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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul cllchA, 11 est film* A partir de Tangle aupArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant la nombra d'images nAcesssire. Les diagrammes suivanta illuatrant la mithoda. irrata to pelure. in A □ 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 4 f '^ -*•■ LIFE IN THE .^.:^ ' f WY NUNNERY AT MONTREAL AX AUTHENTIC! K\RRATIVE OP TTIR HORRORS, MtSSBWES, AND CRUELTIES ¥ ■ rf I «*.* «^': V. ■{fei! DAMRELL 4 K^-- ♦ fll^>; LIFE IN THE - \. GREY NUNNERY AT MONTfil^AL. AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE .f OF THE HORRORS, MYSTERIES, AND CRUELTIES OF €ONTBirT LIVE. BY SARAH J. RICHARDSON, AK ESOAPBO RVRr ■%■■ BOSTON: DAHBELL ft MOORE, PRINTERS 1858. 1' Enteral, aecording to Aet of CongteM, In tho jfr 1867, bj KDWARD P. HOOD, In the Clerk'i OSce of the District Court for the Diitrict of Mamchnaettt. LITHOTYPBD BT OOWLES AND OOUPANT, At the pOoe of the American Stenotype Company, PUCBKIZ BUILDING, BOSTON. INTRODUCTION. In presenting to the public the strange and startling narrative of Sabah J. Richardson, it has not been the object of the compiler to make a ''book that will sell," or to cater to the taste of the wonder-lovmg crowd by making the most of the facts before her. In no case has she allowed herself to draw upon imag- ination for material to make out the story, nor has she presumed to interrupt the narrative with such remarks or suggestions as may have occurred to her own mind. But, leaving the reader to make his own reflections, draw his own inferences, and form his own opinion of the incidents related, she has simply endeavored to present to the world the plain, unvarnished story of cruelty and suffering, as related by the nun herself. That it may invite investigar tion, and elicit truth, is the earnest wish of The Cohfiler. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Father's Birth — Stranger in a Strange Land — Wanning the Viper — Elopement — Deserted Chamber — Beoson Dethroned — Death — Return Home — Religions Diffl- calties — Parting in anger — Death of a Deroted Wife — Failing in Business— A Child's Grief — Given to Priest Dow — Leaving a Father CHAPTER n. White Nunnery — Deep regret — Fearfbl anticipations — Signs of the Cross — Prayers — Punishment — Alone amid a Crowd — Resolve to Obey — Miniature — Cat-o'-nine-tai]» — Learn Verses — Prayers — Breakfast — Scanty Allow- ance — Fasting and Confession — Receiving the Sacra- ment — Absurd Threat CHAPTER m. The Nursery — Exdrcise — Father Darity — Catechism — Perfect Obedience Required — No Friend — Treachery — Three Scenes — Image of Christ — Heaven — Hell — Image of the Devil — Fearful Threat — Extremity of Terror — Priestly Artifice — Severe Illness — Excited Imagination — Extreme Weakness — Effects of Supersti- tious Terrors 17 CHAPTER IV. St. Bridget — Strange Conduct — Bitter Grief— A Slave for Life — Appeal to American Citizens — Kindness of 1» ^ CONTENTS. St. Bride;ct — Dorangod Nun — Concoaling Brood —tcr- emony on Mooting a Priest — Sick Little Girls — Broken Hearts — Hard Fate — Fiends in Human Form — Igno- rancoof Protestants — Silent Grief — Superiors Punished — No One to be Trusted — Good Advice — Unpardon* •bio Siu S5 CHAPTER V. Fears Being sent back to the Nursery — Cmel Abbess— > Taking Care of the Sick — Only way to avoid Punish- ment — Goes to Chapel — Pope's Nuncio — Questions — Gloomy Prospects — Confirmation — White Veil — Leav- ing a Friend — Little Girls from Ireland — Horrible Deception — Goes to Chapel — Apostles — Candles — Two Coffins— Is laid in a Coffin— Fear of Death — Grey Nunnery Suit — Starts for Montreal — Coffins taken to Montreal 33 CHAPTER VI. Grey Nunnery Described — Something to Conceal — Black Cloisters — Black Nuns — Black Book — Lady Superior — Short Allowance — Strict Rules — Trial of Obedience — Go to Work in the Kitchen — Only five Minutes Con- versation — Perfect Silence the Rest of the Day — School for young Ladies — Cooking for Saloons — Severe Trial of Temper 43 CHAPTER VIL Pretended Benevolence — Childrens Rooms. — Number of Scholars — Other Inmates — Rigid Espionage — Cere- mony when a Priest Enters — Easy Life — Kind Superior — Ceremony of Consecration — Crown of Thorns — What will it Avail — New Superior — Sudden Death — Terrible Suspicion — No questions Allowed — Separation — Strict Rules — Strapped down to the Bed — Strives to do Right — Punished for the least Trifle 51 CHAPTER Vin. Ceremony 01) Entering a Priest's Room — Accident —; Sor- rONTENTfl. row and Confetaion of no Avail — Coal Cellar— ConAned in a Coll — DarknoM and Terror — Horrible Anticipa- tiona — " Ii there a Go False Charge — Unjust Punish^ ment — Crown of Thorns — Breaking down the Spirit— Burned with Hot Tongs— Punished for a mere Accident — Walking on Tiptoe— Cruel Abbess— Retaliation — Expect Punishment— A Priest Stabbed— Nuns try to Torment Him — Monotonous Life — ^Beautiful Lady — Worth of a Smile — Cruel Order of the Abbess — Refuse to Ob^->B«venge— Severe Reproof— All Punished. . . . ..143 CHAPTER XCE. Sickness and Death of a Superior- A Nun accuses herself of Murder — Smtenced to be HUng— The Confession — "Is it Right"— No Fear of Death — Catholicism all tf Fable — A Fearful Sight — Once more Resolves to Esciqie — Strange Proceeding — Alone — Superstitious Fears — Sleepless Night — Appeal to the Priest 153 CHAPTER XX. Students at the Academy — Conversation Forbidden — Paint- ers — Sudden Illness — Suspicion of Poison— A Nun Accused — Put upon die Rack — Confession — Great Provocation — WiU not tell where she got the Poison— ^ Terrible Doom — Student from New England— Sisqr Smalley— The Convent a Nice Place 158 CHAPTER XXL Again Escapes — Market — Dark Alley — B»Iice Offioert •— I ' ; i \i K Mf p # r dOMTENTS. Meets Two Priests — Catering at Straws— Salutation-^ The Church •<«H. Agonizing Suspense — Again on the Wagr — Hiding in a Cellar Hole — Hospitality — Lady St. Oars •^Kindness of a Frenchman — Graveyard — More airaid of the Living than the Dead 162 CHAPTER XXn. Travel all KTight— Enter a Thick Wood— Solitude, Dark- ness, and Cold — Bitter Beflections — Voice of the Storm — Falls Asleep — Hungry — Cold and Sick — Weary and Friendless — Striving for Liberty — Benewed Efforts — — The Good Samaritan — Shoes Lost in the Mud — Acceptable Present — At the Depot — Almost Crazy — Wealthy Lady — Fears of Treachery — Arrival at St. Albans — Finds a Friend — Happy Home — Holy Scap- qlary at.- 167 CHAPTEB XXm. Alarming Discovery — Fleeing for Life — A sad BCsstep— Again Overtaken — Gagged — Thrust into a Box — Gloomy Prospect — Bitter Beproach — Four men to Guard one Nun — Carried to Montreal — Taken to a Cell — Sentenced to Seven Days Starvation — Indignation — Despir— Starving to Death— A Nun's Opinion— AU Atheists — Severe Illness — Private Conversation — At Work Again — Weary of Life — Underground Passages — Could not Sleep — The One Great Object 177 CHAPTER XXIV. Dreaded December — Black Veil — On the Verge of ififecbiess — Forbidden Closet — A Strange Unnatural Liiigh — No Hope but in Death — Benefit of Plain Looks — Escape once More — A Seaet— Stopped by the Guard —Will Never be Taken Back Alive — Exultant Joy— Ferry-boat — Passage Refused — Again Pursued — Seeks Protection — Is Concealed in the Ashes — House Searched — Kindness — Once more Pursued — Priests — Orange men carried to St. Oars 186 •ni^fO"*" CONTEl^^ CHAPTER XXV. XI Kindneit of Mr. Stots — Good Adrice — Left at dw Depot — Dare not wait for the Cars — Railroad Bridge— Peri- lous Walk — Draw-Bridge — "Are you Cn»y" — A Flatterer and Deceiver — En route for Albany — Half-Way House — Cruel Insinuation — Reach Albany late at Night — Met by a Watchman — Mr. Williams — Cordial Recep- tion — Real Friends — Startling Incident — Intruder Es- capes — Liberty or Death — Sad Parting — " Shall I Never find a Home " — Incident in the Cars — Gentlemanly Con- ductor — Arrival at Worcester — Sees a Priest at the Depot — Finds Friends, and Employment 205 CHAPTER XXVI. Seeking Employment in Worcester — Goes out to Washing — Finds a home with Mr. Goddard — Restless and Suspi- cious — Always on the Qui-vive — A Secret Revealed: — Employed by Amos R. Black — Marriflg^^- Drury Farm — Relates her History — Testimonials. . . . i 217 m i fU si^- it ;'f' ilF- , i^ APPENDIX. APPENDIX I. Absurdities of Bomanists 217 APPENDIX II. Craelty of Romanists .......,< 236 APPENDIX nL Inquisition of Goa 242 APPENDIX IV. Inquisition of Goa, Concluded.. •. 257 APPENDIX V. Inquisition at Macerata 363 APPENDIX VI. Romanism of the Present Day 293 APPENDIX Vn. Narfative of Signorina Florenoia D'Romani 300 y ■ ■ . mmmmmmmmmm % LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. CHAPTER I. PARENTAGE. FATHEr's MARRIAGE. I WAS born at St. John's, New Brunswick, in the year 1835. My father was from the city of Dub- lin, Ireland, where he spent his youth, and received an education in accordance with the strictest rules of Roman Catholic faith and practice. Early man- hood, however, found him dissatisfied with his native country, longing for other scenes and distant climes. He therefore left Ireland, and came to Quebec. Here he soon became acquainted with Capt. Willard, a wealthy English gentleman, who, find- ing him a stranger in a strange land, kindly opened his door, and gave him employment and a home. Little did he think that in so doing he was warm- ing in his bosom a viper whose poisonous fangs would, ere long, fasten on his very heart-strings, and bring down his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. His Qi;j(|^ child was a lovely daughter of fourteen. Fin^ what I have heard of her, I think she must have been very beautiful in person, quiet, I fe -V If 2 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. gentle and unassuming in her deportment, and her disposition amiable and affectionate. She was exceedingly romantic, and her mental powers were almost, if not entirely uncultivated ; still, she pos- sessed sufficient strength of character to enable her to form a deep, ardent, and permanent attachment. The young stranger gazed upon her with admir- ing eyes, and soon began to whisper in her ear the flattering tale of love. This, of course, her parents could not approve. What ! give their darling to a stranger ? Never, no, never. What could they do without her ? Grieved that their kindness should have been thus returned, they bade him go his way, and leave their child in peace. He did go, but like a thief he returned. In the darkness of midnight he stole to her chamber, and bore away from the home of her childhood, " a father's joy, a mother's pride." Who can tell the anguish of their souls when they entered that deserted chamber ? How deso- late their lonely hearthstone ! How dark the home where her presence had scattered rainbow hues! A terrible blow it was to Capt. Willard; a very bit- ter thing thus to have his cherished plans frustrated, his brightest hopes destroyed ; to see the very sun of his existence go down at midday in clouds and darkness. Yes, to the stern father this sad event brought bitter, bitter grief. But to the mother — , that tender, affectionate mother, it was death. Yea, more than death, for reason, at the first shock, reeled and tottered on its throne ; then, as days and EETUBN HOME. weeks passed by, and still the loved one did not return, when every effort to find her had been made in vain, then, the dread certainty settled down upon her soul that her child was lost to her forever. Hope gave place to despair, and she became, from that time, a raving maniac. At length death came to her relief, and her husband was left alone. Six weary years passed over the lonely man, and then he rejoiced in the intelligence that his child was still living with her husband at St. John's. He immediately wrote to her, imploring her to return to her old home, and with the light of her presence dispel the gloom of his dwelling. Accordingly she left St. John's, and in company with her hus- band returned to her father. I was then about a year and a half old, but I have so often heard these facts related by my father and grandfather, they are indelibly impressed on my mind, and will never be erased from my memory. My mother now thought her trouble at an end, that in future she should enjoy the happiness she once anticipated. But, alas, for idl human pros- pects ! Ere one short month had passed, difficulties arose in consequence of the difference in their religious opinions. Capt Willard was a firm Prot- estant, while my father was quite as firm in his belief of the principles of the Roman Catholics. " Can two walk together except they be agreed ? " They parted in anger, and my father again became a wanderer, leaving his wife and child with his father-in-law. But my mother was a faithful, LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. i I i^:^ devoted wife. Her husband was her heart's chosen idol whom she loved too well to think of being separated from. She therefore left her father's house, with all its luxuries and enjoyments, to fol- low the fortunes of one, who was certainly unwor- thy of the pure affection thus lavished upon him. As her health had been delicate for the last two years, she concluded to leave me with her father for a short time, intending to send for me, as soon as she was in a situation to take care of me. But this was not to be. Death called her away, and I saw. my mother no more till her corpse was brought back, and buried in her father's garden. Two years I remained with my grandfather, and from him, I received the most affectionate and devoted attention. My father at length opened a saloon, for the sale of porter, and hired a black woman to do his work. He then came for me. My grand- father entreated that I might be allowed to remain. Well he knew that my father was not the man to be entrusted with the care of a child — that a Por- ter House was no place for me, for he was quite sure that stronger liquors than porter were there drank and sold. In fact, it was said, that my father was himself a living evidence of this. But it is of a parent I am speaking, and, whatever failings the world may have seen in him, to me he was a kind and tender father. The years I spent with him were the happiest of my life. On memory's page they stand out in bold relief, strikingly contrasting with the wretchednesss of my after life. And HAPPT DATS OF CHILDHOOD. though I cannot forget that his own rash act brought this wretchedness upon me, still, I believe his motives were good. I know that he loved me, and every remembrance of his kindness, and those few bright days of childhood, I have carefully cherished as a sacred thing. He did not, however, succeed in the business he had undertaken, but lost his prop- erty and was at length compelled to give up his saloon. I was then placed in a Koman Catholic family, where he often visited, and ever appeared to feel for me the most devoted attachment. One day he came to see me in a state of partial intoxication. I did not then know why his face was bo red, and his breath so offensive, but I now know that he was under the influence of ardent spirits. The woman with whom I boarded seeing his condition, and being a good Catholic, resolved to make the most of the occasion for the benefit of the nunnery. She therefore said to him, ^* You are not capable of bringing up that child ; why don't you give her to Priest Dow?" — « Will he take her?" asked my father. " Yes," she replied, " he will put her into the nunnery, and the nuns will take better care of her than you can." ** On what condition will they take her?" he asked. '^ Give the priest one hun- dred dollars," replied the artful woman, " and he will take good care of her as long as she lives." This seemed a very plausible story ; but I am sure my father did not realize what he v/as doing. Had he waited for a little reflection, he would never 1* :4' hi It « C LIFE IN THE ORET KUMNERT. have consented to such an anrangement, and my fate would have been quite different. But as it was, he immediately sent for the priest, and gave me to him, to be provided for, as his own child, until I was of age. I was then to be allowed to go out into the world if I chose. To this. Priest Dow consented, in consideration of one hundred dollars, which he received, together with a good bed and bedding. My mother's gold ear-rings were also entrusted to his care, until I should be aid enough to wear them. But I never saw them again. Though I was at that time but six years old, I remember perfectly, all that passed upon that memorable occasion. I did not then com- prehend the full meaning of what was said, but I understood enough to fill my heart with sorrow and apprehension. When their bargain was completed. Priest Dow called me to him, saying, with a smile, ** You are a stubborn little girl, I guess ; a little naughty, sometimes, are you not ? " Surprised and alarmed, I replied, " No, sir." He then took hold of my hair, which was rather short, drew it back from my forehead with a force that brought the tears to my eyes, and pressing his hand heavily on my head, he again asked if I was not sometimes a little wilful and disobedient. I was so much £right- ened at this, I turned to my father, and with tears and sobs entreated him not to send me away with that man, but allow me to stay at home with him. He drpw me to Ms bosom, wiped away my tears, THE FIRST GRIEF. and sought to quiet my fears by assuring me that I would have a good and pleasant home; that the nuns would take better care of me than he could ; and that he would often come to see me. Thus, by the aid of flattery on one side, and sugar- plums on the other, they persuaded me at last to accompany the priest to the White Nunnery, St Paul's street, Quebec. I was too young to realize the sad change in my situation, or to anticipate the trials and priva- tions that awaited me. But I was deeply grieved thus to leave my father, my only real friend, my mother being dead, and my grandfather a heretic, whom I had been taught to regard with the utmost abhorrence. Little, however, did I think that this was a last farewell. But such it was. Though he had promised to come often to see me, I never saw my father again ; never even heard from him ; and now, I do not know whether he is dead or alive. k > r i> i. ,'M 'if CHAPTER II. THE WHITE NUNNERY. On my arrival at the nunnery, I was placed under the care of a lady whom they called a Superior. She took me into a room alone, and told me that the priest would come to me in the morning to hear confession, and I must confess to him all my sins. " What are sins V* 1 asked, and, '^ How shall I confess ? I don't know what it means." *^ Don't know what sins are ! " she exclaimed in great as- tonishment. " Why, child, I am surprised that you should be so ignorant ! Where have you lived all your days ? " With all the simplicity of childhood, I replied, ^ With my father ; and once I lived with my grandfather ; but they did n't tell me how to confess." " Well," said she, " you must tell the priest all you' wicked thoughts, words,.and actions." " What is wicked ? " I innocently asked. " If you have ever told an untruth," she replied, ^^ or taken what did not belong to you, or been in any way naughty, disobedient, or unkind ; if you have been angry, or quarrelled with your playmates, that was wicked, and you viust tell the priest all about it. If you try to conceal, or keep back anything, the priest will, know ii. aod p (txish you. You cannot mV ' ! dTRIOT BULES. ■\eo.e,i\:. him if you try, for he knows all you do, or say, or even think ; and if you attempt it, you 11 only get yourself into trouble. But if you are resolved to be a good girl, kind, gentle, frank, sin- cere, and obedient, the priest will love you, and be kind to you." When I >vah cir/'.ticted to my room, at bed- time, I rejon 3(] ^o find in it several little cot beds, oc :upi« (1 by little girls about my own age, who had been, like myself, consigned to the tender mercies of priests and nuns. I thought if we must live in that great gloomy house, which even to my child- ish imagination seemed so much like a prison, we could ill some degree dispel our loneliness and mit- igate our sorrows, by companionship and sympathy. But I was soon made to khow that even this small comfort would not be allowed us, for the Superior, as she assisted me to bed, told me that I must Jiot speak, or groan, or turn upon my side, or move in any way ; for if I made the least noise or disturb- ance, I would be severely punished. She assured me that if we disobeyed in the least particular, she would know it, even if she was not present, and deal with us accordingly. She said that when the clock strjck twelve, the bell would ring for prayers; that L, must then rise, and kneel with our heads bowed upon the bed, and repeat the prayer she taught us. When, at length, she left us, locking the door after her, I was so frightened, I did not dare to sleep, lest I should move, or fail to awake at the proper time. I I Ti y U f 1 1 10 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. Slowly passed the hours of that long and weary night, while I lay, waiting the ringing of the bell, or thinking upon the past with deep regret. The most fearful visions haunted my brain, and fears of future punishment filled my mind. How could I hope to escape it, vhen they were so very strict, and able to read my most secret thoughts ? What would I not have given could I have been again restored to my father ? True he was intemperate, but at that time I thought not of this ; I only knew that he was always kind to me, that he never refused what I asked of him. I sometimes think, even now, that if he had not so cruelly thrust me from him, I might have been able to win him from his cups and evil course of life. But this was not to be. Having given himself up to the demon of intemperance, it is not surprising that he should have given away his only child ; that he should have placed her in the hands of those who proved utterly unworthy of the trust. But however indig- nant I may at times have felt towards him, for the one great wrong he committed against me, still I do not believe he would ever have done it but for the influence of ardent spirits. Moreover, I do not suppose that he had the least idea what kind of a place it was. He wished, doubtless, that his child might be well educated ; that she might be shielded from the many trials and temptations that cluster around the footsteps of the young and inexperi- enced, in the midst of a cold and heartless world. From these evils the nunnery, he thought, would MIDNIGHT DEVOTIONS. 