Yet with all this, she did not neglect the care of her family as far as it lay in her power, and with the direction and counsel of her good confessor. Two o'clock in the afternoon was the hour appointed by him for her to attend to her household affairs. At that hour she was commanded by him to leave her trance, and then, with the greatest diligence, and with the care of a mother, she directed business matters, dictated letters, and arranged all the necessary temporal concerns with great prudence and good sense.
In the year 1841, she left her father's house, and went, in the beginning of November, to live in the convent of the Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis, where, as one of its members, she received a separate dwelling next the church. Here she enjoyed great repose, for access to her became less easy, as visitors were required to procure permission from the ecclesiastical authorities to see her. Still, pilgrimages did not cease; and the good influence exercised by her increased. Of the deep religious impression produced by her ecstasies, the Bishop of Terni, Monsignor Vincent Tizzani, speaks authoritatively in a pastoral letter published regarding Maria von Mörl in the year 1842. He had seen her, one Friday, in her ecstasy and agony, and he could not repress his tears at beholding the text so literally verified, "I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." His testimony concerning the stigmata and the circumstances of her supernatural state agrees in every particular with that rendered by Görres and Brentano seven years previously. Louis Clarus also, at that time a Protestant, afterward a Catholic, in his studies on mysticism, felt compelled to render this witness concerning her. "The force of truth and reality," says he, writing of his visit to Kaltern, "impressed me so, that I felt necessitated, like the apostle John, to announce what I had heard, my eyes had seen, and my hands touched."
Many others, among them Lord Shrewsbury, attest the same fact, every succeeding witness confirming the testimony of his predecessor. [Footnote 7]
[Footnote 7: Letter from the Earl of Shrewsbury to Ambrose Lisle Phillips, Esq., descriptive of the Estatica of Caldaro and the Addolorata of Capriana. London 1842.]
A whole generation has passed since then, and no one has been able to contradict their statements, or explain the phenomena on any natural principles. For thirty years every one could behold her in ecstasy or agony, and see the wounds plainly on her hands and feet, while she remained ever humble, meek, modest as a child, and intensely pious and holy. Her history could be written in two words: "She suffers, and contemplates." She was a passion-flower clinging to the foot of the cross. In ecstasy she spent her life, contemplating the sufferings of Jesus Christ, praying for all, for the church, and for her native land; doing good to countless poor people, alleviating their sorrows, like the divine Master who dwelt in the recesses of her soul.
Three years before her death she lost her confessor, Father Capistran, who had guided her soul for almost forty years. He was a distinguished theologian, a good priest, and had been judged worthy to be chosen provincial of his order, the Franciscans. He died on the 4th of May, 1865. She mourned his death like a child, and longed more than ever to be dissolved and be with Christ.
Her wish was soon gratified. She became very weak in the autumn of 1867, and the numerous visits she was compelled to receive, as well as the frequent requests made of her, completely prostrated her physical powers. The number of pilgrims to her "Swallows' Nest," as Görres called her abode near the Franciscan church, was extraordinary; men, women, priests, and laity, all came to her shrine.
The measure of her physical suffering was full; but the measure of her mental anguish was not yet complete. On the 8th of September, 1867, she was visited by a severe spiritual trouble. She seemed to be struggling with some power of hell. She became sad, and as if forsaken by God, to such an extent that until September 17th, and for weeks after, consciousness seems to have entirely left her. In this spiritual conflict she saw troops of demons, which surrounded, attacked her, and threatened to carry her off to judgment. She saw and heard the fiends blaspheming all things holy, and trying to bear even the most righteous away to the abyss. She heard the devils scoff at her, and boast that they had the pope in their power; that they had desecrated churches and convents, and made wickedness thrive in the land. These temptations and obsessions lasted from the middle of September to the middle of October, when peace again returned to her soul. From the 23d of October she was able to receive the blessed sacrament regularly; the struggle was over; she had conquered, and was now at rest. When she was afterward interrogated regarding these obsessions, she said that, on the night of the 7th of September, as she was praying for the pope and the emperor, the attack began. It was precisely at this time that the invasion of the pope's temporal possessions by the Garibaldians, sanctioned by the Sardinian government, took place. The French expedition was sent to the pope's relief toward the middle of October, just when Maria's soul obtained rest from demoniacal aggressions; so that her personal affliction seems to have been a participation in the sufferings of the church.
But the light of her life was flickering in the socket. She had a presentiment of her death before it took place, and prophesied often that she would never pass the winter on earth. Toward All Saints' day her weakness became greater, and everything foretold her dissolution. She could no longer bear nourishment. Lemonade or water, with the essence of quinces, was almost her only nourishment for some weeks before her death. When she felt better on certain days, she ate fruit, bread, or porridge, but never meat or meat soup. She sometimes spent several days without eating or drinking. In the last week, especially from Wednesday she suffered great torture. But she was full of resignation; indifferent to life or death, she never repined or murmured. She was patient and full of calm resignation and infantile love. On the feast of the Epiphany, five days before her death, she showed herself in her usual way to the pilgrims; there was a mission at Kaltern, and the missionaries visited her on that festival, to bid her farewell. She received them with bland hospitality, and offered them grapes to eat.
She knew nothing positive about the precise moment of her death, but only that she should die when everything on her became white. The stigmata began gradually to disappear, leaving only a blue spot, which disappeared entirely after her departure. She received the viaticum on January 6th, in the evening. Every one thought she would die immediately; but she made known by gestures that she should not die yet. She remained conscious, and was able to receive holy communion daily.