Maria Tullio’s Story

By Sr. M. Vivian Miller
Illustrated by Sr. Austin Harrison, (Columbia)

My dear people, may I have your attention, please?
Thank you.
Oh dear, now that you’re all listening,
I almost wish you weren’t.  
I’m scared, I’ve never done this before.
Do you hear my knees knocking
or my teeth chattering?
Please try to ignore it.
Well, anyway, here you are—and here I am…
so let’s get started.
I have been asked to tell you about my
very best friend:
Maria De Mattias,
and there’s so much to tell.

I’ve been with Maria,
most of my life.
I was born in 1813.
After my dad died,
my mother had a hard time supporting
all of us little ones.
I was hired into the De Mattias home
to help in the kitchen.
I think that was back in 1822 or so.
After a few years,
they noticed our house was terribly crowded
so Mr. and Mrs. De Mattias invited me
to live in their home.
Then when my mother died in 1831
I was sort of unofficially adopted
into the family.

I felt it a real honor to help
in the DeMattias home.
Mr. was terribly important: a lawyer
and for a time,
the mayor of the town.
But at home,
he was so very kind and gentle.
Mrs. was an elegant lady,
and managed her household like a queen.
She kept her family dressed properly
and stylishly…
(and she kept my clothes neat and clean, too.)
But she wanted the girls to act like ladies
---all the time…
and sometimes that was hard on Maria
who was so vivacious.
I was sorry when Mamma Ottavia scolded Maria;
but she scolded Antonia too,
and sometimes even Michael.
Vincenza, the oldest girl,
was just like her mother.

I hear that the De Mattias family
had six other children who died
when they were babies.

I guess that is why there was a space
of 11 years between Vincenza and Maria.
Vincenza spent most of her time helping her mother
and didn’t have time for her little sister.
The two younger boys…well,
they were typical boys
and they didn’t want Maria tagging
along either.

Dad Giovanni was concerned for
his young daughter and wanted
someone to grow-up with her…
share in her fun,
accompany her to town and such.
That’s how I became more of a personal maid to Maria
than a help in the kitchen.

Maria didn’t treat me like a maid though…
more like a little sister.
We had fun together.
She was eight years older than I was…
She was prettier too….and smarter.

I loved to comb her hair,
and pile the curls up
into all kinds of fancy hairdos.
I loved her clothes, and liked to lay out
her pretty dresses for our outings.
She wore jewelry too, when we went out
for walks in town, or to church.
Everyone talked about the young pretty
De Mattias girl,
and wagered bets on which boy would be the lucky one to win her hand.



Maria was confirmed when she was 13;
and the next year she made her
general confession
and received Jesus for the first time.
She often went to church, but
she scrupled about receiving Jesus frequently.
I guess she noticed how sad I was
because no one had prepared me
for these sacraments.
One day she called me,
and some other girls in the neighborhood
and began teaching us the catechism,
and telling us lovely Bible stories.
You should have seen the party she
prepared for us on our great day.
The priest then asked Maria to continue
preparing young folks for the sacraments…
so that is what she did. 

I remember the first year I lived
with the De Mattias family--
I was about 9, so Maria was 17,
Vallecorsa had a mission.
My, how we prayed.
Those missionaries had us in church
most of the day,
and again in the evening.
Everyone went—even Tony and Michael.
The main missionary was a holy man
called DON GASPAR DEL BUFALO.
Maria really took everything serious.
She talked to me a lot about wishing
women could become missionaries too.
I had all kinds of dreams at night,
of me and Maria going all over Italy
telling the people about God.
Little did I dream that all of this
would one day come true.

There was a time after the mission
when Maria really seemed confused.
She liked parties, dances and the such…
and I got to go with her,
most of the time.
It was fun.
But sometimes she would go to her room
and stay there all day praying
and sometimes crying.
We went to church a lot--
not just for Mass,
but for extra visits.
Maria loved Our Lady much,
and used to talk to her a lot in her room.
She had this pretty picture on the wall.
Our Lady seemed to tell Maria a lot too--
about the future…
(and would you believe it)
she even taught her how to read!
I was glad about this,
because from then on,
Maria read a lot to me.

I remember once during May devotions,
Maria prepared for confession
and then slipped into the box.
When she came out, I saw
something was wrong.
Instead of going to her pew,
she genuflected and dashed
out of church.
I looked over at mother
and Vincenza,
but they didn’t notice anything.
I prayed their contemplation
would hold out until
Maria came back.
But….When she did,
she was wearing her old Saturday
dress and she had
cut off her hair!
Why she looked like a plain
ordinary girl…like me!
I didn’t hear a word the missionary
said in the homily.
I kept thinking of the scolding
Maria would get when we got home.