11 be a secure retreat, for there science, religion, and philanthropy, professedly^ go hand in hand. Like many other deluded parents, he thought that " Holi- ness to the Lord " was inscribed upon those walls, and that nothing which could pervert or defile the youthful mind, was permitted to enter there. With these views and feelings, he was undoubtedly sin- cere when he told me, " I would have a good home, and the nuns would take better care of me than he could.'' Rash his decision certainly was, cruel it proved to be ; but I shall ever give him credit for good intentions. At length the bell rang, and all the girls immedi- ately left their beds, and placed themselves upon their knees. I followed their example, but I had scarcely time to kneel by my bed, when the Superior came into the room with a light in her hand, and attended by a priest. He came to me, opened a book, and told me to cross myself. This ceremony he instructed me to perform in the following man- ner: the right hand is placed upon the forehead, and drawn down to the breast; then across the breast from left to right. The Superior then told me to say the prayer called "Hail Mary!" I attempted to do so, but failed, for, though I had often repeated it after my father, I could not say it correctiy alone. She then bade me join my hands, and repeat it after her. "Hail Mary! Full of grace! The Lord be with thee ! Blessed art thou among women ! Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus ! Mother of God ! Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen." 12 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. " Now," said the Superior, as I rose from my knees, " you must learn every word of that prayer before to-morrow night, or go without your supper." I tried my best to remember it, but with so little instruction, for she repeated it to me but once, I found it quite impossible the next night to say it correctly. Of course, I was compelled to go with- out my supper. This may seem a light punishment to those who have enough to eat — who sit down to a full table, and satisfy their appetite three times per day, but to a nun, who is allowed only enough to sustain life, it is quite a different thing. And especially to a child, this mode of punishment is more severe, and harder to bear than almost any other. I thought I would take good care not to be punished in that way again ; but I little knew what was before me. Before the Superior left us she assisted me into bed, and bade me be very still until the second bell in the morning. Then, I must rise and dress as quickly as possible, and go to her room. Quiet- ness, she enjoined upon me as a virtue, while the least noise, or disturbance of any kind, would be punished as a crime. She said I must walk very softly indeed along the halls, and close the doors so carefully that not a sound could be heard. After giving me these first instructions in convent life, she left me, and I was allowed to sleep the rest of the night. The next morning, I awpke at the ringing of the first bell, but I did not dare to stir until the second I>ell, when the other little girls arose in great haste. ALONE AMID A CROWD. la I then dressed as quickly as possible, but not a word was spoken — not a thought, and scarcely a look exchanged. I was truly " alone amid a crowd," and I felt the utter loneliness of my situation most keenly. Yet I saw very clearly that there was but one course for me to pursue, and that was, to obey in all things ; to have no will of my own, and thus, if possible, escape punishment But it was hard, very hard for me to bring my mind to this. I had been the idolized child of affection too long to sub- mit readily and patiently to the privations I was now forced to endure. Hitherto my will had been law. I had naturally an imperious, violent temper, which I had never been taught to govern. Instead of this, my appetites were pampered, my passions indulged, and every desire gratified as far as possi- ble. Until that last sad parting, I hardly knew what it was to have a request refused; and now^to experience such a change — such a sudden transi- tion from the most liberal indulgence to the most cruel and rigorous self-denial — Oh, it was a severe trial to my independent spirit to submit to it. Yet, submit I must, for I had learned, even then, that my newly appointed guardians were not to be trifled with. Henceforth, obedience must be my motto. To every command, however cruel and unjust, I must yield a blind, passive, and unquestioning obe- dience. I dressed as quickly as possible, and hastened down to the Superior. As I passed through the hall, I thought I would be very careful to step softly. u LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. but in my haste I forgot what she said about clos- ing the door, and it came together with a loud crash. On entering the room, I found the Superior waiting for me ; in her hand she held a stick about a foot long, to the end of which was attached nine leather strings, some twelve or fifteen inches long, and about the size of a man's little finger. She bade me come to her, in a voice so cold and stern it sent a thrill of terror through my frame, and I trembled with the apprehension of some impending evil. I had no idea that she was about to punish me, for I was not aware that I had done anything to deserve it ; but her looks frightened me, and I feared, — I know not what. She took hold of my arm, and without saying a word, gave me ten or twelve strokes over the head and shoulders with this miniature cat-o'-nine-tails. Truly, with her, it was " a word and a blow, and the blow came first.*' Wherever the strings chanced to fall upon the bare flesh, they raised the skin, as though a hot iron had been applied to it. In some places they took off the skin entirely, and left the flesh raw, and quiver- ing with the Ringing pain. I could not think at first what I had done to deserve this severe punish- ment, nor did she condescend to enlighten me. But when I began to cry, and beg to go to my father, she sternly bade me stop crying at once, for I could not go to my father. I must stay there, she said, and learn to remember all her commands and obey them. She then taught me the following verse : OBEDIENCE REQUIRED. 16 I am a littlo nun, The sisters I will mind ; When I am pretty and loam, Then they will use me kind. I must not bo so noisy When I go about the house, I'll close the doors so softly. They '11 think I am a mouse. This verse I repeated until I could say it cor- rectly. I was then taken to the breakfast-room, where I was directed to kneel before the crucifbc, and say my prayers, which I repeated after the Superior. I was then seated at the table, and directed to hold my head down, and fix my eyes upon my plate.- I must not look at any one, or gaze about the room ; but sit still, and quietly eat what was given me. I had upon my plate, one thin slice of wheat bread, a bit of potato, and a very small cup of milk. This was my staled allowance, and I could have no more, however hun- gry I might be. The same quantity was given me every meal, when in usual health, until I was ten years of age. On fast days, no food whatever was allowed; and we always fasted for three meals before receiving the sacrament. This ceremony was observed every third day, therefore we were obliged to fast about one-third of the time. Yet, however long the fast might be, my allowance of food was never increased. After breakfast the Stiperior took me to Priest Dow for confession. He kept me with him all day, allowing me neither food nor drink ; nor did *!¥' i! u •f. ' ^ i f 1(J LIFK IN THE GREY NUNNERY. he permit me to break my fast until four o'clock the next day. I then received what they call the sacrament, for the first time. To prepare for this, I was clad in a white dress and cape, and a white cap on my head. I was then led to the chapel, and passing up the aisle, knelt before the altar. Priest Dow then came and stood before me, and taking from a wine-glass a small thin wafer, he placed it upon my tongue, at the same time repeating some Latin words, which, the Superior afterwards told me, mean in English, " The body and blood of Christ." I was taught to believe that I held in my mouth the real body and blood of Christ. I was alsb told that if T swallowed the wafer before it had melted on my tongue, it would choke me to death ; and if I in- dulged an evil thought while I held it in my mouth I should fall into a pool of blood. r- V ! « CHAPTER III. THE NURSERY. While in the White Nunnery, I spent the most of my time in the nursery. But the name gives one no idea of the place. The freedom and care- less gayety, so characteristic of other nurseries, had no place in this. No cheerful conversation, no juvenile merriment, or pleasureable excitement of any kind, were ever allowed. A merry laugh, on the contrary, a witty jest, or a sly practical joke, " would have been punished as the most heinous offence. Here as elsewhere in the establishment, the strictest rules of silence and obedience were rigidly enforced. There were twenty little girls in the room with me, but we were never permitted to speak to each other, nor to any one except a priest or a Superior. When directly addressed by either of them we were allowed to answer; but we might never ask a question, or make a remark, or in any way, either by looks, words, or signs, hold commu- nication with each other. Whenever we did so, it was at the risk of being discovered and severely punisned. Yet this did not repress the desire for conversation ; it only made us more cautious, artful, and deceptive. The only recreation allowed us 2* %^' laorstf because the story of wrong and outrage which occasionally finds its way to the public ear, ►is not generally believed. You pity the poor black man who bends beneath the scourge of southern bondage, for the tale comes to you from those who have seen his tears and heard his groans. But you have no tears, no prayers, no eflbrts for the poor helpless nun who toils and dies beneath the heart- less cruelty of an equally oppressive task-master. No ; for her you have no sympathy, for you do not believe her word. Within those precincts of cru- elty, no visitor is ever admitted. No curious eye may witness the secrets of their prison-house. Consequently, there is no one to bear direct testi- mony to the truth of her statements. Even now, methinks, I see your haughty brow contract, and your lip curl with scorn, as with supreme contempt you throw down these pages and exclaim, "'Tis all a fiction. Just got up to make money. No proof that it is true." No proof do you say ? O, that the strong arm of the law would interpose in our behalf! — that some American Napoleon would come forth, and break open those prison doors, and drag forth to the light of day those hidden instru- ments of torture! There would then be proof enough to satisfy the most incredulous, that, so far from being exaggerated, the half has not been told. Sons of America ! Will you not arise in your might, and demand that these convent doors be opened, and " the oppressed " allowed to " go free " ? Or if this be denied, sweep from the fair earth, the BREAD KATEN IN SECRET. 27 Diack-hearted wretches who dare, in the very face of heaven, to commit such fearful outrages upon helpless, suflfei ing humanity ? How long — O how < long will you sutler these dens of iniquity to remain unopened ? How long permit this system of priestly cruelty to continue ? But I am wandering from my story. Would that I might forever wander from it — that I might at once blot from memory's page, the fearful recol- lection that must follow me to my grave ! Yet, painful as it is to rehearse the past, if I can but awaken your sympathy for other sufferers, if I can but excite you to efforts for their deliverance, it is all I ask. I shall have my reward. But to return to my story. The Abbess saw how deeply I was grieved, and immediately left the room. St. Bridget told me not to cry, for she would be a mother to me as long as I remained with her, and she was true to her promise. Another sister, who sometimes came to my room, I believe was crazy. She would run up to my bed, put her hand on me, and burst into a loud and hearty laugh. This she repeated as often as she came, and I told the Abbess one day, I did wish that sister would not come to see me, for she acted so strange, I was afraid of her. She replied, " do not care for her ; she always does just so, but we do not mind her ; you must be careful what you say," she continued, " for if you speak of her before any of tiie sisters, they may get you into trouble." (I 28 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. I i: When I began to get better, I had a sharp appe- tite for food, and was hungry a great part of the time. One of the sisters used to bring me a piece of bread concealed under her cape and hide it under my pillow. How she obtained it, I do not know, unless she saved it from her own allowance. It was very easy for her to hide it in this way, for the nuns always walk with one hand under their cape and the other by the side. Truly, in this instance, " bread eaten in secret " was " pleasant." Of all the luxuries I ever tasted, those stolen bits of bread were the sweetest. During my illness I thought a great deal about my father, and wondered why he did not come to see me, as he had promised. I used to cry for him in my sleep, and very often awoke in tears. St. Bridget sought in every possible way to make me forget him, and the priest would tell me that I need not think so much about him, for he no longer cared for me. He said the devil had got him, and I would never see him again. These cruel words, so far from making me forget, served to awaken a still greater desire to see him, and increased my grief because I was denied the privilege. In the room with me, were six other little girls, who were all sick at the same time, and St. Bridget took care of r** all. For two of the little girls, I felt the greatest sympathy. They were quite young, I think not more than three years of age, and they grieved continually. They made no complaint, did not even shed a tear, but they sobbed all the time, r I HARD FATE. 29 whether asleep or awake. Of their history, I could learn nothing at that time, except the fact, that they were taken from their parents for the good of their souls. I afterwards overheard a conversation that led me to think that they were heirs to a large property, which, if they were out of the way, would go to the church. But it is of what I know, and not what I think, that I have undertaken to write, and I do know that the fate of those little girls was hard in the extreme, whatever might have been the cause of their being there. Poor little creatures ! No wonder their hearts were broken. Torn from parents and friends while yet in early childhood — doomed while life is spared, to be subject to the will of those who know no mercy — who feel no pity, but consider it a religious duty to crush, and destroy all the pure affections — all the exquisite sensibilities of the human soul. Yet to them these hapless babes must look for all the earthly happi- ness they could hope to enjoy. They were taught to obey them in all things, and consider them their only friends and protectors. I never saw them after I left that room, but Ihey did not live long. I was glad they did not, for in the cold grave their sufferings would be over and they would rest in peace. O, how little do Protestants know the sufferings of a nun ! and truly no one can know them except by personal experience. One may imagine the most aggravated form of cruelty, the most heart- rending agonies, yet I do believe the conception 3* 30 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. '. JR of the most active imagination would fall far short of the horrible reality. I do not believe there was one happy individual in that convent, or that any one there, if I except the lady Superior, knew anything of enjoyment. Life with them was a continual round of ceaseless toil and bitter self-denial ; while each one had some secret grief slowly but surely gnawing away the heart-strings. I have some- times seen the Abbess sitting by the bedside of the sick, with her eyes closed, while the big tears fell unchecked over her pale cheeks. When I asked her why she wept, she would shake her head, b it never speak. I now know that she dare not spealc for fear of punishment. The abbesses in the various parts of this con- vent are punished as much as the nuns, if they dare to disobey the rules of the pri ^sts ; and if the least of these are broken in the presence of any one in the house, they will surely tell of it at confession. In fact, they are required to do this ; and if it is known that one has seen a rule broken, or a com- mand disobeyed, without reporting it, a severe punishment is sure to follow. Thus every individ- ual is a spy upon the rest ; and while every failure is visited with condign punishment, the one who makes the most reports is so warmly approved, that poor human nature can hardly resist the temptation to play the traitor. Friendship cannot exist within the walls of a convent, for no one can be trusted, even with the most trifling secret. Whoever ven- tures to try it is sure to be betrayed. FATHER PARITY. 31 I was one While I was sick Father Parity came often to see me, and by his kindness succeeded in gaining my affections. I was a great favorite with him ; he always called me his little girl, and tried in every way to make me contented. He wished to make me say that I was happy there, that I liked to live with them as well as with my father. But I could never be persuaded to say this, for it was not the truth, and I would not tell a falsehood unless forced to do so. He said I must be a good girl, and he hoped I would sometime see better times, but I could never see my father again, and I must not desire it. He advised me, however hard it might be, to try and love all who came into the nunnery, even those who were unkind, who wished to injure me or wound my feelings. He told me how Jesus Christ loved his enemies ; how he died for them a cruel death on the cross ; how, amid his bitter agonies, he prayed for them, and with his expiring breath he cried, " Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." "And now," said he, " can you do as Jesus Christ did ? He has set you an example, can you not follow it ? " " No, sir," I replied, " I cannot love those who punish me so cruelly, so unjnstly. I cannot love the little girl who reported wiiat I said in the yard, when she said as bad things as I did." " But you for- get," said he, " that in doing this she only obeyed the rules of the house. She only did her duty ; if you Ijad done yours, you would have reported her." " I'll never do that," I exclaimed, iemboldened by tf mmtasAsmmmm 32 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. i^ r his kindness. " It is a bad rule, and — " " Hush, hush, child ! " he cried, interrupting me. " Do you know to whom you are speaking? and do you forget that you are a little girl ? Are you wiser than your teachers ? I must give you a penance for those naughty words, and you will pray for a better spirit." He said much more to me, and gave me good advice that I remember much bettor than I followed. He enjoined it upon me to keep up good courage, as I would gain my health faster. He then bade me farewell, telling me not to forget to repeat certain prayers as a penance for my sin in speaking so boldly. O, did he think when he talked to me so kindly, so faithfully, that it was his last opportunity to give me good advice ? Did he know that he left me to return no more ? I saw nothing unusual in his appearance, and I did not suspect that it was the last time I should see his pleasant face and listen to his kindly voice. I loved that man, and bitter were the tears I shed when I learned that I should never see him again. The Abbess informed me that he was sent away for something he had done, she did not know what. O that something ! I knew well enough %vhat it was. He had a kind heart ; he could feel for the unfortunate, ai?d that, with the Roman Catholics, is an << unpardonable sin." V , CHAPTER V. CEREMONY OF CONFIRMATION. I CONTINUED to regain rxiy health slowly, and the Abbess said they would soon send me back to the nursery. I could not endure the thought of this, for I had the greatest fear of the Abbess who had the charge of that department. She was very cruel, while St. Bridget was as kind as she dare to be. She knew full well that if she allowed herself to exhibit the least feeling of affection for those chil- dren, she would be instantly removed, and some one placed over them who would not give way to such weakness. "We all saw how it was, and loved her all the more fr»r the severity of her reproofs when any one was near. With tears, therefore, I begged to be allowed to stay with her ; and when the priest came for me, she told him that she thought I had better remain with her till I gained a little more strength. To this he consented, and I was very grateful indeed for the kindness. Wishing in some way to express my gratitude, as soon as I was able I assisted in taking care of the other little girls as much as possible. St. Bridget, in turn, taught me to read a little, so that I could learn my prayers .^. f 34 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. I ' when away from her. She also gave me a few easy lessons in arithmetic, and instructed me to speak the Celt language. She always spoke in that, or the Frencli, which I could speak before, having learned it from the family where I lived after my father gave up his saloon. They were French Catholics and spoke no other language. