Fairy tales were a favorite topic of G.K. Chesterton. He loved them dearly and firmly believed in their import in the moral formation of children. He wrote in his essay, “The Red Angel”:

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

The characters of a fairy story may not be true, but the story itself communicates the deepest truths of this world, and even more importantly the truths of the next world. And if a fairy story can be so powerful for a young mind, if fantastical princes and princesses and ogres and giants can help the soul soar, then how much more can a true story shape the heart?

Chesterton deemed Cinderella a tale whose heroine echoed the ethos of the Magnificat: the lowly shall be exalted. What if Cinderella weren’t just a sweet maid in a story, but a real, flesh and blood woman in this world? If an imaginary story could call to mind the greatest song sung by the greatest woman in salvation history, what could a real Cinderella teach?

St. Crescentia Hoess, a gentle German nun in the 18th century, was born into poverty. Crescentia followed her father’s footsteps, becoming a weaver for their small village, but her heart told her God wanted something else, and she began to dream of becoming a nun. When she originally applied to enter the convent of the Tertiaries of St. Francis as a young woman, she was rejected because she had no dowry. A kindly benefactor, a bona fide fairy godmother in the form of her town’s Protestant mayor, knew Crescentia and was so moved by her faith that he made a large donation to the convent. The sisters immediately asked him how they could repay his generosity, only to be told that he desired nothing but their acceptance of Crescentia’s application. Surprised, they allowed Crescentia to enter as a novice, but only begrudgingly, viewing her as a burden and a tax upon their convent.

Uncowed by their cold reception, Crescentia bravely embarked upon her hard-won vocation. Her poverty and the manner of acceptance were well known among the sisters, and they used this against her, treating her with disdain and even reducing her to nearly a servant among them. Denied her own cell, she slept in the corners of others’ rooms, eventually receiving a damp cupboard to curl up in at night. On top of her daily obligations of chores and prayers, she cooked, cleaned and weaved for the nuns in the convent, treated more as a maid than as a fellow novice.

Despite these daily humiliations, Crescentia responded with patience and grace. Her cheer never dimmed, and her meek submission did not waiver. Four years after her entrance to the convent, a new mother superior noticed her great piety and littleness of spirit. She lessened her load and continued to watch as Crescentia moved throughout her days, filled with joy and love, even for those whose abuse she suffered. In 1717, in recognition of Crescentia’s tremendous personal holiness, the mother superior named her the new mistress of novices.

Crescentia had spent the majority of her life as the lowliest in her social circle, yet she endured every hardship with love and grace. She responded to the barbs and mockery of the other sisters with a meekness of spirit that left no room for bitter resentment, and she offered all of her little sufferings for God’s greater glory.

When she became the novice of mistresses, she brought this same gentle, loving spirit with her, molding the young women entrusted to her with a heart oriented to Christ’s love.

In 1741, the woman who had entered the convent 35 years earlier as the lowliest of novices, mocked and abused for her poverty, was elected to be Mother Superior. The young girl, forced almost to sleep among the cinders, rose to become a woman renowned for her great faith and spiritual wisdom. Bishops, cardinals, princes and noblemen sought her counsel. Yet even as these powerful men came before her, she remained humble and childlike in her faith, just as she had been in the years spent hidden away in the convent kitchens.

In the final years of her life, Crescentia’s prestige rose as her body failed. Disease riddled her body, slowly immobilizing her limbs and distorting them until she remained in constant pain, unable to move from the fetal position on her cot. Even then, in the face of such suffering, she thanked God for his goodness and bore her pain with radiant joy. Her great peace and interior joy never left her as her eyes remained fixed on God and she passed into eternity on Easter Sunday in 1744. The little girl, dreaming of God at her loom, had been exalted.

St. Crescentia Hoess, pray for us!