Now Maria’s life really changed
and Mother De Mattias didn’t like it
one bit!
Maria refused to wear her pretty
clothes and jewelry any more.
And her lair took a long time to
grow enough,
so it could be properly trimmed.
Once she even wore her dress
in-side-out,
and even I was embarrassed
to walk with her.
I’ll bet some people thought
she was out of her mind.
I had another problem
when Maria slipped out of the house
without me.
Mother De Mattias schooled her and me.
Ounce I couldn’t accompany her
even if I wanted to!
She was wearing my only pair of shoes
and they were old.

You know the Precious Blood Fathers
seemed to like Vallecorsa,
and our town wanted them to stay.
They agreed if they could have a house
next to the Church….
so the people got busy.
Our priest asked everyone to Help
carry stones….
and processions were organized.
I was very happy.
I love this sort of thing,
and common girls like me can do this
without any talk.
But was I surprised to see Maria
in the procession too!
I asked her how she managed,
and she just said her dad
came to her rescue,
making her promise to carry her
stones in her hat,
and not to ty to take the biggest ones.
Dad De Mattias knew this meant
much to Maria,
so he simply told the others
to lay off.

One thing that worried Mother Ottavia,
I think,
was the fact that her girls
did not seem to be thinking of marriage.
Vincenza was never well,
but she could have made a good wife
to some young man.
She was already 35,
and she just wouldn’t go out.
She was very pale and was sicker
than any of us thought.
Maria was 24,
pretty and Healthy,
but she talked only of being a nun.
She knew she couldn’t leave now
because she saw how ill her
mother and sister were.
She and I began doing more of the house work,
and I think her mother was relieved.
Toward the end of 1829
Vincenza got very sick,
and in December she died.
Mother Ottavia was terribly sad.
She herself was very sick.
Just seven months after Vincenza’s funeral
Mother De Mattias died.
I felt so sorry for Maria and her dad
and for the boys too.

The next two years,
Maria showed a side of her personality
that hadn’t been revealed before.
She took charge
and how she managed!
Her mother had so dominated
the household that Maria
just kind of lived quietly,
trying not to cause to many upheavals.
Now she and her dad organized everything.
They let me take care of the house
and the kitchen.
Michael was a young man,
23 years old now.
He had finished his studies
in law school in Rome
and had returned to Vallecorsa
as a successful lawyer.
He married Carolina Scachette
and they lived in the home place too.
That was nice.
Carolina was a good companion for Maria.
Antonio was 20,
studying medicine in Rome,
but not too seriously.
His dad had wanted him
to enter a seminary,
but that didn’t work.

Maria was aching to get on
with her missionary work.
She felt she couldn’t leave her dad,
at least not just yet….
But she felt she was getting old,
waiting…
(that’s what she told me,
but I didn’t think she looked old at all!)
Her dad let her carry on as much apostolic
work in the house as she cared to.
She had meetings with young girls,
and taught them catechism,
and much about good Christian living.
She continued her classes with children,
preparing them for the sacraments.
And sometimes groups of mother
came to pray with her.
While she was working,
she seemed so happy…
BUT
It wasn’t giving her all yet.

Do you remember my mentioning Don Gaspar
who gave a mission here
back in 1822?
He was really impressed with Maria,
though he only saw her once after that.
He corresponded with her dad some,
I don’t know how much.
Well, wouldn’t you know,
early in 1831, Dad got a letter from Gaspar,
asking him to let Maria go
to Norcia to teach in a school there.
Dad came to the kitchen
looking for Maria,
with the letter in his hand…
and that’s how I knew something
was going on.
Later Maria told me all about
the Norcia offer
and her desire to go.
She was so excited.
I had mixed emotions,
because I liked it in the De Mattias home,
so I hated to think of leaving.
Her enthusiasm was contagious…
and as we made plans,
I got excited myself.

We started getting ready:
Sewing more clothes…
knitted stockings…
not just for ourselves
but for Dad and the boys too.
We also canned tomato sauce
with Caroline,
helped smoke sausages and ham.
Then wouldn’t you know it,
another letter came,
this time from Merlini…
telling Maria to wait a while.
“Norcia wasn’t God’s will for Maria”,
he wrote.
Now how did he know that?
Maria was so sad.
I did my best to console her.

We picked up our life
where we had left off.
Maria increased her classes.
And I went back to cooking
and house cleaning.
Dad was very happy.
His only sorrow was seeing Maria
so disappointed.
He knew she wanted to give herself
totally to God,
and to service of others.
He knew that sooner or later
he would have to let her go.
So, when another letter came,
this time from Bishop Lais,
asking Maria to teach
in Acuto or in San Stefano,
Dad even  encouraged her,
as did Michael also.