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered to leave my room, I was taken to the chapel to be confirmed. Before they came for me, the abbess told me what questions would be asked, and the answers I should be required to give. She said they would ask me if I wished to see my father ; if I should like to go back to the world, etc. To these and similar ques- tions she said I must give a negative answer. " But," said I, " that will be a falsehood, and I will not say so for any of them." " Hush, hush, child!" she exclaimed, with a frightened look. " You must not talk so. From my heart I pity you ; but it will be better for you to answer as I tell you, for if you refuse they will punish you till you do. Remember," she added, emphatically, " remember what I say : it will be better for you to do as I tell you." And she made me promise that I would. " But why do they wish me to tell a lie ? " I asked. " They do not wish you to tell a lie," she replied ; " they wish you to do right, and feel right ; to be contented and willing to forget the world." " But I do not wish to forget the world," I said. " I am not contented, and saying that I am will not make me feel so. Is it right to INSTRUCTION. 35 tell a lie ? " " It is right for you to obey," she replied, with more severity in her tone than I ever heard before. "Do you know," she continued, " that it is a great sin for you to talk so ? " "A sin!" I exclaimed, in astonishment; "why is it a sin ? " " Because," she replied, " you have no right to inquire why a command is given. Whatever the church commands, we must obey, and that, too, without question or complaint If we are not willing to do this, it is the duty of the Bishop and the priests to punish us until we are willing. All who enter a convent renounce forever their own will." " But I did n't come here myself," saM I ; " my father put me here to stay a few years. When I am eighteen I shall go oat again." " That does not make any difference," she replied. " You are here, and your duty is obedience. But my dear,'* she continued, " I advise you never again to speaE of going out, for it can never be. By indulging such hopes you are preparing yourself for a great disappointment. By speaking of it, you will, I assure you, get yourself into trouble. You may not find others so indulgent as I am ; therefore, for your own sake, I hope you will relinquish all idea of ever leaving the convent, and try to be contented." Such was the kind of instruction I received at the White Nunnery. I did not feel as much disappointed at the information that I was never to go into the world again as she had ex- pected. I had felt for a long time, almost, indeed, from my first entrance, that such would be my ^' ! I 86 LIFE IN THE OREY NUNNERY. : Il < ; v i / I fate, and though deeply grieved, I was able to con- trol my feelings. The great day at length came for which the Abbess had been so long preparing me. I say great, for in our monotonous life, the smallest cir- cumstance seemed important. Moreover, I was assured that my future happiness depended very much upon the answers, I that day gave to the various questions put to me. When about to be taken to the chapel, St. Bridget begged the priest to be careful and not frighten me, lest it should bring on my fits again. I was led into the chapel and made to kneel before the altar. The bishop and five priests were present, and also, a man whom I had never seen before, but I was told he was the Pope's Nuncio, and that he came a long way to visit them. I think this was true, for they all seemed to regard him as a superior. I shall never forget my feelings when he asked me the following questions, which I answered as I had been directed. " Who do you believe in ? " " God." ** How many persons are there in God ?" "Three; the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost" « What world have you lately left?" " The world of sin and Satan." " Do you wish to go back and iive with your father?" "No Sir." "Do you think you can live all your life with us." " I think I can, sir." He then said, " You will not fare any better than you have hitherto, and perhaps not as well." It was with the greatest difficulty that I could control my feelings sufficiently to answer FALSEHOOD. n? this last question. But remembering what the Abbess had told me, I suppressed my tears, and choked down the rising sob. Surely those men must have known that I was telling a falsehood — that the profession I made was not in accordance with my real sentiments. For myself, I then felt, and still feel that the guilt was not mine. The sin did not rest with me. The Bishop was then told to hear my confes- sion, after which, a priest took some ointment from a small box, and rubbed it on my forehead, and another priest came with a towel and wiped it off. I was then taken back to St. Bridget, with whom I remained, as long as I was in the White Nun- nery. On my tenth birth-day, the Bishop came to the Abbess very early in the morning, and informed her that I was to take the White Veil that day, and immediately after the ceremony, I would leave for the Grey Nunnery iu Montreal. He desired her to make all the necessary preparation, and take her leave of me, as she would not see me again. This was sad news for us both, for I felt that she was my only friend, and I knew that she felt for me, the most sincere affection. She gave me much good advice in refei^nce to my future conduct, and with tears exhorted me to be kind, cheerful, and obedient. I was going to a new place, she said, and if I was a good girl, and sought to please my superiors, I would find some one to be kind to me. She advised me to try and 4 .j:^.:^.z:i 38 LIFE IN THE GBEY NUNNERY. {\ appear contented in whatever situation I might be placed, and above all other considerations, never disobey the least command. " Obedience," she again repeated, '' is the rule in all convents, and it will be better for you to obey at once, and cheerfully, and willingly comply with every request, than to incur displeasure and perhaps punishment, by any appearance of reluctance or hesitation. If there is any one thing that you dislike to do, be sure that you do not betray your feelings, for if you do, that will be the very thing they will require of you ; and I assure you, if you once become the object of suspicion or dislike, your condition will be anything but agreeable. You will be marked and watched, and required to do many unpleasant things, to say the least. Therefore I hope you will perform all your duties with a cheerful and willing spirit." Bitterly did I grieve at the thought of being separated from the only being on earth who seemed to care for me. In the anguish of the moment, 1 wished I might die. St. Bridget reproved me, saying encouragingly that death was the coward's refuge, sought only by those who had not the resolution to meet, endure, or over- come the trials of life. She exhorted me to courage, perseverance and self denial, saying that if I fought life's battle bravely, I would have my reward. She changed all my clothes, and assisted me to put on a white dress and cape, and a white cap and veil. She then gave me a card of good beha- LITTLE IBISH GIBLS. 39 vior, embraced me for the last time, and led me out to the Bishop, who was waiting to conduct me to the chapel where the cerenn.ony was to be performed. I there met ten other little girls, who, like myself, were compelled to take upon themselves vows they did not understand, and thus, by an apparently voluntary act, consign themselves to slavery for life. They were all strangers to me, sent here, as I afterwards learned, from some nunnery in Ire- land, where they had friends who were too solici- tous for their welfare. The priests do not wish the nuns to see friends from the world, and they will frame almost any plausible excuse to prevent it. But when the friends become too urgent, as they sometimes do, and their inventive powers are taxed too severely, or if the task of furnishing so many excuses become too irksome, the poor hap- less victims are sent off to some other nunnery, and the friends are told that they were not con- tented, and wished to go to some other place, and that they, generous creatures that they are, have at length, after much solicitation, kindly consented to their removal. And this too, when they know that these very girls are grieving their tlives away, for a sight of those dear friends, who, they are con- fidently assured, are either dead, or have entirely forgotten them ! Can the world of woe itself fur- nish deceit of a darker dye ? The Bishop led me up to the altar, and put a lighted candle into my hand. He then went down ^ a 40 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. .^1 'li under the altar, on which a lighted candle was placed, and soon returned followed by two little boys whom they called apostles. They held, each, a lighted torch with which they proceeded to light two more candles. On a table near the altar, stood a coffin, and soon two priests entered, bear- ing another coffin, which they placed beside the other. A white cloth was spread over them, and burning candles placed at the head and foot. These movements frightened me exceedingly, for I thought they were going to kill me. Forgetting in my terror that I was not allowed to speak, I asked the Bishop if he was going to kill me. " Kill you ! " he exclaimed, " O no ; don't be frightened ; I shall pot hurt you in the least. But it is our custom, when a nun takes the veil, to lay her in a coffin to show that she is dead to the world. Did not St. Bridget tell you this ? " I told him she did not, but I did not dare to tell him that I supposed she felt so bad when she found I must leave her, that she entirely forgot it. He then asked very pleasantly, which of the two coffins I liked the best, saying I could have my choice. I replied, " I have no choice." This was true, for although he assured me to the contrary, I still believed he was about to kill me, and I cared very little about my coffin. They were both large enough for a grown person, and beautifully finished, with a large silver plate on the lid. The Bishop took me up in his arms, and laid me in one of them, and bade me close my eyes. A MEMENTO OF DEATH. 41 I lay in that coffin a long time, as it seemed to me, without the least motion. I was so much alarmed, I felt as though I could not even lift a finger. Meantime the Bishop and priests read alter- nately from a book, but in a language I could not understand. Occasionally they would come and feel my hands and feet, and say to each other, " She is very cold." I believe they were afraid I should die in their hands, of fear. "When at last they took me up, they told me that I would carry that coffin to Montreal with me — that I would be laid in it when robed for the jg^rave — and that my bones would moulder to J \ i it. I shall never forget the impression tht y. vvords made on my mind. There was something so horrible in the thought of carrying a coffin about with me all my life, con- stantly reminding me of the shortness of time, and the sure approach of death, I could not endure it. Gladly would I have left it, costly and elegant as it was, choosing rather to run the risk of being buried without one, but this was not allowed. I could have no choice in the matter. These ceremonies concluded, I was taken to a small room, and a woman assisted me to change my clothes again, and put on the Grey Nunnery suit. This consisted of a grey dress and shoes, and a black cap. Each nunnery has a peculiar dress which every nun is required to wear. Thus, on meeting one of them, it is very easy to teli what establishment she belongs to, and a run-awfty is easily detected. On leaving the chapel, I was lUMuMMHiMM 1.;- V mi 42 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. taken to the steamboat, with the other ten girls, accompanied by a pri t. Our coffins were packed in cotton, and placed on the boat with us. On our arrival at Montreal, we found a priest and two nuns waiting for us to conduct us to the nunnery. ■I r CHAPTER VI. THE GREY NUNNERY. The Grey Nunnery is situated on St. Paul Street, Montreal. It is four stories high, besides the basement. It occupies a large space of ground, I do not know how much, but it is a very extensive building. The roof is covered with tin, with a railing around it, finished at the top with sharp points that look like silver, about a foot in length, and three feet apart. Over the front door there is a porch covered with a profusion of climbing plants, which give it a beautiful appearance. The building stands in a largo yard, surrounded on all sides by a high fence, so high indeed, that people who pass along the street can see no part of the nunnery except the silver points on the roof. The top of this fence is also finished with long iron spikes. Every thing around the building seems expressly arranged to keep the inmates in, and intruders out. In fact it would be nearly impossi- ble for any one to gain a forcible or clandestine admittance to any part of the establishment. There are several gates in the fence, how many I do not know, but the front gate opens on St. Ann Street. Over each of the gates hangs a bell, con- mmmtim 44 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. nected with the bells in the rooms of the Superior and Abbesses, which ring whenever the gate is opened. There is alvi s a guard of two men at each gate, who walk u,^ ana down with guns upon their shoulders. While attempting to give a brief description of this building, I may as well say that it is constructed with non-conductors between the walls, so that the ringing of a bell, or the loudest shriek, could not be heard from one room to the other. The reader will p^'^ase bear this in mind, as the reason for the precaution will appear in the course of my narrative. The priest, who met us as we left the boat, con- ducted 118 to the front door and rang the bell. Soon a lady appeared, who drew a slide in the middle of the door, exposing one pane of glass. Through this she looke^, to see who was there, and when satisfied on this point, opened the door. Here let me remark, that since I left the nunnery, I have heard of another class of people who find it convenient to have a slide in their door ; and if I am not very much mistaken, the character of the two houses, or rather the people who live in them, are very much alike, whether they are nunnenes of private families, Catholics or Protestants. Honest people have no need of a slide in the door, and wb'.e there is so much precaution, may we not suppose that something behind the curtain impera- tively calls for it ? It is an old adage, but true not- withstanding, that " where there is concealment, there must be something wrong." BLACK CLOISTERS. 46^" In the hall opposite the front door were two other doors, with a ccyauderable space .between them. The right, hand 09or was opened by the door-tender, and we ejitered a room furnished in the plainest -manner, but every thing was neat, and in perfect order. Instead of chairs, on two sides of the room a long bench wa»«|Gistened to the sides of the house. They wfere nei^er painted, nor cush- ioned, but were ver^ white, $8 was also the floor, on which there was no carpet. Beside the door stood a basin of holy water, and directly opposite, an image of the Saviour extended on the cross which they call a crucifix. v^^ Here we were left a few momenti,||^^ the door-keeper came back, and asked us if weH^uld like to see the Black Cloisters ; and if so, to follow her. She led us back into the hall, and in the space between the two doors that I mentioned, she unlocked a bar, and pulling it down, touched a spring, and immediately a little square door slid back into the ceiling. Across this door, or window or whatever they called it, were strong bars of iron about one inch apart Through this aperture we were cdlowed to look, and a sad sight met my eyes. As many as fifty disconsolate looking ladies were sitting there, who were called Black Nuns, because they were preparing to take the Black Veil. They were all dressed in black, a black cap on the head, and a white bandage drawn across the forehead, to which another was attached, that passed under the chin. These bandages they always wore, and were tmimmmikmmmmmBSSggi 46 LIFE m THE GRET NUNNERY. not allowed to lay aside. They sat, each one with a book in her hand, motionless as so many statues. Not a finger did they move, not an eye was raised, but they sat gazing upon the page before them as intently as though life itself depended upon it. Our guide informed us that they were studying the * Black Book preparatory to taking the Black Veil and entering the Cloister. This book war. quite a curiosity. It was very large, with a white cover, and around the edge a black border about an inch w'de. i( I (!• . i i * " The Black Book, or Praxis Sacrce Eomanas Inquisitumia, is always the model for that which is to succeed it. This book is a large manascript volume, in folio, and is carefully preserved bj the head of the Inquisition. It is called Libro Nero, the Black Book, because it has a cover of that color ; or, as an inquisitor explained to me, Libro Necro, which, in the Greek language, signifies " The book of the dead." In this book is the criminal code, with all the punishments for every supposed crime ; also the mode of conducting the trial, so as to elicit the guilt of the accused ; and the manner of receiving accu- sations. I had this book in my hand on one occasion, and read therein the proceedings relative to my own case ; and I moreover saw in this same volume some very astounding particulars ; for example, in the list of punishments I read concerning the bit, or as it is called by us the mordacchia, which is a very simple contrivance to confine the tongue, and compress it between two cylinders composed of iron and wood and furnished with spikes. This horrible instrument not only wounds the^^gne and occasions excessive pain, but also, from the swelling it produces, frequently places the sufierer in danger of suffocation. This torture is generally had recourse to in cases considered as blasphemy against God, the Virgin, the Saints, or the Pope. So that according to the Inquisition, it is.as great a crime to speak disparagingly of a pope, who may be a very detestable character, as to blaspheme the holy name of God. Be that as it may, this torture has been in use till the present period ; and, to say THE SEPARATION. 47 m^ Our curiosity being satisfied as far as possible, we returned to the side room, where we waited long ior.the lady Superior. When at length she came, she turned to me first, as I sat next the door, and asked me if I had anything to show in proof of my former good character. I gave her my card; she looked at it, and led me to the other side of the room. The same question was asked of every girl in turn, when it was found that only four beside myself had cards of good behavior. The other six presented cards which she said were for bad behavior. They were all placed together on the other side of the room ; and as the Superior was about to lead them away, one of them came towards us saying that she did not wish to stay with those ^Is, she would rather go with us. The Superior drew her back, and replied, <* No^ child ; you cannot go with those good girls ; you would soon leam them some of your naughty ways. If you will do wrong, you must take the consequences." Then, seeing that the child really felt very bad, she said, in a kinder tone, " When you learn to do right, you shall be allowed to go nothing of the exhibitions of this nature which were displayed in Komanga, in the time of Gregory 1 6th., by the Inquis^ Ancarani — in Umbria by Stefanelii, Saiva, and others, we ma^%dmire the inquisitorial zeal of Cardinal Feretti.the cousin of hia present holi- ness, who condescended more than once to employ these means when he was bishop of Rieti and Fermo." Dealings with the lnquisition,by the Rev. Giacinto Achilli D. D., late Prior and Visitor of the Dominican Order, ilead Professor of Theology and Vicar of the master of the Sacred Appstolic Palace, etc., etc., page 81. .. j yii liM r^ I h i ! t 48 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. with good girls, but not before." T pitied the poor child, and for a long time I hoped to see her come to our room ; but she never came. They were all led off together, and that was the last I ever saw of any of them. I was taken, with the other four girls, to a room on the second floor. Here we found five cribs, one for each of us, in which we slept. Our food was brought to us regularly, consisting of one thin slice of fine wheat bread for each of us, and a small cup of milk. It was only in the morning, however, that the milk was allowed us, and for dinner and supper we had a slice of bread and a cup of water. This was not half enough to satisfy our hunger ; but we could have no more. For myself I can say that I was hungry all the time, and I know the others were also ; but we could not say so to each other. We were in that room together five weeks, yet not one word passed between us. We did some- times smile, or shake our heads, or make some little sign, though even this was prohibited, but we never ventured to speak. We were forbidden to do so, on pain of severe punishment ; and I believe we were watched all the time, and kept there, for a trial of our obedience. We were employed in peeling g soft kind of wood for beds, and filling the ticks with it. We were directed to make our own beds, keep our room in the most perfect order, and all our work in the middle of the floor. The Superior came up every morning to see that we were thoroughly washed, and every Saturday she TRIA.L OF OBEDIENCE. 49 was very particular to have our clothes and bed linen all changed. As every convenience was provided in our rooms or the closets adjoining, we were not obliged to go out for anything, and for five weeks I did not go out of that room. My bed was then brought from Quebec, and we were moved to a large square room, with four beds in it, only two of which were occupied. We were then sent to the kitchen, where in future, we were to be employed in cleaning sauce, scouring knives and forks, and such work as we were able to do. As we g.ew older, our tasks were increased with our strength. I had no regular empfoyment, but was called upon to do any of the drudgery that was to be done about the house. The Superior came to the kitchen every morning after prayers and told us what to do through the day. Then, in her presence we were allowed five minutes con- versation, a priest also being present. For the rest of the day we kept a profound silence, not a word being spoken by any of us unless in answer to a question from some of our superiors. In one part of the building there was a school for young ladies, who were instructed in the various branches of education usually taught in Catholic schools. Many of the scholars boarded at the nunnery, and all the cooking and washing was done in the kitchen. We also did the cooking for the saloons in Montreal. If this did not keep us em- ployed, there were corn brooms and brushes to make, and thus every moment was fully occupied. 