a priest; he said he didn't want his "conjugal rights" per se, but that was the only legal avenue he had.

"He had been happily married for too long not to miss it now. He wanted Cornelia to share his enjoyment, to tease and flatter him about his success, to laugh at his jokes in private while she upheld his dignity in public. He wanted to hear and talk about the children, to be comforted in his loneliness. In fact, he wanted a wife."

Pierce, formerly a Protestant minister, was no doubt sincere in his conversion to Catholicism, and no doubt on his reversal as well, at least according to Cornelia's biographer. He had taken his children to Italy as pawns to use against her and it was her realization of that that finally turned her against him, or, more precisely, strengthened her resolve to not only remain a nun but found her own (teaching) order on her own rule.

Even there, though, her domineering, if estranged, husband could not refrain from interfering. Cornelia's rule for the Holy Child nuns: moderate, progressive, kind (no corporal punishment allowed); was substituted by Pierce's rule of his own making, which he took upon himself to mail to Rome. This document was -- and remained -- a monkeywrench in the machinery of the order: getting it started, getting it approved, which ended up taking no less than 10 years.

One of Cornelia's nuns, Mother Maria Buckle, who took the name Joseph (good name) was: "opinionated, critical, and clever. But whereas Emily Bowles [another nun, one who ultimately left the order] suffered from impatience, a strong will, and a tendency to argue every inch of the way, Maria Buckle found herself continually undermined by her own sensitivity. Her generosity and high ideals found difficulty in surviving the self-analysis she subjected them to and the scruples that constantly worried her -- the dreary, frightening ghosts of her subconscious." (Isn't that an evocative description?) But she eventually did get over her demons and became one of Mother Cornelia's Holy Child nuns. She went out to the south of France to Toul to see her in her last days, after not having seen her for many years. Cornelia had changed so. Her hair was gray, her eyes sunken and without their former sparkle. But her humor, wit and great good sense were still there, despite the rather precipitous overturning of her rule by Bishop Danell and the substituting of his own! This new prejudiced and impetuous bishop reversed the work of 10 years in one day, but he was the bishop, after all, and so Cornelia accepted his authority with the equanimity she always had. "That Mother Connelly took all she has gone through as a trial especially sent to her from God, I can fully witness." - Maria Buckle.

And finally, I think we can be forgiven for being especially interested in and affectionate to our own countrywoman. There are so few American saints, comparatively. And when they mention our own country, we pay attention. Now I'm going to take this next line out of context and don't take it literally, but I think it may amuse you. [In a letter to her niece Bella]: "If I were you, I should rouse up from Texas and not get swamped there. Knowledge is power . . ." Okay, okay, she wrote this when she was most discouraged and to someone with whom she could truly let down her hair. Besides, she wanted her niece to avoid the pitfalls of marriage (she was in an unhappy romance) and come be a nun with her.

Cornelia returned to England and died there after a long illness, including rheumatism and galloping eczema (which destroyed her already-ravaged looks). But through it all she maintained her grace, her good humor and her resolve. Almost her last words were: "Doing the will of God is the only happiness and the only thing worth living for." (Her very last words were: "In this flesh I shall see my God.") God's will was the theme -- the very warp and woof of her life. She became a Catholic out of a sense of duty and a nun out of a sense of obedience. She said: "It is a great thing to know God's will and to be ready to do it generously." And THAT is why I think she is a saint.