I’m glad we had prepared all those
clothes two years ago.
We had less to do now--
and less time to do it.
Maria was a bundle of joy
She and dad had long talks.
I felt so sorry for him,
he looked so old and lonely.
Michael promise to take care of him
and dad was grateful. However he did insist that Michael
accompany his sister to Acuto.
Their good-byes almost tore me apart.
Dad blessed both of us.
I sure was glad the two little grandchildren
were hanging onto Dad’s pant legs.
They would help to distract him,
and ease his loss.
Frankly, I’m glad Michael came with us.
I wasn’t used to riding a donkey and
Michael had to help me up and down
at every stop.
He helped us carry our things
into the house and
get settled.

We didn’t get to stay in the Fransca
house very long.
There were three rooms on the ground floor,
which could be used as classrooms.
(The family used the two
upper floors.)
There wasn’t room for the 100 girls
who came to be instructed by Maria.
That house was dark, and damp, and cold--
I think every single one of us got sick.
I cried my eyes out to see how
Maria’s health was weakened.
The happy girls that came to us
cheered us, and helped us
remember it was all worthwhile.
Some wanted to stay with us all the time.
They helped me in the kitchen too,
rolling out the pasta,
and preparing the vegetables.
They called me Aunty,
and I liked that.
Maria was going to get a teacher
to help her.
That was good…and that was bad.

Anna Farrotti needed a place to sleep,
and it almost cost me everything.
One afternoon Maria sat down beside me
and talked to me about returning to
Vallecorsa.
I couldn’t believe it!
Surely she didn’t mean that
she didn’t want me with her any more.
I cried.
I begged to stay.
No, it’s true I can’t teach,
but she and the others needed someone
to cook, to clean, to pray.
I promised to stop “being her maid”.
I begged to become a member of
her Congregation:
A working sister--
a praying sister.
I didn’t convince her the first time,
but I asked Jesus to help me…
and finally, she understood
that He could call members
who have different gifts
besides teaching and giving retreats.
So, she let me STAY.

One day Maria came to tell us
we were going to move again.
I didn’t even moan,
because I wanted to get out
of this house.
Then when she told us we had permission
to use the Bishop’s seminary--
THE BIGGEST HOUSE IN TOWN--
with lots of good air,
and space for all of Maria’s
I mean God’s work…
room for our growing family….
You should have seen us dance and sing.
We kept on singing as we grabbed
up our things
and started to run up the many steps
TO OUR NEW HOME!


Having told you how happy we were to move
up to the seminary…
I must tell you we were even sadder
to have to leave.
We had had two wonderful years
in that big house and now
the bishop wanted us to leave.
I couldn’t believe it.
He had to be joking….
but that wouldn’t have even
been a good joke.
We didn’t run this time.
We drug our feet down to the
Stefani house.
Maria promised us it wouldn’t be for long
and somehow we believed her.
It gave us courage to squeeze
together again.
Our group had grown to nine sisters
plus boarders.

I have a confession to make
and I hope Maria isn’t listening.
While she and the others were busy
with the girls,
and I had finished the dinner dishes,
and had a breathing spell,
I used to slip down to the old hospital
which Maria was transforming into
our future MOTHER HOUSE.
I loved to watch the workmen,
and dream about having a home of our won.
It was that that I saw what a difference
it made when Maria came on the scene.
Hammers flew faster
saws zipped with renewed speed.
There were smiles, greetings, and Joy.
She often brought them lunch
and a little wine.
Then I knew why I sometimes couldn’t find
dinner-left-overs
that I planned to serve for supper.
But I didn’t mind.
I was glad it wasn’t a mouse that
was in my pantry.

With all the excitement of the building,
and all the work with the people in Acuto,
We were all quite jolted when news came,
on September 17, 1839, that
Dad De Mattias had died.
Maria and I hadn’t seen him since
we rode away, five and a half years ago.
In his letter, Michael wasn’t very clear
about the cause of the death.
I cried enough tears for Maria and myself
together.
She hid her sorrow
and I knew she was trying to be unselfish
rejoicing in her father’s
entry into heaven,
when, united with his wife and his seven children
he could sing God’s praises
in unending joy and glory.
Maria consoled her brothers and
encouraged them.
Michael and Nina already had three children.
Antonio was about to marry,
and move into the home place too.

This is 1855,
and today is a great day in my life.
I received the habit
and was truly a member
of this wonderful congregation.
The sisters all made the
Eucharist celebration very joyful.
I was amazed to see
how many of the Acutans
came to rejoice with me…
with us.
You know, I am the first lay sister
to receive the habit.
There are several other ladies
who have been cooking for the sisters
for many years;
and I know they want to become members too.
NOW they have hope.
you’d be surprised what good
community-builders we can be:
cheering the sisters with good food,
clean clothes, and
little surprises.
We have time to pray extra too,
both while we work and
in the presence of our
Eucharistic Lord.