5 i 60 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERr. Not a moment of leisure, no rest, no recreation, but hard labor, and the still more laborious religious exercises, filled up the time. It was sometimes very annoying to me to devote so many hours to mere external forms; for I felt, even when very young, that they were of little worth. But it was a severe trial to our temper to make so many pies, cakes, puddings, and all kinds of rich food, which we were never allowed to taste. The priests, supe- riors, and the scholars had every luxury they de- sired ; but the nuns, who prepared all their choice dainties, were never permitted to taste anything but bread and water. I am well aware that this statement will seem incredible, and that many will doubt the truth of it ; but I repeat it : the nuns in the Grey Nunnery, or at least those in the kitchen with me, were allowed no food except bread and water, or, in case of illness, water grueL I CHAPTER VII. orphan's home. The Grey Nunnery is said to be an orphan's home, and no effort is spared to make visitors believe that this is the real character of the house. I suppose it is true that one part of it is devoted to this purpose ; at least my Superior informed me that many children were kept there ; and to those apartments visitors are freely admitted, but never to that part occupied by the nuns. We were never allowed to con municate with people from the world, nor with the children. In fact, during all the time I was there, I never saw one of them, nor did I ever enter the rooms where they were. In the ladies' school there were three hundred scholars, and in our part of the house two hundred and fifty nuns, besides the children who belonged to the nunnery. Add to these the abbesses, supe- riors, priests, and bishop, and one will readily imagine that the work for suqh a family was no trifling affair. In this nunnery the Bishop was the highest authority, and everything was under his direction, unless the Pope's Nuncio, or some other high church functionary was present I sometimes saw ,,f«^^"*-:- ^r 52 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. y f one whom they called the Archbishop, who was treated with great deference by the priests, and even by the Bishop himself. The Holy Mother, or Lady Superior, has power over all who have taken or are preparing to take the veil. Under her other superiors or abbesses are appointed over the various departments, whose duty it is to look after the nuns and novices, and the children in training for nuns. The most rigid espionage is kept up throughout the whole estab- lishment ; and if any of these superiors or abbesses fail to do the duty assigned them, they are more severely punished than the nuns. Whenever the Lady Superior is absent the punishments are as- signed by one of the priests. Of these there were a large number in the nunnery ; and when- ever we chanced to meet one of them, as we some- times did when going about the house, or when- ever one of them entered the kitchen, we must immediately fall upon our knees. No matter what we were doing, however busily employed, or however inconvenient it might be, every thing must be left or set aside, that this senseless ceremony might be performed. The priest must be honored, and woe to the poor nun who failed to move with sufficient alacrity ; no punishment short of death itself was thought too severe for such criminal neglect. Sometimes it would happen that I would be engaged in some employment with my back to Ihe door, and not observe the entrance of a priest until the general movement around me would EAST LIFE OF PRIESTS AND SUPERIORS. 53 arrest my attention; then I would hasten to " make my manners," as the ceremony was called ; but all too late. I had been remiss in duty, and no excuse would avail, no apology be accepted, no forgiveness granted ; the dreaded punishment must come. While the nuns are thus severely treated, the priests, and the Holy Mother live a very easy Ufe, and have all the privileges they wish. So far as the things of this world are concerned, they seem to enjoy themselves very well. But I have some* times wondered if conscience did not give them occasionally, an unpleasant twinge; and from some things I have seen, I believe, that with many of them, this is the fact. They may try to put far from them all thoughts of a judgment to come, yet I do believe that their slumbers are sometimes disturbed by fearful forebodings of a just retribu- tion which may, after all, be in store for them. But whatever trouble of mind they may have, they do not allow it to interfere with their worldly pleasures, and expensive luxuries. They have money enough, go when, and where they please, eat the richest food and drink the choicest wines. In short, if sensual enjoyment was the chief end of their existence, I do not know how they could act otherwise. The Abbesses are sometimes allowed to go out, but not unless they have a pass from one of the priests, and if, at any time, they have reason to suspect that some one is dis- 5* 54 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. contented, they will not allow any one to go out of the building without a careful attendant. My Superior here, as in the White Nunnery, was very kind to me. I sometimes feared she would share the fate of Father Darity, for she had a kind heart, and was guilty of many benevolent acts, which, if known, would have subjected her # to very ^ious consequences. I became so much attached to her, that my fears for her were always alarmed when she called me her good little girl, or used any such endearing expression. The sequel of my story will show that my fears were not unfounded; but let me not anticipate. Sorrows will thicken fast enough, if we do not hasten them. I lived with this Superior one year before I was consecrated, and it was, comparatively, a happy season. I was never punished unless it was to save me from less merciful hands; and then I would be shut up in a closet, or some such simple thing. The other four girls who occupied the room with me, were consecrated at the same time. The Bishop came to our room early one morn- ing, and took us to the chapel. At the door we were made to kneel, and then crawl on our hands and knees to the altar, wh^^re sat a man, who we were told, was the Archbishop. Two little boys came up from under the altar, with the vesper lamp to burn incense. I suppose they were young Apostles, for they looked very much like those we had seen at the White Nunnery, and were dressed CEREMONY OF CONSECRATION. 65 in the same manner. The Bishop turned his back, and they threw incense on his head and shoulders, until he was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He bowed his head, smote upon his breast, and repeated something in latin, or some other lan- guage, that v/e did not understand. We were told to follow his example, and did so, as nearly as possible. This ceremony over, the Bfthop told us to go up on to the altar on our knees, and when this feat was performed to his satisfaction, he placed a crown of thorns upon each of our heads These crowns were made of bands of i^ome firm material, which passed over thi. head and around the forehead. On the inside thorns were fastened, with the points downward, so that a very slight pressure would cause them to pierce the skin. This I suppose is intended to imitate the crown of thorns which our Saviour wore upon the cross. But what will it avail them to imitate the crucifix- ion and the crown of thorns, while justice and mercy are so entirely neglected? What will it avail to place a crown of thorns upon a child's head, or to bid her kneel before the image of the Saviour, or travel up stairs on her knees, while the way of salvation by Christ is never explained to her ; while of real religion, holiness of heart, and purity of life she is as ignorant as the most benighted, degraded heathen? Is it rational to suppose that the mere act of repeating a prayer can heal the wounded spirit, or give peace to a troubled conscience ? Can the most cruel penance # ^6 LIFE IN THE OBEY NUNNERY. remove the sense of guilt, or whisper hope to the desponding soul? Ah, no! I have tried it long enough to speak v^rith absolute certainty. For years I practiced these senseless murameries, and if there were any virtue in therii, I should, most certainly have discovered it. But I know full well, and my reader knows that they cannot satisfy the III restless ]|^arnings of the immortal mind. They may delude the vulgar, but they cannot dispel the darkness of the tomb, they cannot lead a soul to Christ. On leaving the chapel after the ceremony, I found a new Superior, waiting for us at the door to conduct us to our rooms. We were all very much surprised at this, but she informed us that our old Superior died that morning, that she was already buried, and she had come to take her place. I could not believe this story, for she came to us as usual that morning, appeared in usual health, though always very pale, and made no complaint, or exhibited any signs of illness. She told us in her kind and pleasant way that we were to be consecrated, gave us a few words of advice, but said nothing about leaving us, and I do not \'ielieve she even thought of such a thing. Little d\d I think, when she left us, that I was never to se^ her again. But so it was. In just two hours and a half from that time, we were told that she was dead and buried, and another filled her place ! A probable story, truly ! I wonder if they thought we believed it ! But whether we did or not, that ^'"*^"« MIDNIGHT PRAYERS. 57 was all we could ever know about it. No allusion was ever made to the subject, and nuns are not allowed to ask questions. However excited we might feel, no information could we seek as to the manner of her death. Whether she died by dis- ease, or by the hand of violence ; whether her gen- tle spirit peacefully winged its way to the bosom of its God, or was hastily driven forth upon the dagger's point, whether some kind friend closed her eyes in death, and decently robed her cold limbs for the grave, or whether torn upon the agonizing rack, whether she is left to moulder away in some 'iungeon's gloom, or thrown into the quickly con- suming fire, we could never know. These, and many other questions that might have been asked, will never be answered until the last great day, when the grave shall give up its dead, and the prison disclose its secrets. After the consecration we were sepdrated, and only one of the girls remained with me. The others I never saw again. We were put into a large room where were three beds, one large and two small ones. In the large bed the Superior slept, while I occupied one of the small beds and the other little nun the other. Our new Superior was very strict, and we were severely punished for the least trifle — such, for instance, as making a noise, either in our own room or in the kitchen. \/e might not even smile, or make motions to each othc , or look in each other's face. We must keep our eyes on our work or on the floor, in token ^ A^ '^P'>n:^^%: 68 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. of humility. To look a person full in the face was considered an unpardonable act of boldness. On retiring for the night we were required to lie perfectly motionless. We might not move a hand or foot, or even a finger. At twelve the bell rang for prayers, when we must rise, kneel by our b< ds, and repeat p.rayers until the second bell, when we again retiied to rest. On cold winter nights thepe midnight prayers were a most cruel penance. It did seem as though 7 r liould fireeze to death. But live or die, the prayers imist be. said, and the Supe- rior was always there to see that we were not remiss in duty. If she rilept at all I am sure it must have been v/ith one eye open, for she saw everything. But if I obeyed in this thing, I found it impossible to He as still as they required; I would move when I was asleep without knowing it. This of course could not be allowed, and for many weeks I was strapped down to my bed every night, until I could sleep without the movement of a muscle. I was very anxious to do as nearly right as possible, for I thought if they saw that I strove with all my might to obey, they would per- haps excuse me if I did fail to conquer impossibil- ities. In this, however, I was disappointed ; and I at length became weary of trying to do right, for they would inflict severe punishments for the most trifling accident. In fact, if I give anything like a correct account of my convent life, it will be lit- tle else than a history of punishments. Painsy t-' PENANCE THE RULE. 69 trid^f prayers, and mortifications filled lip the time. Penance was the rule, to escape it the exception. I neglect ^ I at the proper time to state what name rf'M ^ivea jr e when I took the veil; I may there- fore as well say in this place that my convent name was Sister Agnes. %. CHAPTER VIII. I' I .1 ( ii- CONFESSION AND SORROW OF NO AVAIL. It was a part of my business to wait upon the priests in their rooms, carry them water, clean towels, wine-glasses, or anything they needed. When entering a priest's room it was customary for a child to knock twice, an adult four times, and a priest three times. This rule I was very careful to observe. Whenever a priest opened the door I was required to courtesy, and fall upon my knees ; but if it was opened by one of the waiters this ceremony was omitted. These waiters were the boys I have before mentioned, called apostles. It was also a part of my business to wait upon them, carry them clean frocks, etc. One day I was carrying a pitcher of water to one of the priests, and it being very heavy, it required both my hands and nearly all my strength to keep it upright. On reaching the door, how- ever, I attempted to hold it with one hand (as I dare not set it down), while I rapped with the other. In so doing I chanced to spill a little water on the floor. Just at that moment the door was opened by the priest himself, and when he saw the water he was very angry. He caught me by the FIRST PUMISHMEKT. 61 arm and asked what punishment he should inflict upon me for being so careless. I attempted to explain how it happened, told him it was an acci- dent, that I was very sorry, and would try to be more careful in future. But I might as well have said that I was glad, and would do so again, for my confession, sorrow, and promises of future obe- dience were entirely thrown away, and might as well have been kept for some one who could appre- ciate the feeling that prompted them. He immediately led me out of his room, it being on the second floor, and down into the back yard. Here, in the centre of the gravel walk, was a grate where they put down coal. This grate he raised and bade me go down. I obeyed, and descending a feW^steps found myself in a coal cellar, the floor being covered with it for some feet in depth. On this we walked some two rods, perhaps, when the priest stopped, and with a shovel that stood near cleared away the coal and lifted a trap door. Through this we descended four or five steps, and proceeded along a dark, narrow passage, so low we could not stand erect, and the atmosphere so cold and damp it produced the most uncomforta- ble sensations. By the light of a small lantern which the priest carried in his ha^d, I was enabled to observe on each side the passag* ^mall doors, a few feet apart, as far as I could see. jBome of them were open, others shut, and the key upon the outside. In each of these doors there w^ a small ouening; with iron bars across it, through 1 1' i '1 1- ■VI < 1 i \ ? \ ''^ ' :| 1 11. i •■ 62 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. which the prisoner received food, if allowed to have any. One of these doors I was directed to enter, which I did with some difficulty, the place being so low, and I was trembling with cold and fear. The priest crawled in after me and tied me to the back part of th^ cell, leaving me there in midnight darkness, and locking the door after hiAi. I could hear on all sides, as it seemed to me, the sobs, groans, and shrieks of other prisoners, some of whom prayed earnestly for death to release them from their sufferings. For twenty-four hours I was left to bear as I best could the pains and terrors of cold, hunger, darkness, and fatigue. I could neither sit or lie down, and every one knows how very painful it is to stand upon the feet a long time, even when the position can be slightly changed ; how much more so when no change can be effected, but the same set of muscles kept continually on the stretch for the space of twenty-four hours ! Moreover, I knew not how long I should be kept there. The other prisoners, whose agonizing cries fell upon my ears, were evidently suffering all the horrors of starva* tion. "Was I to meet a fate like this? Were those terrible sufferings in reserve for me ? How could I endure them ? And then came the thought so often present with me while in the convent, " If there is a God in heaven, why does He permit such things ? What have I done that I should become the victim of such cruelty? God of mercy ! " I involuntarily exclaimed, " save me fri m this terrible death." PRAYER ANSWERED. 63 "s, some My prayer was heard, my petition granted. At the close of twenty-four hours, the Lady Superior came and released mc from my prison, told me to go to the priest and ask his forgiveness, and then go to my work in the kitchen. I was very faint and weak from my long fast, and I resolved never to offend again. I verily thought I could be careful enough to escape another such punishment. But I had not been in the kitchen one hour, when I chanced to let a plate fall upon the floor. It was in no way injured, but I had broken the rules by making a noise, and the Superior immediately reported me to the priest. He soon appeared with his bunch of keys and a dark lantern in his hand. He took' me by the ear which he pinched till he brought tears to my eyes, saying, " You don't try to do well, and I'll make you suffer the conse- quences." I did not reply, for I had learned" that to answer a priest, or seek to vindicate myself, or even to explain how things came to be so, was in itself a crime, to be severely punished. However unjust their treatment, or whatever my feelings might be, I knew it was better to suffer in silence. Unlocking a door that opened out of the kitchen, and still keeping hold of my ear, he led me into a dark, gloomy hall, with black walls, and opening a door on the right, he bade me enter. This room was lighted by a candle, and around the sides, large iron hooks with heavy chains attached to them, were driven into the wall. At the back part of the room, he opened the door, and bade me «>- M t ii ■it 64 LIFE IN THK GREY NUNNERY. enter a small closet. He then put a large iron ring over my head, and pressed it down upon my shoulders. Heavy weights were placed in my hands, and I was told to stand up straight, and hold them fifteen minutes. This I could not do. Had my life depended upon the effort, I could not have stood erect, with those weights in my hands. The priest, however, did not reprove me. Perhaps he saw that I exerted all my strength to obey, for he took out his watch, and slowly counted the minutes as they passed. Ere a third part of the time expired, he was obliged to release me, for the blood gushed from my nose and mouth, and I began to feel faint and dizzy. The irons were removed, and the blood ceased to flow. I was then taken to another room, lighted like the other, but it was damp and cold, and pervaded by a strong, fetid, and very offensive odor. The floor was of wood, and badly stained with blood. At least, I thought it was blood, but there was not light enough to enable me to say positively what it was. In the middle of the room, stood two long tables, on each of which, lay a corpse, covered with a white cloth. The priest led me to these tables, removed the cloth and bade me look upon the face of the dead. They were very much ema- ciated, and the features, even in death, bore the impress of terrible suffering. We stood there a few moments, when he again led me back to his own room. He then asked me what I thought of what I had seen. Having taken no food for more FEARFUL 8UQ0ESTI0NS. 66 than twenty-four hours, I replied, " I am so hungry, I can think of nothing else." " How would you like to eat those dead bodies ? " he asked. *^ I would starve, Sir, before I would do it," I replied. " Would you?" said he, with a slight sneer. " Yes indeed," I exclaimed, striving to suppress my indig- nant feelings. *' What ! eat the flesh of a corpse ? You do not mean it. I would starve to death first ! " Frightened at my own temerity in speak- ing so boldly, I involuntarily raised my eye. The peculiar smile upon his face actually chilled my blood with terror. He did not, however, seem to notice me, but said, '^ Do not be too sure; I have seen others quite as sure as you are, yet they were glad to do it to save their lives ; and remember," he added significantly, '< you will do it too if you are not carefuL" He then ordered me to return to the kitchen. At ten o'clock in the morning, the nuns had a slice of bread and cup of water ; but, as I had been fasting, they gave me a bowl of gruel, composed of indian meal and water, with a little salt. A poor dinner this, for a hungry person, but I could have no more. At eleven, we went to mass in the chapel as usual. It was our custom to have mass every day, and I have been told that this is true of all Romish establishments. Re- turning to my work in the kitchen, I again resolved that I would be so careful, that, in future they should have no cause for complaint. For two days I succeeded. Yes, for two whole days, I 6* i 66 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. HI i I escaped punishment. This I notice as somewhat remarkable, because I was generally punished every day, and sometimes two or three times in a day. On the third morning, I was dusting the furni- ture in the room occupied by the priest above mentioned, who treated me so cruelly. The floor being uncarpeted, in moving the chairs I chanced to make a slight noise, although I did my best to avoid it. He immediately sprang to his feet, exclaiming, " You careless dog ! What did you do that for ? " Then taking me by the arms, he gave me a hard shake, saying, " Have I not told you that you would be punished, if you made a noise ? But I see how it is with you ; your mind is on the world, and you think more of that, than you do of the convent. But I shall punish you until you do your duty better." He concluded this choice speech by telling me to "marcjbi down stairs." Of course, I obeyed, and he followed me, striking me on the head at every step, with a book he held in his hand. I thought to escape some of the blows, and hastened along, but all in vain ; he kept near me and drove me before him into the priests sitting-room. He then sent for three more priests, to decide upon my punishment. A long consultation they held upon "this serious busi- ness," as I sneeringly thought.it, but the result was serious in good earnest, I assure you. For the heinous oflenc) of making a slight noise I was to have dry peas oound upon my knees, and then be UNDERGROUND PASSAGE. 