The Martyred Carmelites of Compiegne Offered Themselves As A Sacrifice for National Reconciliation

On Saturday, September 13, Pope Leo sent a telegram to the faithful in France, expressing his spiritual closeness to worshippers gathered in Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris who were marking the 2022 canonization of the sixteen Carmelite Sisters now known universally as the Martyrs of Compiegne. In a telegram addressed to Archbishop Laurent Ulrich of Paris and signed on his behalf by Cardinal Secretary of State Pietro Parolin, Pope Leo recalled the heroic witness of the Carmelites who offered their lives as a holocaust to bring about reconciliation to France which had been sundered by revolution and wanton murder of believers. Here follows a reflection by Argentine priest and historian Rev. Dr. Javier Olivera Ravasi: 

The year was 1790. The National Constituent Assembly of the French revolutionary government had issued a decree requiring all religious to swear an oath of loyalty to the State, equating them with public officials, while church property was seized by the government. In the city of Compiègne, some members of the local Directory, which ruled France from 1795 to 1799, appeared on August 4, 1790, at the city's Carmelite monastery to take the inventory and force the nuns to take the corresponding oath. The nuns, initially fearful and feeling pressured, ended up signing the impious act and were forced to shed their religious habits. Dividing into groups, they were ordered to leave the cloister and live in private homes; despite the prohibition, they had resolved to lead a religious life wherever they were assigned, practicing prayer and dedicating themselves to penance as before.
 

Almost two years passed like this, as they lived in family homes but as clandestine nuns. Life was not easy in those times, and they suffered daily from the fear of being discovered. 
 

One day, the Mother Prioress, was able to gather everyone together and, understanding the sisters’ desire, proposed that they perform "an act of consecration by which the community offered itself as a holocaust to appease the wrath of God and to bring peace back to the Church and to France."
 

Among the sisters, the two oldest nuns initially refused the pact, horrified by the idea of ​​death by guillotine, but after prayer and careful reflection, they went to offer themselves as a sacrifice with the rest of their sisters in religion. They would not seek death, but if it came, they would not avoid it, bearing the supreme witness.
 

The regularity and order of their strange lives (which replicated what was possible of the Carmelite schedule in their homes) were noticed by the city's Jacobins, who quickly denounced them before the "Committee of Public Safety" on the charge of being "contrary to the Republic" in 1794. The reign of terror was now official: the king had been executed, and the Revolutionary Tribunal was working tirelessly, sending hundreds of "suspected" citizens to their deaths. The Carmelites' complaint stated that, despite the ban, they continued to live in community and "held suspicious meetings."
 

Maintaining a mere semblance of legality, the homes of the four groups of Carmelites were searched by the revolutionaries, who found "subversive" objects: holy cards, scapulars, and pious books, as well as a portrait of the beheaded king and images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. All this was sufficient to prove their guilt; They were judged "traitors" to the Republic. Once arrested and imprisoned (the former monastery of the Visitation: many convents were converted into jails, stables, or simply demolished), they awaited the final decision.

Every day the danger increased, but they felt stronger. They continued to dedicate themselves to prayer, taking advantage of this new misfortune that now allowed them to be in community as in their former convent.
 

After a few days, the Committee of Public Safety issued orders for their transfer to Paris. Compliance with these orders was enforced in such terms that no delay was admissible. Tied hand and foot, they were loaded onto two carts and, escorted by a group of soldiers, they left for the capital. Their destination was the famous Conciergerie prison, the antechamber to the guillotine. Upon arrival, one of the oldest of the nuns was thrown off the top of the cart. As she fell, she was seriously injured because she could not use her chained hands. She said: "I bear you no grudge; on the contrary, I am grateful that you did not kill me in this fall because, had I died, I would have lost the opportunity to experience the glory and joy of martyrdom."
 

As if nothing had happened, the sisters continued their life of prayer in the Conciergerie prescribed by the rule, undisturbed by events. On July 16, they celebrated the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel with the greatest enthusiasm. As a gift, they received a notice that afternoon to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal the following day. The news did not prevent them from singing, to the music of La Marseillaise, some improvised verses in which they simultaneously expressed their faith in victory.
 

The next day they heard the accusations: "Although separated in different houses, they formed counterrevolutionary cabals," said the accusers. After a brief interrogation and without calling a single witness, the Court sentenced the sixteen Carmelite nuns to death, finding them guilty of organizing "counterrevolutionary meetings," corresponding with "fanatics," and keeping documents that "attacked liberty." One of the nuns, Sister Marie Henriette Enriqueta de la Providence, asked the president of the tribunal what he meant by the word "fanatic"… "It is the attachment to those childish beliefs, their foolish religious practices," he replied. He couldn't be any clearer. 

An hour later, they were driven by cart to the Place de l’Île de la Réunion in Paris. Along the way, the people watched the scene with mixed emotions: some insulted the sisters, others admired them, many remained silent... With great tranquility, the nuns sang hymns as if they were still in the cloister: the Miserere psalm and even the Salve, Regina. Arriving at the foot of the guillotine, they intoned the Te Deum and the Veni Creator. A young novice, Sister Constance, knelt before the prioress, as naturally as she would have done in the convent, and asked for her blessing and permission to die. Then, singing the psalm Laudate Dominum omnes gentes, she resolutely climbed the last steps that would lead her to heaven. One after another, they all repeated the scene; at the end, after having seen all her daughters fall, the mother prioress, with equal generosity, gave her life to the Lord. It was July 17, 1794: a day to never forget the “fraternity” of the Revolution.

Fr. Javier Olivera Ravasi PhD is a parochial vicar in the Archdiocese of San Francisco. A law school graduate of Buenos Aires University, he holds doctorates in philosophy and history. He was ordained to the priesthood in 2008. He is a member of  the Juan Manuel de Rosas Historical Research Institute and co-founder of the Order of Saint Elias, a society of apostolic life that conducts missions to the world and has an apostolate in media and education. he is the founder and director of the website quenotelacuenten.org