It was unbelievable how our
congregation grew in member…
and in the number of towns
where our sisters served.
Over 200 sisters
joined Maria through the years.
I was proud and happy
when in August,
Michael’s second girl, Albina, entered.
His youngest girl, Maria,
later entered.
He had a son, Pio, who became a lawyer,
married and had two children.
His other son, Francis Xavier,
became a priest and theologian in Rome.
Antonio had eight children.
His oldest daughter,
Rose,  also joined her aunt.
You could tell these girls belonged
to the De Mattias family.
They loved their aunt,
and treated me as aunt also.
They were fine sister!

I was so proud of Maria.
She was a great saint
and most people recognized it.
But it hurt me terribly
when some of the sisters were disloyal
tom Maria and made her suffer.
Most of these eventually left,
and I sang for joy
(out in the garden where no one could see me.)
Some priests and bishops were hard on
Maria for a while too.
You can imagine how I prayed,
for their conversion,
if it isn’t disrespectful to say it.
But I’m sure every single one
finally realized her holiness…
and appreciated her.

Another thing that caused me suffering
was to see how Maria’s health
had been undermined…
by bad living conditions…
by overwork…
by that tumor on her arm…
by contact with so many sick sisters.
Her first bad spell was in 1835 while
we were still living in the Fransca house.
Then through the years, her health weakened.
When she reluctantly stayed in bed in Acuto,
I sometimes prepared
special things for her tray like:
An egg, fruit, milk.
But then I heard that she gave away
the “extras” and ate only the common food.
Naturally, I was disappointed,
but I understood.
I kept trying to accept her heroic virtue:
But sometimes my love for her
forced my hand
when preparing her try.

You may think I spent all my
Religious life in Acuto…but no,
I also served in Rome:
at San Luigi and San Giovanni….
and then my last years
were in Civitavecchia.
I loved my work, where ever,
as long as we sisters were united in love.
It was good to see how the sisters
imitated Maria, in their loving service.
I felt so much pride in watching them
teach, conduct retreats, lead singing in church,
and so many other things.
I especially liked to see them prepare children,
especially the poor little shepherds,
for the sacraments.
It reminded me of my own sacramental preparation,
so many years ago, by Maria herself. 

In recreation, the sisters used to ask me
to tell them stories
of the De Mattias household.
I LOVED IT!
And at night I dreamed dreams
of our beautiful years in Vallecorsa.
When I was in Civiavecchia,
I was very happy when the little Maria
was assigned to our community.
She was such a good girl,
everyone loved her.
Michael and Nina
came frequently to see her…me…us.
They were concerned,
for they saw she was not well.



I did all I could to help her get well:
And she obediently ate the extra egg
and drank the extra milk.
At the same time I heard how sick
our Mother Foundress was in Rome.
You can imagine how hard it was for me
to be so far away.
It was no surprise to me,
when news came that she had gone
peacefully to God.
We all cried a lot,
but somehow we felt her
continued presence among us.
Then four months later,
our little Maria
went to join her Aunt in Heaven.
She was still so young,
so full of life
and had only been in the congregation six years,
but then, Heaven is something we all look forward to,
so I couldn’t wish her back.

For fourteen more years I continued my service
to the sisters,
to the Congregation
and to the Church.
I did my best…
but I wasn’t so young anymore..
edging close to 60
and then easing over.
Others helped me with my work
in the kitchen, laundry and garden.
Now there are quite a few lay sisters
professed in our Congregation.
They Jokingly call me their
PIONEER.
in 1879, word came that
Antonio De Mattias 
passed away at the age of 68.
His hadn’t been an easy life,
but I’m sure his sister prayed
him into Heaven.
Michael was not too well now.
In 1880, he and I both were to
enter Eternity…
I in March and
he in September.
It was just like a grand homecoming.
All of us De Mattias together again
with God….Forever!

My message to you sisters is:
LOVE GOD AND LOVE
ALL PEOPLE.
I can’t do better than that:
since it was Jesus’ command.
Love your foundress and learn all you can
about her.
She is a great saint,
and is just as eager today
to help you as she was back in 1834.
Believe in her conviction that:
THE INSTITUE IS GOD’S WORK….
HAVE NO FEAR….
BE CHEERFUL.
And thank you, for letting me
talk to you today.
It was quite a privilege.
When you are ready,
We’ll welcome you into Heaven
and you’ll see how wonderful it is.

 

 

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