67 made to crawl to St. Patrick's church, through an underground passage, and back again. This church was situated on a hill, a little more than a quarter of a mile from the convent. Between the two buildings, on under-ground passage had been constructed, just large enough to allow a per- son to crawl through it on the hands and knees. It was so low, and narrow, that it was impossible either to rise, or turn around ; once within that pas- sage there was no escape, but to go on to the end. They allowed me five hours to go and return; and to prove that I had really been there, I was to make a cross, and two straight lines, with a bit of chalk, upon a black-board that I should find at the end. O, the intolerable agonies I endured on that ter- rible pathway ! Any description that I can give, will fail to convey the least idea of the misery of those long five hours. It may, perchance, seem a very simple mode of punishment, but let any one just try it, and they will be convinced that it was no trifling thing. At the end, I found myself in a cellar under the church, where there was light enough to enable me to find the board and the chalk. I made the mark according to orders, and then looked around for some means of escape. Alas ! There was none to be found. Strong iron bars firmly secured the only door, and a very slight examination convinced me that my case was utterly hopeless. I then tried to remove the peas from my swollen, bleeding limbs, but this, too, i found impossible. They were evidently fastened ),!; 68 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNEIIY. by a practised hand ; and I was, at length, com- pelled to believe that I must return as I came. I did return ; but O, how many times I gave up in despair, and thought I could go no further ! How many times did I stretch myself on the cold stones, in such bitter agony, that I could have welcomed death as a friend and deliverer ! What would I not have given for one glass of cold water, or even for a breath of fresh air ! My limbs seemed on fire, and while great drops of perspiration fell from my face, my throat and tongue were literally parched with thirst. But the end came at last, and I found the priest waiting for me at the entrance. He seemed very angry, and said, " You have been gone over your time. There was no need of it; you could have returned sooner if you had chosen to do so, and now, I shall punish you again, for being gone so long." At first, his reproaches grieved me, for I had done my best to please him, and 1 did so long for one word of sympathy, it seemed for a moment, as though my heart would break. Had he then spoken one kind word to me, or manifested the least compassion for my sufferings, I could have forgiven the past, and obeyed him with feelings of love and gratitude for the future. Yes, I would have done anything for that man, if I could have felt that he had the least pity for me ; but when he said he should punish me again, my heart turned to stone. Every tender emotion vanished, and a fierce hatred, a burning indignation, and thirst for revenge, took possession of mv soul. aafc; CHAPTER IX. ALONE WITH THE DEAD. The priest removed the peas from my limbs, and led me to a tomb under the chapel, where he left me, with the consoling assurance that " The dead ivould rise and eat me !" This tomb was a large rectangular room, with shelves on three sides of it, on which were the cojfiins of priests and Superiors who had died in the nunnery. On the floor under the shelves, were large piles of human bones, dry and white, and some of them crumbling into dust. In the center of the room was a large tank of water, several feet in diameter, called St. Joseph's well. It occupied the whole center of the room leaving a very narrow pathway between that, and the shelves; so narrow, indeed, that I found it impossible to^it down, and exceedingly difficult to walk or even stand still. I was obliged to hold firmly by the shelves, to avoid slipping into the water which looked dark and deep. The priest said, when ha left me, that if I fell in, I would drown, for no one could take me out. O5 how my heart thrilled with superstitious ter- ror when I heard th*^ key turn in the lock, and real- ized that I was alone with the dead I And that was ''% 70 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. ,i ; n ^-f i M I \M> cf not the worst of it. They would rise and eat me! For a few hours I stood as though paralyzed with fear. A cold perspiration covered my trembling limbs, as I watched those coffins with the most painful and serious apprehension. Every moment I expected the fearful catastrophe, and even won- dered w hich part they would devour first — whether one woi^id come alone and thus kill me by inches, or whether the y would all rise at once, and quickly make an enu of me. I even imagined I could see the cof- fins move — that I heard the dead groan and sigh and even the sound of my own chattering teeth, I fancied to be a movement among the dry bones that lay at my feet. In the extremity of terror I shrieked aloud. But this I knew was utterly use- less. Who would hear me? Or who would care if they did hear? I was surrounded by walls that no sound could penetrate, and if it could, it would fall upon ears deaf to the agonizing cry for mercy, — upon hearts that feel no sympathy for human woe. Some persons may be disposed to smile at this record of absurd and superstitious fear. But to me it v/as no laughing afiair. Had not the priest said that the dead would rise and eat me ? And did I not firmly believe that what he said was true ? What! A priest tell a falsehood? Impossible. I thought it could not be; yet as hour after hour passed away, and no harm came to me, I began to exercise my reason a little, and very soon came to the conclusion that the priests are not the immac- NO FAITH IN THE PRIEST. 71 ulate, infallible beings I had been taught to believe. Cruel and hard hearted, I knew them to be, but I did not suspect them of falsehood. Hitherto I had supposed it was impossible for them to do wrong, or to err in judgement ; all their cruel acts being done for the benefit of the soul, which in some inex- plicable way was to be benefited by the sufferings of the body. Now, however, I began to question the truth of many thin^<^s I had seen and heard, and ere long I lost all faith in them, or in the terrible system of bigotry, cruelty and fraud, which they call religion. ' As the hours passed by and my fears vanished before the calm light of reason, I gradually gained .sufficient courage to enable me to examine the tomb, thinking that I might perchance discover the body of my old Superior. For this purpose I accord- ingly commenced the circuit of the room, holding on by the shelves, and making my way slowly onward. One cofi^n I succeeded in opening, but the sight of the corpse so frightened me, I did not dare to open another. The room being brilliantly lighted with two Isgrge spermaceti candles at one end, and a gas burner at the other, I was enabled to see every feature distinctly. One of the nuns informed me that none but priests and Superiors are laid in that tomb. Whei* these die in full communion with the church, the body is embalmed, and placed here, but it some- times happens that a priest or Superior is found in the convent who does not believe all that is taught i lM. ii F i ^tli i- ■^ 72 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. i u : 5 by the church of Rome. They desire to investi- gate the subject — to seek for more light — more knowledge of the way of salvation by Christ. This, with the Romanists is a great sin, and the poor hapless victim is at once placed under punishment. If they die in this condition, their bodies are cast out ,'is heretics, but if they confess and receive abso- lution, they are placed in the tomb, but not embakned. The flesh, of course, decays, and then ^he bones are thrown under the shelves. Never /iiail I forget how frightful those bones appeared to rr ;, or the cold shudder that thrilled my frame at the sight of the numerous human skulls that lay scattered around. Twenty-four hours I spent in this abode of the dead, without rest or sleep. The attempt to obtain either would have been sheer madness, for the least mis-step, the least unguarded motion, or a slight relaxation of the firm grasp by which I held on to the shelves, would have plunged me headlong into the dark water, from which escape would have been impossible. For thirty hours I had not tasted food, and my limbs, mangled and badly swollen, were so stiff with long standing, that, when allowed to leave the tomb, I coula hardly step. When the priest came to let me out, he seemed o think it necessary to say something to cover his attempt to deceive and frighten me, but he only made a bad matter worse. He said that after he left me, he thought he would try me once more, and see if I would not do my duty better; he had, thierefore, *■-, RIDICULOUS PRETENCE. 73 willed the dead not to eat me ! and they,, obedient to his willj were compelled to let me alone ! I did not reply to this absurd declaration, lest I should say something I ought not, and again incur his dis- pleasure. Indeed, I was not expected to say any- thing, unless I returned thanks for his unparalleled kindness, and I was not hypocrite enough for that. I suppose he thought I believed all he said, but he was greatly mistaken. If I began to doubt his word while in the tomb, this ridiculous pretence only served to add contempt to unbelief, and from that time I regarded him as a deceiver, and«a vile, unscrupulous, hypocritical pretender. It was with the greatest difficulty that I again made my way to the kitchen. I was never very strong, even when allowed my regular meals, for the quantity was altogether insufficient to sat- isfy the demands of nature ; and now I had been so long without anything to eat, I was so weajt, and my limbs so stiff and swollen, I could hardly stand. I managed, however, to reach the kitchen, when I was immediately seated at the table and presented with a bowl of gruel. O, what a luxmry it seemed to me, and how eagerly did I partake of it! It was soon gone, and I looked around for a further supply. Another nun, who sat at the table with me, with a bowl of gruel before her, noticed my disappointment when I saw that I was to have no more. She was a stranger to me, and so pale and emaciated she looked more like a corpse than a living person. She had tasted a little of her 7 74 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. I ■ ; f ' gruel, but her stomach was too weak to retain it, and as soon as the Superior left us she took it up and poured the whole into my bowl, making at the same time a gesture that gave me to understand that it was of no use to her, and she wished me to eat it. I did not wait for a second invitation, and she seemed pleased to see me accept it so readily. "We dared not speak, but we had no difficulty in understanding each other. I had but just finished my gruel when the Superior came back and desired me to go up stairs and help tie a mad nun. I think she did this simply for the purpose of giving me a quiet lesson in convent life, and showing me the consequences of resistance or disobedience. She must have known that I was altogether incapable of giving the assistance she pretended to ask. But I followed her as fast as possible, and when she saw how difficult it was for me to get up stairs, she walked slowly and gave me all the time I wished for. She led me into a small room and closed the door. There I beheld fi scjjne that called forth my warmest sympathy, •and at the same time excited feelings of indigna- tion that will never be subdued while reason retains her throne. In the center of the room sat a young girl, who could not have been more than sixteen years old ; and a face and form of such perfect symmetry, such surpassing beauty, I never saw. She was divested of all her clothing except one under-garment, and her nands anA feet securely tied to the chair on which she sat. A priest stood THE MAD NUN. 75 i beside her, and as we entered he bade us assist him in removing the beds from the bedstead. They then took the nun from her chair and laid her on the bedcord. They desired me to assist them, but my heart failed me. I could not do it, for I was sure they were about to kill her ; and as I gazed upon those calm, expressive features, so pale and sad, yet so perfectly beautiful, I felt that it would be sacrilege for me to raise my hand against nature's holiest and most exquisite work. I there- fore assured them that I was too weak to render the assistance they required. At first they at- tempted to compel me to do it ; but, finding that I was really very weak, and unwilling to use what strength I had, they at length permitted me to stand aside. When they extended the poor girl on the cord, she said, very quietly, " I am not mad, and you know that I am not." To this no answer was given, but they calmly proceeded with their fiendish work. One of them tied her feet, while the other fastened a rope across her neck in such a way that if she attempted to raise her head it would strangle her. The rope was then fastened under the bedcord, and two or three times over her person. Her arms were extended, and fastened in the same way. As she lay thus, like a lamb bound for the sacrifice, she looked up at her tormentors and said, " Will the Lord permit me to die in this cruel way ? " The priest immediately exclaimed, in an angry tone, "Stop your talk, you mad woman ! " and turning to me, he bade me go back 76 LIFE IN THE ORFY NUNNERY. h i to the kitchen. It is probable he saw the impres- sion on my mind was not just what they desired, therefore he hurried me away. All this time the poor doomed nun submitted quietly to her fate. I suppose she thought it use- less, yea, worse than useless, to resist ; for any effort she might make to escape would only pro- voke them, and they would torment her the more. I presume she thought her last hour had come, and the sooner she was out of her misery the better. As for me, my heart was so filled with terror, anguish, and pity for her, I could hardly obey the command to leave the room. I attempted to descend the stairs, but was obliged to go very slowly on account of the stiff- ness of my limbs, and '>t'fore I reached the bottopi of the first flight the pries' and the Superior came out into the fcall. I Iteard them whispering to- gether, and I paused to listen. This, I know, was wrong; but I could not help it, and I was so excited I did not realize what I was doing. My anxiely for that girl overpowered every other feeling. At first I could only hear the sound of their voices ; but soon they spoke more distinctly, and I heard the words. " "What shall we do with lier ? she will never confess." In an audible tone of voice, the other replied, " "We had better finish her." How those words thrilled my soul! I knew well enough that they designed "to finish her," but to hear the purpose announced so coolly, it was horrible. Was there no way that I could save her? MADDENING THOUGHT. ^' 77 Must I stand there, and know that a fellow-crea- ture was being murdered, that a young girl like myself, in all the freshness of youth and the full- ness of health, was to be cut off in the very prime of life and numbered with the dead ; hurried out of existence and plunged, unwept, unlamr' into darkness and silence ? She had frie. doubtedly, but they would never be allovv know her sad fate, never shed a tear upon uvi grave! I could not endure the thought. I felt that if I lingered there another moment I should be in danger of madness myself; for I could not help her. I could not prevent the consummation of their cruel purpose ; I therefore hastened away, and this was the last I ever heard of that poor nun. I had never seen her before, and as I did not see her clothes, I could not even tell whether she belonged to our nunnery or not. 7* ^ !^^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 1125 •i> lU 12.2 £ Ht lU u ^ V Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STMIT WliSTIR,N.Y. 14StO (7l6)l7a-4S03 r^!^ 4^ CHAPTER X. THE SICK NUN. On my return to the kitchen I found the sick nun sitting as we left her. She asked me, by signs, if we were alone. I told her she need not fear to speak, for the Superior was two flights of stairs above, and no one else was near. << Are they all away?" she whispered. I assured her that we were quite alone, that she had nothing to fear. She then informed me ^.hat she had been nine days under punishment, that when taken from the cell she could not stand or speak, and she was still too weak to walk without assistance. *^0\" said she, and the big tears rolled over her cheeks as she said it, " I have not a Mend in the world. You do not know how my heart longs for love, for sympathy and kindness." I asked if she had not parents, or friends, in the world. She replied, << I was born in this convent, and know no world but this. You see," she continued, with a sad smile, << what kind of Mends I have here. O, if I had a frieiidf if I could feel that one human being cares for me, I should get better. But it is so long since I heard a kind word — " a sob choked her utterance. I told her I would be a friend to her as far as I WORTH OP A KIND LOOK. 79 could. She thanked me ; said she was well aware of the difficulties that lay in my way, for every expression of sympathy or kind feeling between the nuns was strictly forbidden, and if caught in anything of the kind a severe correction would fol- low. ^*But," said she "if you will give me a kind look sometimes, whenever you can do so with safety, it will be worth a great deal to me. You do not know the value of a kind look to a breaking heart" She wept so bitterly, I feared it would injure her health, and to divert her mind, I told her where I was born ; spoke of my childhood, and of my life at the "White Nunnery. She wiped away her tears, and replied, " I know all about it I have heard the priests talk about you, and they say that youi father is yet living, that your mother was a firm protestant, and that it will be hard for them to beat Catholicism into you. But I do not know how you came in that nunnery. Who put you there? " I told her that I was placed there by myj^|ti(||^ when only six years old. "Is it possible-! ^^Sfie exclaimed, and 'then added passionately, " Cuilsid^^^ your father for it." After a mon^ents silence, she continued, " Yes, child ; you have indeed cause to curse your father, and the day when you first entered the convent; but you do not suffer as much as you would if you had been bom here, and were entirely dependent on them. They fear that your firiends may sometiine look after you; and, in case they are compelled to gpraot them an i 80 LIFE IN THE GRET NUNNERY. interview, they would wish them to find you in good health and contented; but if you had no influential friends outside the convent, you would find yourself much worse off than you are now." She then said she wished she could get some of the brandy from the cellar. Her stomach was so weak from long fasting, it would retain neither food or drink, and she thought the brandy would give it strength. She asked if I could get it for her. The idea firightened me at first, for I knew that if caught in doing it, I should be most cruelly punished, yet my sympathy for her at length over- came my fears, and I resolved to try, whatever might be the result. I accordingly went up stairs, ostensibly, to see if the Superior wanted me, but really, to find out where she was, and whether she would be likely to come down, before I could have time to carry out my plan. I trembled a little, for I knew that I was guilty of a great misdemeanor in thus boldly presenting myself to ask if I was wanted ; but I thought it no very great sin to pre- tend that I thought she called me, for I was sure my motives were good, whatever they might think of them. I had been taught that <* the end sancti- fies the means," and I thought I should not be too hardly judged by the great searcher of hearts, if, for once, I applied it in my own way> I knocked gently at the door I had left bat a few moments before. It was opened by the Supe- rior, but she immediately stepped out, and closed it aj^n, so that I had no opportunity to see \(4iat STEALING BRANDT. 81 was passing within. She sternly bade me return to the kitchen, and stay there till she came down ; a command I was quite ready to obey. In the kitchen there was a small cupboard, called the key cupboard, in which they kept keys of all sizes belonging to the establishment. They were hung on hooks, each one being marked with the name of the place to which it -belonged. It was easy for me to find the key to the cellar, and having obtained it, I opened another cupboard filled with bottles and vials, where I selected one that held half a pint, placed it in a large pitcher, and has- tened down stairs. I soon found a cask marked " brandy," turned the faucet, and filled the bottle. But my heart beat violently, and my h&nd trembled so that I could not hold it steady, and some of it ran over into the pitcher. It was well for me. that I took tMs precaution, for if I had spilt it on the stone floor of the cellar, I should have been detected at once. I ran up stairs as quickly as possible, and made her drink what I had in the pitcher, though there was more of it than I should have given her under other circumstances ; but I did not know what to do with it If I put it in the fire, or in the sink, I thought they would cer- tainly smell it, and there was no other place, for I was not allowed to go out of doors. I then replaced the key, washed up my pitcher, and secreted the bottle of brandy in the waist of the nun's dress. This I could easily do, their dresses being made with a loose waist, and a large cape 82 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. worn over them. I then began to devise some way to destroy the scent in the room. I could smell it very distinctly, and I knew that the Superior would notice it at once. After trying various expedients to no purpose, I at length remembered that I had once seen a dry rag set on fire for a similar purpose. I therefore took one of the cloths from the sink, and set it on fire, let it bum a moment, and threw it under the caldron. I was just beginning to congratulate myself on my success, when I saw that the nun appeared insensible, and about to fall from her chair. I caught her in my arms, and leaned her back in the chair, but I did not dare to lay her on the bed, without permission, even if I had strength to doit. I could only draw her chair to the side of the room, put a stick of wood under it, and let h^ head rest against the wall. I was vety much frightened, and for a moment, thought she was dead. She was pale as a corpse, her eyes closed, and her month wide open. Had I really killed her? What if the Superior should find her thus? I soon found that she was not dead, for her heart beat regularly, and I began to hope she would get over it before any one came in. But just as the thought passed my mind, the door opened and the Superior appeared. Her first words were, *< What have you been burning? What smells so?** I told her there was a cloth about the sink that I thought unfit for use, and I put it under the cald- ron. She then turned towards the nun and asked RESULTS. 83 if she had fainted. «I told her that I did not know, but I thought she was asleep, and if she wished me to awaken, and assist her to bed, I would do sa To this she consented, and imme- diately went up stairs again. Glad as I was of this permission, I still doubted my ability to do it alone, for I had little, very little strength ; yet I resolved to do my best. It was long, however, before I could arouse her, or make her comprehend what I said, so entirely were her senses stupified with the brandy. When at length I succeeded in getting her upon her feet, she said she was sure she could not walk ; but I encouraged her to help her- self as much as possible, told her that I wished to get her away before any one came in, or we would be certainly found out and punished. This sug- gestion awakened her fears, and I at length suc- ceeded in assisting her to bed. She was soon in a sound sleep, and I thought my troubles for that time were over. But I was mistaken. In my fright, I had quite forgotten the brandy in her dress. Somehow the bottle was cracked, and . while she slept, the brandy ran over her clothes. The Superior saw it, and asked how she obtained it. Too noble minded to expose me, she said ^he drew it herself. I heard the Superior talking to a priest about it, and I thought they were preparing to punish her. I did not know what she had told them, but I did not think she Would expose me, and I feared, if they punished her again, she would die in their hands. ^:'y=^«ryqigey''?M»y*-^^'w;:y'«\ tt»»w i jffli!Hyffi f't 1 1 i '^' 1 84 LIFB III THE ORBT NUNNERY. I therefore went to the Superior and told her the truth about it, for I thought a candid confession on my part might, perchance, procure forgiveness for the nun, if not for myself. But no ; they punished us both ; the nun for telling the lie, and me for getting the brandy. For two hours they made me stand with a crown of thorns on my head, while they alternately employed themselves in burning me with hot irons, pinching, and piercing me with needles, pulling my hair, and striking me with sticks. All this I bore very well, for I was hurt just enough to make me angry. When I returned to the kitchen again, the nun was sitting there alone. She shook her head at me, and by her gestures gave me to understand that some one was listening. She afterwards informed me that^the Superior was watching us, to see if we would speak to each other when we met. I do not know how they punished her, but I heard a priest say that she would die if she suffered much more. Perhaps they thought the loss of that pre- cious bottle of brandy was punishment enough. But I was glad I got it for her, for she had one . good dose of it, and it did her good ; her stomach was stronger, her appetite better, and in a few weeks she regained her usual health. One day, while at work as usual, I was called up stairs with the other nuns to see one die. She lay upon the bed, and looked pale and thin, but I could see no signs of immediate dissolution. Her voice was strong, and respiration perfectly natural, GIYIN TO THE DEVIL. 85 but the nuns were all assembled in her room to see her die. Beside her stood a priest, earnestly exhorting her to confess her sins to him, and threat- ening her with eternal punishment if she refused. But nhe replied, <* No, I will not confess to you. If, as you say, I am really dying, it is with my God I have to do ; to him alone will I confess, for he alone can save.'' ** If you do not confess to me," exclaimed the priest, " I will give you up to the devil." ** Well," said she, *^ I stand in no fear of a worse devil than you are, and I am quite willing to leave you at any time, and try any other place ; Aven hell itself cannot be worse. I cannot suffer more there than I have here." ** Daughter," ex- claimed the priest, with affected sympathy, ^ must I give you up? How can I see you go down to perdition ? It is not yet too late. Confess your sins and repent." <' I have already confessed my sins to God, and I shall confess to no one else. He alone can save me." Her manner of saying this was solemn but very decided. The priest saw that she would not yield to his wishes, and raising his voice, he exclaimed, " Then let the devil take youk" Immediately the door opened, and a figure rep- resenting the Roman Catholic idea of his Satanic Majesty entered the room. He was very black, and covered with long hair, probably the skin of some wild animal. He had two long white tusks, two horns on his head, a large cloven foot, and a long taU that he drew after him on the floor. He 8 k> 86 LIFE IN THE OBEY NUNNERY. looked so frightful, and recalled to my mind so vividly the figure that I taw at the White Nunnery^ that I was very much Mghtened ; still I did not believe it was really a supernatural being. I bus* pected that it was one of the priests dressed up in that way to frighten us, and I now know that such was the fact. But what of that? We all feared the priests quite as much as we should the Evil One himself, even if he should come to us in bod- ily shape, as they pretended he had done. Mosi of the nuns were very much frightened when they saw that figure walk up to the bedside, taking good care, however, to avoid the priest, he being so very holy it was impossible for an evil spirit to go near or even look at him* The priest then ordered us to return to the kitoheui for said he, ^ The devil has come for this nun's soul, and will take it with him,'' As we left the room I looked around on my oompanions and wondered if they believed this absurd stoiy% I longed to ask them what they thought of it| bat this was not allowed. All interchange of thought or feeling being strictly forbidden, we never ven* tured to speak without permission when so many «f us were present, for some one was sure to tdl of it if the least rule was broken* I was somewhat surprised at first that wo wcra all sent to the kitchen, as but few of us w^re em- jdoyed there ; but we were soon called back again to lode at the corpse* I was iaetpresubly shocked at this soaunonSf for I had not sni^sed it possible H ONE REAL FRIEND. 87 for her to die so soon. Bat she was dead ; and that was all we could ever know about it. As we stood around the bed, the priest said she was an example of those in the world called heretics ; that her soul was in misery, and would remain so for- ever ; no masses or prayers could avail her then, for she could never be prayed out of hell. Sins like hers could never be forgiven. I continued to work in the kitchen as usual for many months after thb occurrence, and for a few weeks the sick nun was there a great part of the time. Whenever we were alone, and sure that no one was near, we used to converse together, and a great comfort it was to us both. I felt that I had found in her one real firiend, to sympathize with me in my grievous trials, and with whom I could sometimes hold communication without fear of betrayal. I had proved her, and found her faithful, therefore I did not fear to trust her. No one can imagine, unless they know by experience, how much pleasure we enjoyed in the few stolen mo- ments that we spent together. I shall never forget the last conversatioi! I had with her. She came and sat down where I was assisting another nun to finish a mat. She asked us if we knew what was going on in the house. « As I came from my room," said she, « I saw the priests and Superiors running along the halls, and they appeared so much excited, I thought some- thing must be wrong. As they passed me, they told me to go to the kitchen, and stay there. What It 88 LIFE IN THE GREY NUimERT. does it all mean ? " Of course we did not know, for we had neither seen or heard anything unusual. *' Well," said she, ** they are all so much engaged up stairs, we can talk a little and not be over- heard. I want to know something about the peo- ple in the world. Are they really cruel and cold- hearted, as the priests say they are ? When you was in the world were they unkind to you ? " " On the contrary,'' I replied, ** I would gladly return to them again if I could get away from the convent I should not be treated any worse, at all events, and I shall embrace the first opportunity to go back to the world." " That is what I have always thought since I was old enough to think at all," said she, " and I have resolved a great many times to get away if possible. I suppose they tell us about the cruelty in the world just to frighten us, and prevent us from trying to escape. I am so weiiik now I do not suppose I could walk out of Montreal even if I should leave the convent. But if I ever get strong enough, I shall certainly try to escape from this horrible place. O, I could tell you things about this convent that would curdle the blood in your veins." The other nun said that she had been once in the world, and every one was kind to her. " I shall try to get out again, some day," said she, * 92 LIFE IN THE GRET NUNNERY. left US. He did not dare take us further, lest some one might be watching for us, and find us on his boat. It was five o'clock in the morning when we left the boat, but it was a Roman Catholic village, and we did not dare to stop. All that day we pursued our way without food or drink, and at night we were tired and hungry. Arriving at a small village, we ventured to stop at the most respectable look- ing house, and asked the woman if she could keep us over night. She looked at us very attentively and said she could not. We did not dare to call again, for we knew that we were surrounded by those who would think they were doing a good work to deliver us up to the priests. Darimess came over the earth, but still weary and sleepy as we were, we pursued our lonely way. I will not repeat our bitter reflections upon a cold hearted world, but the reader will readily imagine what they were. Late in the evening, we came to an old bam. I think it must have been four or five miles firom the village. There was no house, or other building near it, and as no person was in sight, we ventured to enter. Here, to our great joy, we found a quan- tity of clean straw, with which we soon prepared a comfortable bed, where we could enjoy the lux- ury of repose. We slept quietly through the night, and at the early dawn awoke, refireshed and encouraged, but O, so hungry! Gladly would we have eaten anything in the shape of food, but noth- ing could we find. TIMELY Al ». 93 The morning star was yet shining brightly above us, as we again started on our journey. At length our hearts were cheered by the sight of a village. The first house we came to stood at some dis- tance from the other buildings, and we saw two women in a yard milking cows. We called at the door, and asked the lady for some milk. " O yes," said she, with a sweet smile, " come in, and rest awhile, and you shall have all you want." She thought we were Sisters of Charity, for they often go about visiting the sick, and praying with the people. It is considered a very meritorious act to render them assistance, and speed them on their way ; but to help a runaway nun is to commit a crime of sufficient magnitude to draw down the anathema of the church. Therefore, while we carefully concealed our real character, we grate- fully accepted the aid we so much needed, but which, we were sure would have been withheld had she known to whom it was offered. After waiting till the cows were milked, and she had finished her own breakfast, she filled a large earthen pan with bread and milk, gave each of us a spoon, and we ate as much as we wished. As we arose to depart, she gave each of us a large piece of bread to carry with us, and asked us to pray with her. We acccordingly knelt in prayer ; implored heaven's blessing on her household, and then took our leave of this kind lady, never more to meet her on earth ; but she will never te fc^T- gotten. •\£^ WV i»g*i i m»i» m una i« n iij? 94 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. That day we traveled a long distance, at least, BO it seemed to us. When nearly overcome with fatigue, we saw from the tow-path an island in the river, and upon it a small house. Near the shore a man stood beside a canoe. We made signs to him to come to us, and he immediately sprang into his canoe and came over. We asked him to take us to the island, and he cheerfully granted our request, but said we must sit very still, or we would find ourselves in the water. I did not w>nder he thought so, for the canoe was very small, and the weight of three persons sank it almost even with the surface of the river, while the least motion would cause it to roll firom side to side, so that we really felt that we were in danger of a very uncomfortable bath if nothing worse. We landed safely, however, and were kindly welcomed by the Indian family in the house. Six squaws were sitting on the floor, some of them smoking, others making shoes and baskets. They were very gayly dressed, their skirts handsomely embroidered with beads and silk of various colors. One of the girls seemed very intelligent, and con- versed fluently in the English language which she spoke correctly. But she did not look at all like an Indian, having red hair and a lighter skin than the others. She was the only one in the family that I could converse with, as the rest of them spoke only their native dialect ; but the nun who was with me could speak both French and Indian. They treated us with great kindness, gave us STARTLING INFORMATION. W^ food, and invited us to stay and live with them ; said we could be very happy there, and to induce us to remain, they informed us that the village we saw on the other side of the river, called St. Regis, was inhabited by Indians, but they were all Roman Catholics. They had a priest, and a church where we could go to Mass every Sabbath. Little did they imagine tJiat we were fleeing for life from the Romish priests ; that so far from being an induce- ment to remain with them, this information was the very thing to send us on our way with all pos- sible speed. We did not dare to stay, for I knew full well that if any one who had seen us went to confession, they woidd be obliged to give informa- tion of our movements ; and if one priest heard of us, he would immediately telegraph to all the (Hiests in the United States and Canada, and we should be watched on every side. Escape would then be nearly impossiUe, therefore we gently, but firmly refused to accept the hospitality of these good people, and hastened to bid them farewell. I asked the girl how far it was to the United States. She said it was two miles to Hogansburg, and that was in the States. We then asked the man to take us in his canoe to the village of St. Regis on the other side of the ilver. He con- sented, but, I tiiought, with some lelactance, a^d before he allowed us to land, he conversed some minutes with the Indians who met him on the shore. We could not hear what they said, but my fears were at once awakened* I bought thpy sus- '[■miff' 96 LIFE IN tHE GRET NUKNERT. pected US, and if so, we were lost. But the man came back at length, and assisted us from the boat. If he had any suspicions he kept them to himself. Soon after we reached the shore I met a man, of whom I enquired when a boat would start for Hogansburg. He gazed at us a moment, and then pointed to five boats out in the river, and said those were the last to go that day. They were then ready to start, and waited only for the tow-boat to take them along. But they were so far away we could not get to them, even if we dared risk our- selves among so many passengers. What could we do ? To stay there over night, was not to be thought of for a moment. We were sure to be taken, and carried back, if we ventured to try it Yet there was but one alternative ; either remain there till the next day, or try to get a passage on the tow-boat. It did not take me a long time to decide for myself, and I told the nun that I should go on, if the captain would take me! ** What! go on the tow-boat ! " she exclaimed,'' « There are no ladies on that boat, and I do not like to go with so many men." *< I am not afraid of the men," I replied, " if they are not Romanists, and I am resolved to go." " Do not leave me," she cried, with streaming tears. " lam sure we can get along better if we keep together, but I dare not go on the boat." " And I dare not stay here," said I, and BO we parted. I to pursue my solitary way, she to go, I know not whither. I gave her the parting THE KIND CAPTAIN. 97 hand, and have never heard from her since, but I hope she succeeded better than I did, in her efforts to escape. I went directly to the captain of the boat and asked him if he could carry me to the States. He said he should go as far as Ogdensburg, and would carry me there, if I wished ; or he pould set me off at some place where he stopped for wood and water. When I told him I had no money to pay him, he smiled, and asked if I was a run-a-way. I frankly confessed that I was, for I thought it was better for me to tell the truth than to try to deceive. ** Well," said the captain, " I will not betray you ; but you had better go to my state-room and stay thne. I thanked him, but said I would rather stay where I was. He then gave me the key to his room, and advised me to go in and lock the door, " for," said he, " we are not accustomed to have ladies in this boat, and the men may annoy you. You will find it more pleasant and comfortable to stay there alone." Truly grateful for his kindness, and happy to escape from the gaze of the men, I followed his direction ; nor did I leave the room again until I left the boat. The captain brought me my meals, but did not attempt to enter the room. There was a small window with a spring on the inside; he would come and tap on the win- dow, and ask me to raise it, when he would hand me a waiter on which he had placed a variety of refreshments, and immediately retire. iM I ; CHAPTER XII. STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND. That night and the next day I suffered all the horrors of sea-sickness ; and those who have known by experience how completely it prostrates the energies of mind and body, can imagine how I felt on leaving the boat at night. The kind- hearted captain set me on shore at a place where he left coal and lumber, a short distance from the village of Ogdensburg. He gave me twelve and half cents, and expressed regret that he could do no more for me. He said he could not direct me to a lodging for the night, being a stranger in the place, and this the first time he had been on that route. Should this narrative chance to meet his eye, let him know that his kind and delicate atten- tions to a stranger in distress, are and ever will be remembered with the gratitude they so richly merit. It was with evident reluctance that he left me to make my way onward as I could. And now, reader, imagine, if you can, my situa- tion. A stranger in a strange land, and compara- tively a stranger to the whole world — alone in the darkness of night, not knowing where to seek a shelter or a place to lay my head ; exhausted with AN MiK OF MISERY. 99 sea-sickness until I felt more dead than alive, it did seem as though it would be a luxury to lie down and die. My stockings and shoes were all worn out with so much walking, my feet sore, swol- len, and bleeding, and my limbs so stiff and lame that it was only by the greatest effort that I could step at all. So extreme were my sufferings, that I stopped more than once before I reached the vil- lage, cast myself upon the cold ground, and thought I could go no further. Not even the idea of being run over in the darkness by some passing traveller, had power to keep me on my feet. Then I would rest awhile, and resolve to try again ; and so I hob- bled onward. It seemed an age of misery before I came to any house; but at length my spirits revived at the sight of brilliant lights through the windows, and the sound of cheerful voices that fell upon my ear. And now I thought my troubles over for that night at least. But no j when I asked permission to stay over night, it was coldly refused. Again and again I called at houses where the people seemed to enjoy all the comforts and even the lux- uries of life ; but their comforts were for themselves and not for a toil-worn traveller like me. This I was made to understand in no gentle manner ; and some of those I called upon were not very partic- ular in the choice of language. By this time my feet were dreadfully swollen, and O ! so sore and stiff, that every step produced the most intense ggony. Is it strange that I felt as f nil 1 I If 100 LIFE IN THE OREY NUNNERY. though life was hardly worth preserving? I re- solved to call at one house more, and if again refused, to lie down by the wayside and die. I accordingly entered the village hotel and asked for the landlady. The bar-tender gave me a suspicious glance that made me tremble, and asked my busi- ness. I told him my business was with the land- lady and no other person. He left the room a moment, and then conducted me to her chamber. As I entered a lady came forward to meet me, D d the pleasant expression of her countenance at once won my confidence. She gave me a cordial welcome, saying, with a smile, as she led me to a seat, " I guess, my dear, you are a run-a-way, are you not ? " I confessed that it was even so ; that I had iled from priestly cruelty, had travelled as far as I could, and now, weary, sick, and faint from long fasting, I had ventured to cast myself upon her mercy. " Will you protect me ? " I asked, " and are you a Roman Catholic ? " " No," she replied, *^ I am not a Roman Catholic, and I will protect you. You seem to have suffered much, and are quite exhausted. Biit you will find a friend in me. I will not betray you, for I dislike the priests and the convents as much as you do." She then called her little girl, and ordered a fire kindled in another chamber, saying she did not wish her servants to see me. The child soon returned, when the lady herself conducted me to a large, pleasant bed-room, handsomely furnished with every convenience, and a fire in the grate. She L\ . ^ KIND LANDLADY. 101 gave mo a seat in a large easy-chair before the fire, sand went out, locking the door after her. In a short time she returned with warm water for a bath, and with her own hands gave me all the assistance I needed. As I related the incidents of the day, she expressed much sympathy for my suf- ferings, and said she was glad I had come to her. She gave me a cordial, and then brought me a cup of tea and other refre^ments, of which I made a hearty supper. She would not allow me to eat all I wished ; but when I had taken as much as was good for me, she bathed my feet with a heal- ing wash, and assisted me to bed. O, the luxury of that soft and comfortable bed! No one can realize with what a keen sense of enjoyment I laid my head upon those downy pillows, unless they have suffered as I did, and known by experience the sweetness of repose after excessive toil. All that night this good lady sat beside my bed, and kept my feet wet in order to reduce the swell- ing. I was little inclined to sleep, and at her request related some of the events of my convent life. While doing this, I hardly knew what to make of this curious woman. Sometimes she would weep, and then she would swear like any pirate. I was surprised and somewhat afraid of her, she seemed so strange and used such peculiar language. She understood my feelings at once, and immediately said, « You need not be a£raid of me, for I have a kind heart, if I do use wicked words. I cannot help swearing when I think about 9* % * 102 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. the priests, monsters of iniquity that they are; what fearful crimes they do commit under the cloak of religion ! O, if the people of this land could but see their real character, they would rise en masse and drive them from the country, whose lib- erties they will, if possible, destroy. For myself I have good cause to hate them. Shall I tell you my story, dear ? " I begged her to do so, which she did, as follows : " I once had a sister, young, talented, beautiful, amiable and affectionate. She was the pride of all Qur family, the idol of our souls. She wished for an education, and we gladly granted her request. In our zeal to serve her, we resolved to give her the very best advantages, and so we sent her to a Romish school. It was a seminary for young ladies taught by nuns, and was the most popular one in that part of the country. My .fat her, like many other parents who knew such establishments only by report, had not the least idea of its true character. But deluded by the supposed sanctity of the place, he v^^as happy in the thought that he had left his darlihg where it was said that * science and religion go hand in hand.' For a season, all went on well. She wrote to us that she was pleased with the school, and wished to remain. We thought her hand wrting wonderfully improved, and eagerly looked forward to the time when she would return to us a finished scltolar, as well as an accomplished lady. But those pie cant prospects were soon over» past. Too soon, -^^j^r ii»i].py, bovuidin^ hearts were FALSEHOOD AND DECEPTION. 103 hu8hf>(I hy nnbpeakablc grief, and our brilliant anti- cipaiions were dissipated in the chamber of (''"ath. In their place came those solemn realities, the shroud, the cofRn, the hearse and the tomb." « Did she die ? " I asked. " Yes," replied the lady, as she wiped away the fa^ t flowing tears ; " Yes, she died. I believe "he wi.-i poisoned, but we could do nothing; we had no proof She had been long at school befo;'? we sutjiected'the deception that was practised upon us. But at length I went with my othci sister to see h< r,and the Superior informed us that she was ill, and could not see us. We proposed going to her room, but to our great surprise weie assured that such a thing could not be allowed. We left with sad hearts, and soon called again. I cannot describe my feelings when we were coldly informed that she did not wish to see us. What could it mean ? Surely something must be wrong; and we left with terrible presentiments of coming evil. It came, ^es, too soon were our worst fears realized. I called one day resolved to see her before I left the house. Conceive, if you can, my sur- prise and horror, when they told me that rpy beau- tiful, idolized sister had resolved to become a nun. That she had ahready renounced the world, and "ould ^'^^' no iurther communication with her relatives. " Why did I not know this before ? I ex.ilaimed." " You know it now," was the cold reply. I did not believe a word of it, and when I told my father what they said, he went to them, ■■M 104 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. and resolutely demanded his child. At first they refused to give her up, but when they saw that his high spirit was aroused — that he would not be flattered or deceived, they reluctantly yielded to his demand." CHAPTER XIII. landlady's story continued. " The poor girl was overjoyed to meet her friends again, but how great was our astonishment and indignation when she informed us that she had never received a single line from home after she entered the school, nor did she ever know that we had called to see her until we informed her of the fact. Whenever she expressed surprise that she did not hear from us, they told her that we had probably forgotten her, and strove to awaken in her mind feelings of indignation, suspicion and ani- mosity. Not succeeding in this, however, they informed her that her father had called, and express- ed a wish that she should become a nun ; that he did not think it best for her to return home again, nor did he even ask for a parting interview. Confounded and utterly heart-broken, she would have given herself up to uncontrollable grief had she been allowed to indulge her feelings. But even the luxury of tears was forbidden, and she was compelled to assume an appearance of cheerful- ness, and to smile when her heart-strings were breaking. We brought forward the letters we had received from time to time which we believed she I I 106 LTPE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. had written. She had never seen them before, " and this," said she, " is not my hand-writing." Of this fact she soon convinced us, but she said she had written letter after letter hoping for an answer, but no answer came. She said she knew that the Superior examined all the letters written by the young ladies, but supposed they were always sent, after being read. But it was now plain to be seen that those letters were destroyed, and others substituted in their place. * * Raffaele Ciocci, formerly a Benedictine Monk, in his " Narra- tive/' published by the American and Foreign Christian Union, relates a similar experience of his own, when in the Papal College of San Bernardo. Being urged to sign " a deed of humility," in which he was to renounce all his property and give it to the college, he says, " I knew not what to think of this " deed of humility." A thousand misgivings filled my mind, and hoping to receive from the notary an explanation that would assist me in fully comprehending its intention, I anxiously said, " I must request, sir, that you will inform me what is expected from me. Tell me what is this deed — whether it be really a mere form, as has been represented to me, or if Here the master arose, and in an imperious tone inter- rupted me, saying, — "Do not be obstinate and rebellious, but obey. I have already told you that when you assume the habit of the Order, the chapter ' de humilitate ' shall be explained to you. In this paper you have only to make a renunciation of all you pos- sess on earth." " Of all I possess ! And if I renounce all, who, when I leave the college, will provide for me ? " The notary now interposed. " That," said he, " is the point to which I wish to call your atten- tion, in advising you to make some reservation. If you neglect to do so, you may find yourself in difficulties, losing, as you irrevoca- bly will, every right of your own." At these words, so palpable, BO glaring, the bandage fell from my eyes, and I saw the abyss these monsters were opening under my feet. " This is a deception, a FALSEHOOD AND FOBGERY. 107 "It follows then," said my father, "that these letters are forgeries, and the excuses they have so horrible deception," I exclaimed. " I now understand the * deed of humility,' but I protest I will not sign it, I will have nothing more to do with it." *•***" After spending two or three hours in bitterness and woe, I resolved to have recourse to my family. For this purpose I wrote a long letter to my mother, in which I exposed all the miseries of my heart, related what had taken place with regard to the "deed of humility," and begged of her consolation and advice. I gave the letter into the hands of a servant, and on the following morning received a reply, in which I was told, in gentle terms, to be tranquil, — not to resist the wishes of my directors, — sign unhesitatingly any paper that might b6 required, for, when my studies were completed, and I quitted the college, the validity of these forms would cease. This letter set all my doubts at rest, and restored peace to my mind. It was written by my mother, and she, I felt assured, would never deceive me. How could I for one moment imagine that this epistle was an invention of my enemies, who imitated the hand-writing and affectionate style of my mother 1 Some persons will say, you might have suspected it. * * I reply, that in the uprightness of my heart, I could not conceive such atro- cious wickedness ; it appeared utterly irreconcilable with the sanc- tity of the place, and with the venerable hoariness of persons dedi- cated to God. After perusing the letter, I hastened to the master, declaring my readiness to sign the " deed of humility." He smiled approvingly on finding how well his plan had succeeded. The notary and wit- nesses were again summoned, and my condemnation written. The good notary, however, pitying my situation, inserted an exceptional clause to the total relinquishment of my rights. * * * * No Sooner was this business concluded, than the master commanded me to write to my parents, to inform them that I bad signed the deed of renunciation, and was willing, for the benefit of my soul, to assume the monkish habit. He was present when I wrote this let- ter ; i was, therefore, obliged to adopt the phrases suggested by him, — phrases, breathing zeal and devotion, full of indifference to the world, and tranquil satisfaction at the choice I had made. My parents, thought I, will bb astonished when they read this epistle, n ( il 108 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. i I ■ i '}': often made are base falsehoods. A teacher of the religion of Jesus Christ guilty of lying and forgery ! * O, my soul come not thou into their secret ; unto their assembly mine honor be thou not united.' " " But we have our darling home again," said I, " and now we shall keep her with us." Never shall I forget the sweet, sad smile that came over her pale face as I uttered these words. Perchance, even then she realized that she was soon to leave us, never more to return. However this may be, she gradually declined. Slowly, but surely she went down to the grave. Every remedy was tried — every measure resorted to, that seemed to prom- ise relief, but all in vain. We had the best phy- sicians, but they frankly confessed that they did bat they must perceive that the language is not mine, so little is it in accordance with my former style of writing! Beader, in the course of thirteen months, only one, of from fifty to sixty letters which I addressed to my mother, was ever received by her, and that one was this very letter. The monks, instead of forwarding mine, had forged letters imitating the hand-writing, and adopting a style suited to their purpose ; and instead of consigning - to me the genuine replies, they artfully substituted answers of their own fabrication. My family, therefore, were not surprised at the tenor of this epistle, but rejoiced over it, and reputed me already a Saint. They probably pictured me to themselves, on some future day, with a mitre on my head — with the red cap — nay, perhaps, even wearing the triple crown. Oh, what a delusion I Poor deceived parents I You knew not that your son, in anguish and despair, was clashing his chains, and devouring his tears in secret ; that a triple bandage was placed before his eyes, and that he was being draped, an unwilling victim, to the sacriiice." Eetuming home soon after, Ciocci rushed to his mother, and asked if she had his letters. They were produced ; when he found that only one had been written by him. The rest were forgeries of the masters. HYPOCRICY AHD DECEPTION. 109 ine, so little is it not understand her disease. In a very few months after her return, we laid our lovely and beloved sister beneath the clods of the valley. Our good old physician wept as he gazed upon her cold remains. I believe he thought she was poisoned, but as he could not prove it, he would only have in- jured himself by saying so. As for myself, I always thought that she knew too many of their secrets to be allowed to live after leaving them. And now, dear,'' she continued, " do you think it strange that I hate the Romanists ? Do you wonder if I feel like swearing when I think of priests and con- vents?" * Truly, I did not wonder that she hated them, though I could not understand what benefit it coidd be to swear about it; but I did not doubt the truth of her story. How often, in the convent from which I fled, had I heard them exult over the suc- cess of some deep laid scheme to entrap the ignorant, the innocent and the unwary ! If a girl was rich or handsome, as sure as she entered their school, so sure was she to become a nun, unless she had influential friends to look after her and res- olutely prevent it. To effect this, no means were left untried. The grossest hypocricy, and the meanest deception were practised to prevent a girl from holding communication with any one out of the convent. No matter how lonely, or how home- sick she might feel, she was not allowed to see her friends, or even to be informed of their kind atten- tions. So far from this, she was made td believe, 10 110 LIFE IN THE GBET MUNNEB7. i| h if possible, that her relatives had quite forsaken her, while these very relatives were boldly informed that she did not wish to see them. If they wrote to their friends, as they sometimes did, their letters were always destroyed, while those received at home were invariably written by the priest or Superior. These remarks, however, refer only to those who are rich, or beautiful in person. Many a girl can say with truth that she has attended the convent school, and no effort was ever made — no inducement ever presented to persuade her to become a nun. Consequently, she says that stories like the above are mere falsehoods, reported to injure the school. This may be true so far as she is concerned, but you may be sure she has neither riches nor beauty, or if possessed of these, there was some other strong reason why she should be an exception to the general rule. Could she know the private history of some of her school-mates, she would tell a different story. I remember that while in the convent, I was one day sent up stairs to assist a Superior in a chamber remote from the kitchen, and in a part of the house where I had never been before. Returning alone to the kitchen, I passed a door that was partly open, and hearing a slight groan within, I pushed open the door and looked in, before I thought what I was doing. A young girl lay upon a bed, who looked more like a corpse than a living person. She saw me, and motioned to have me come to her. As I drew near the bed, she burst into tears, and x<\ A DRAUGHT OF COLD WATER. Ill whispered, " Can't you get me a drink of cold water ?" I told her I did not know, but I would try. I hastened to the kitchen, and as no one was present but a nun whom I did not fear, I procured a pitcher of water, and went back with it without meeting any one on the way. I was well aware that if seen, I should be punished, but I did not care. I was doing as I would wish others to do to me, and truly, I had my reward. Never shall I forget how grateful that poor sufferer was for a draught of cold water. She could not teU how many days she had been fasting, for some of the time she had been insensible; but it must have been several days, and she did not know how long she was to remain in that condition. " How came you here ? " I asked, in a whisper ; " and what have you done to induce them to pun- ish you so ? " " O," said she, with a burst of tears, and grasping my hand with her pale, cold fingers, <' I was in the school, and I thought it would be so nice to be a nun ! Then my father died and left me all his property, and they persuaded me to stay here, and give it all to the church. I was so sad then I did not care for money, and I had no idea what a place it is. I really thought that the nuns were pure and holy — that their lives were devoted to heaven, their efforts consecrated to the cause of truth and righteousness. I thought that this was indeed the 'house of God,' the very *gate of heaven.' But as soon as they were sure of me, they let me know — but you understand me ; you i ' li 4". 112 LIFE IN THE ORET NUNNERT. H know what I mean ? " I nodded assent, and once more asked, " What did you do ? " " O, I was in the school,'' said she, " and I knew that a friend of mine was coming here just as I did; and I could not bear to see her, in all her loveliness and unsuspecting innocence, become a victim to these vile priests. I found an opportunity to let her know what a hell she was coming to. 'Twas an unpardonable sin, you see. I had robbed the church — committed sacrilege, they said — and they have almost killed me for it. I wish they would quitey for I am sure death has no terrors for me now. God will never punish me for what I have done. But go ; don't stay any longer ; they '11 kill you if they catch you here." I knew that she had spoken truly — they would kill me, almost, if not quite, if they found me there ; but I must know a little more. " Did you save your friend ? " I asked, " or did you both have to suffer, to pay for your generous act ? " " Did I save her ? Yes, thank God, I did. She did not come, and she promised not to tell of me. I don't think she did ; but they managed to find it out, I don't know how ; and now — O God, let me die ! " I was obliged to go, and I left her, with a promise to carry her some bread if I could. But I could not, and I never saw her again. Yet what a history her few words unfolded! It was so much like the landlady's story, I could not forbear relating it to her. She seemed much interested in all my convent adven- tures ; and In this way we spent the night. \ 1 CHAPTER XIV. THE TWO SISTERS. Next morning the la'dy informed me that I could not remain with her in safety, but she had a sister, who lived about half a mile distant, with whom I could stop until my feet were sufficiently healed to enable me to resume my journey. She then sent for her sister, who very kindly, as I then thought, acceded to her request, and said I was wel- come to stay with her as long as I wished. Arrange- ments were therefore made at once for my removal. My kind hostess brought two large buffalo robes into my chamber, which she wrapped around my person in such a way as to shield me from the observation of the servants. She then called one whom she could trust, and bade him take up the bundle and carry it down to a large covered wagon that stood at the door. I have often wondered whether the man knew what was in that bundle or not. I do not think he did, for he threw me across his shoulder as he would any bale of merch- andise, and laid me on the bottom of the caniage. The two ladies then entered, laughing heartily at the success of their ruse, and joking me about my novel mode of conveyance. In this manner we 10* ir ^s/' ■Mi w LP 1 1 p I lii 114 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. were driven to the sister's residence, and I was carried into the house by the servants, in the same way. The landlady stopped for a few moments, and when she left she gave me cloth for a new dress, a few other articles of clothing, and three dollars in money. She bade me stay there and make my dress, and on no account venture out again in my nun dres3. She wished me success in my efforts to escape, commended me to the care of our heavenly Father, and bade me farewell. She returned in the wagon alone, and left me to make the acquaintance of my new hostess. This lady was a very different woman from her sister, and I soon had reason to regret that I was in her power. It has been suggested to me that the two ladies acted in concert; that I was removed ior the sole purpose of being betrayed into the minds of my enemies. But I am not willing to believe this. Dark as human nature appears to me — accustomed as I am to regard almost every oneydth suspicion — still I cannot for one moment cherish a thought so injurious to one who was so kind to me. Is it possible that she could be such a hypocrite ? Treat me with so much tenderness, and I might say affection, and then give me up to what was worse than death ? No ; whatever the reader may think about it, I can never believe her guilty of such perfidy. I regret exceedingly my inability to give the narne of this lady in connec- tion with the history of her good deeds, but I did not learn the name of either sister. The one to BETRATED AND CAPTURED. 116 whom I was now indebted for a shelter seemed altogether careless of my interests. I had been with her but a few hours when she asked me to do some washing for her. Of course I was glad to do it ; but when she requested me to go into the yard and hang the clothes upon the line, I became somewhat alarmed. I did not like to do it, and told her so ; but she laughed at my fears, overruled all my objections, said no one in that place would Lu^ek to harm or to betray me, and assured me there was not the least danger. I at last consented to go, though my reason, judgment, and inclination, had I followed their dictates, would have kept me in the house. But I did not like to appear un- grateful, or unwilling to repay the kindness I received, as far as I was able ; still I could not help feeling that it was an ungenerous demai)^ She might at least have offered me a bonnet or ft shawl, as a partial disguise ; but she did nothing of the kind. When I saw that I could not avoid the exposure I resolved to make the best of it and get through as quickly as possible ; but my dress attracted a good deal of attention, and I saw more than one suspicious glance directed towards me before my task was finished. When it was over I thought no more about it, but gave myself up to the bright anticipations of future happiness, which now began to take possession of my mind. That night I retired to a comfortable bed, and was soon lost to aU earthly cares in the glorious f i: i 'I 116 LIFE IN THB OBEY NUNNERY. :t li M liil land of dreams. What unaUoyed happiness I enjoyed that night ! what impossible feats I per* formed ! Truly, the vision was bright, but a sad awaking followed. Some time in the night I was aroused by the flashing of a bright light from a dark lantern suddenly opened. I attempted to rise, but before I could realize where I was, a strong hand seized me and a gag was thrust into my mouth. The man attempted to take me in his arms, but with my hands and feet I defended myself to the best of my ability. Another man now came to his assistance, and with strong cords confined my hands and feet, so that I was entirely at their mercy. Perfectly helpless, I could neither resist nor call for help. They then took me up and carried me down stairs, with no clothing but my night-dress, not even a shawl to shield me from the cold night air. At the gate stood a long covered wagon, in form like a butchers cart, drawn by two horses, and beside it a long box with several men standing around it. I had only time to observe this, when they thrust me into the box, closed the lid, placed it in the wagon, and drove rapidly away. I could not doubt for a moment into whose hands I had fallen, and when they put me into the box, I wished I might suffocate, and thus end my misery at once. But they had taken good care to prevent this by boring holes in the box, which admitted air enough to keep up respiration. And this was the result of all |ny efforts for freedom ! After all I had euf- RETURN TO MONTREAL. 117 fered in making my escape, it was a terrible disap- pointment to be thus craelly betrayed, gagged, bound, and boxed up like an article of merchan- dise, carried back to certain torture, and perchance to death. O, blame me not, gentle reader, if in my haste, and the bitter disappointment and anguish of my spirit, I questioned the justice of the power that rules the world. Nor let your vir- tuous indignation wax hot against me if I confess to you, that I even doubted the existence of that power. How often had I cried to God for help ! Why were my prayers and tears disregarded? What had I done to deserve such a life of misery ? These, and similar thoughts occupied my mind during that lonely midnight ride. We arrived at St. Regis before the first Mass in the morning. The box was then taken into the chapel, where they took me out and carried me into the church. I was seated at the foot oLthe altar, with my hands and feet fast bound, th^ag still in my mouth, and no clothing on, but my night-dress. Two men stood beside me, and I remained here until the priest had said mass, and the people retired from the church. He then came down from the altar, and said to the men beside me, " Well, you have got her." " Yes Sir," they replied, " what shall we do with her ? " " Put her on the five o'clock boat," said he, " and let the other men go with her to Montreal. I want you to stay here, and be ready to go the other way to- night" This priest was an Indian, but he spoke i ( 118 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. the English language correctly and fluently. He seemed to feel some pity for my forlorn condition, and as they were about to carry me away he brought a large shawl, and wrapped it around me, for which I was truly grateful. At the appointed time, I was taken on board the boat, watched very closely by the two men who had me in charge. There was need enough of this, for I would very gladly have thrown myself into the water, had I not been prevented. Once and again I attempted it, but the men held me back. For this, I am now thankful, but at that time my life appeared of so little importance, and the punishments I knew were in reserve for me seemed so fearful, I voluntarily chose << strangling and death rather than life.'' The captain and sail- ors were all Romanists, and seemed to vie with each other in making me as unhappy as possible. They made sport of my " new fashioned clothing," andlKisked if I " did not wish to run away again?" When they foun« I did not notice them they used the most abusivr and scurrilous language, mingled with vulgar a^ci profane expressions, which may not be repeated. The men who had charge of me, and who should have protected me from such abuse, so far from doing it, joined in the laugh, and appeared to think it a pleasant amusement to ridicule and vex p. poor helpless fugitive. May God forgive them for their cruelty, and in the hour of their greatest need, may they meet with the kindness they refused to me. I . j?-_i • -^•H«kM«r«/iT r i ".(jva***! LUDICB0U8 SIGHT. 119 At Lachine we changed boats and took another to Montreal. When we arrived there, three priests were waiting for us. Their names I perfectly remember, but I am not sure that I can spell them correctly. Having never learned while in the nun- nery, to read, or spell anything except a simple prayer, it is not strange if I do make mistakes, when attempting to give names from memory. I can only give them as they were pronounced. They were called Father Kelly, Dow, and Conroy. All the priests were called father, of whatever age they might be. As we proceeded firom the boat to the Nunnery, one of the priests went before us while the others walked beside me, leading me between them# People gazed at us as we passed, but they did not dare to insult, or laugh at me, while in such respec- table company. Yet, methinks it must have been a ludicrous sight to witness so much parade for a poor run-a-way nun. k "1 % CHAPTER XV. CHOICE OF PUNISHMENTS. On out arrival at the Nunnery, I was left alone for half an hour. Then the Bishop came in with the Lady Superior, and the Abbess who had charge of the kitchen when I left. The Bishop read to me three punishments of which he said, I could take my choice. First. — To fast five days IpUi the fasting room. Second. — To suffer punish- ment in the lime room. Third. — To fast four days in the cell. As I knew nothing of these places except the cell, a priest was directed to take me to them, that I might see for myself, and then take my choice. At fiirst, I thought I did not care, and I said I had no choice about it ; but when I came to see the rooms, I was thankful that I was not allowed to abide by that decision. Certainly, J had no idea what was before me. I was blindfolded, and taken to the lime room first. I think it must have been situated at a great distance from the room we left, for he led me down several flights of stairs, and through long, low pas- sages, where it was impossible to stand erect. At length we entered a room where the atmosphere seemed laden with hot vapor. My blinder was THE LIME ROOM. 121 removed, and I found myself in a pleasant room some fifteen feet square. There was no furniture of any kind, but a wide bench, fastened to the wall, extended round three sides of the room. The floor looked like one solid block of dark colored marble ; not a crack or seam to be seen in it, but it was clouded, highly polished, and very beautiful. Around the sides of the room, a great number of hooks and chains were fastened to the wall, and a large hook hung in the center overhead. Near the door stood two men, with long iron bars, some two inches square, on their shoulders. The priest directed me to stand upon the bench, and turning to the men, he bade them raise the door. They put down their bars, and I suppose touched a concealed spring, for the whole floor at once flew up, and fastened to the large hook over head. Surprised and terrified, I stood wondering what was to come next. At my feet yawned a deep pit, from which arose a suflbcating vapor, so hot, it almost scorched my face and nearly stopped my breath. The priest pointed to the heaving, tumbling billows of smoke that were roll- ing below, and asked, " How would you like to be thrown into the lime ?" " Not at all," I gasped, in a voice scarcely audible, " it would burn me to death." I suppose he thought I was sufliciently frightened, for he bade his men close the door. This they did by slowly letting down the floor, and I could see that it was in some way supported by 11 122 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. the chains attached to the walls but in what man- ner I do not know. I was nearly suffocated by the lime smoke that filled the room, and though I knew not what was in reserve for me, I was glad when my blinder was put on, and I was led away. I think we returned the same way we came, and entered another room where the scent was so very offensive, that I begged to be taken out immediately. Even before my eyes were uncovered, and I knew nothing of the loathsome objects by which we were surrounded, I felt that I could not endure to breathe an atmos- phere so deadly. But the sight that met my eyes when my blinder was removed, I cannot describe, nor the sensations with which I gazed upon it. I can oL'ly give the reader some faint idea of the place, which, they said, was called the fasting room, and here incorrigible offenders fasted until they starved to death. Nor was this all. Their dead bodies were not even allowed a decent biirial, but were suffered to remain in the place where they died, until the work of death was complete and dust returned to dust. Thus the atmosphere became a deadly poison to the next poor victim who was left to breathe the noxious effluvia of cor- ruption and decay. I am well aware that my reader will hardly p.redit my statements, bilt I do solemnly affirm that I relate nothing but the truth. In this room were placed several large iron kettles, so deep that a person could sit in them, and many #3 RELICS OP THE DEAD. 123 of them contained the remains of human beings. In one the corpse looked as though it had been dead but a short time. Others still sat erect in the kettle, but the flesh was dropping from the bones. Every stage of decay was here represented, from the commencement, till nothing but a pile of bones was left of the poor sufferer. Conceive, if you can, with what feelings I gazed upon these disgusting relics of the dead. Even now, my blood chills in my veins, as memory recalls the fearful sight, or as, in sleep, I live over again the dread realities of that hour. Was I to meet a fate like this ? I might, perchance, escape it for that time, but what assurance had I that I was not ultimately destined to such an end? These thoughts filled my mind, as I followed the priest from the room ; and for a long time I continued to speculate upon what I had seen. They called it the fasting room; but if fasting were the only object, why were they placed in those kettles, instead of being allowed to sit on chairs or benches, or even on the floor ? And why placed in iron ket- tles ? Why were they not made of wood ? It would have answered the purpose quite as well, if fasting or starvation were the only objects in view. Then came the fearful suggestion, were these ket- tles ever heated ? And was that floor made of stone or iron ? The thought was too shocking to be cher- ished for a moment ; but I could not drive it from my mind. I was again blindfolded,. and taken to a place y ■II e tup**!? 124 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. they called a cell. But it was quite different from the one I was in before. We descended sev- eral steps as we entered it, and instead of the darkness I anticipated, I found myself in a large room with sufficient light to enable me to see every object distinctly. One end of a long chain was fastened around my waist, and the other firmly secured to an iron ring in the floor ; but the chain, though large and heavy, was long enough to allow me to go aU over the room. I could not see how it was lighted, but it must have been in some arti- ficial manner, for it was quite as light at night, as in the day. Here were instruments of various kinds, the use of which, I did not understand ; some of them lying on the floor, others attached to the sides of the room. One of them was made in the form of a large fish, but of what material I do not know. It was of a bright flesh color, and fastened to a board on the floor. If I pressed my foot upon the board, it would put in motion some machinery within, which caused it to spring for- ward with a harsh, jarring sound like the rumbling of the cars. At the same time its eyes would roll round, and its mouth open, displaying a set of teeth so large and long that I was glad to keep at a safe distance. I wished to know whether it would really bite me or not, but it looked so frightful I did not dare to hazard the experiment. Another so nearly resembled a large serpent, I almost thought it was one ; but I found it movad only when touched in a certain manner. Then it % 4 WHO HOLDS THE KEY? 125 ] would roll over, open its mouth, and run out its tongue. There was another that I cannot describe, for I never saw anything that looked like it. It was some kind of a machine, and the turning of a crank made it draw together in such a way, that if a person were Once within its embrace, the pressure would soon arrest the vital current, and stop the breath of life. Around the walls of the room were chains, rings and hooks, almost innumerable ; but I did not know their use, and feared to touch them. I believed them all to be instruments of torture, and I thought they gave me a long chain in the hope and expectation that my curiosity would lead me into some of the numerous traps the room con- tained. Every morning the figure I had seen beside the dying nun, which they called the devil, came to my cell, and unlocking* the door himself, entered, and walked around me, laughing heartily, and seeming much pleased to find me there. He would blow white firoth from his mouth, but he never spoke to me, and when he went out, he locked the door after him and took away the key. He was, in fact, very thoughtful and prudent, but it will be long before I believe that he came as they pretended, from the spirit world. So far from being frightened, the incident was rather a source of Mmusement. Such ques- tions as the following would force themselves upon my mind. K that image is really the devil, where did he get that key ? And what will he do with it ? Does the devil hold the keys of this nunnery, !i 126 LIFE IN THE 6RET NUNNERY. SO that he can come and go as he pleases ? Or, are the priests on such friendly terms with his Satanic majesty that they lend him their keys ? Or, do they hold them as partners ? Gentlemen of the Grey Nunnery, please tell us how it is about those keys. ?il- CHAPTER XVI. HORRORS OF STARVATION. One day a woman came into my cell, dressed in white, a white cap on her head, and so very pale she looked more like a corpse than a living person. She came up to me with her mouth wide open, and stood gazing at me for a moment in perfect silence. She then asked, " Where have you been ? " " Into the world," I replied. " How did you like the world ? " " Very well," said I. She paused a moment, and then asked, "Did you find your faends?" «No, ma'am," said I, "I did not." Another pause, and then she said, " Perhaps you will if you go again." " No," I replied, " I shall not try again.'' " You had better try it once more," she added, and I thought there was a slight sneer in her tone; "Perhaps you may succeed better another time." " No," I replied, " I shall not try to run away from the nunnery again. I should most assuredly be caught and brought back, and then they would make me suffer so much, I assure you I shall never do it again." She looked at ma a moment as though she would read my very soul, and said, " And so you did not find your friends, after all, did you ? " I again told her that I did not, 128 LIFE IN THE OBEY NUNNERY, / ' If and she seemed satisfied with the resnlt of her ques- tioning. When she came 7n, I was pleased to see her, and thought I would ask her for something to eat, or at least for a little cold water. But she seemed so cold-hearted, so entirely destitute of sym- pathy or kind feeling, I had no courage to speak to her, for I felt that it would do no good. Perhaps I misjudged her. I knew from her looks that she must have been a great sufferer ; but I have heard it said that extreme suffering sometimes hardens instead of softening the heart, and I believe it. It seemed to me that this woman had suffered so much herself, that every kind feeling was crushed out of her soul. I was glad when she left me, lock- ing the door after her. Four days they kept me in this cell, and for five days and nights I had not tasted food or drink. I endured the most intolerable agonies from hunger and thirst. The suffering produced by hunger, when it becomes actual starvation, is far beyond anything that I can imagine. There is no other sensation that can be compared to it, and no lan- guage can describe it. One must feel it in order to realize what it is. The first two days I amused myself by walking round my room and trying to conjecture the use to which the various instruments were applied. Then I became so weak I could only think of eating and drinking. I sometimes fell asleep, but only to dream of loaded tables and luxurious feasts. Yet I could never taste the lux- uries thus presented. Whenever I attempted to DEATH A MERCY. 129 do so, they would be snatched away, or I would wake to find it all a dream. Driven to a perfect frenzy by the intensity of my sufferings, I would gladly have eaten my own flesh. Well was it for me that no sharp instrument was at hand, for as a last resort I more than once attempted to tear open my veins with my teeth. This severe paroxysm passed away, and I sank into a state of partial unconsciou&ness, in which I remained until I was taken out of the cell. I do not believe I should have lived many hours longer, nor should I ever have been conscious of much more suffering. With me the " bitterness of death had passed," and I felt disappointed and almost angry to be recalled to a life of misery. I begged them to allow me to die. It was the only boon I craved. But this would have been too merciful ; moreover, they did not care to lose my services in the kitchen. I was a good drudge for them, and they wished to restore me on the same principle that a farmer would preserve the life of a valuable horse. I do not remember leaving the ceU. The first thing I realized they were placing me in a chair in the kitchen, find allowed me to lean my head upon the table. They gave me some gruel, and I soon revived so that I could sit up in my chair and speak in a whisper. But it was some hours before I could stand on my feet or speak loud. An Abbess waa i.i the kitchen preparing bread and wine for the priests (they partake of these refreshments eVery day at ten in the morning and three in the after- i; 130 MI'H IN TIfK tJRKY NUNNIIUY. noon). She brought a pailful of wine and placed it on the table near me, and left a glass standing beside it. When she turned away, I took the glass, dipped up a little of the wine, and drank it. She saw me do it, but said not a word, and I think she left it there for that purpose. The wine was very strong, and my stomach so weak, I soon began to feel sick, and asked permission to go to bed. They took me up in their arms and carried me to my old room and laid me on the bed. Here they left me, but the Abbess soon returned with some gruel made very palatable with milk and sugar. I was weak, and my hand trembled so that I could not feed myself; but the Abbess kindly sat beside me and fed me until I was satisfied. I had nothing more to eat until the next day at eleven o'clock, when the Abbess again brought me some bread and gruel, and a cup of strong tea. She requested me to drink the tea as quick as possible, and then ehe concealed the mug in which she brought it. I was now able to feed myself, and you may be sure I had an excellent appetite, and was not half 80 particular about my food as some persons I have since known. I lay in bed till near night, when I rose, dressed myself without assistance, and went down to the kitchen. I was so weak and trembled so that I could hardly manage to get down stairs ; but I succeeded at last, for a strong will is r. wonderful incentive to efficient action. In the kitchen I met the Lady Superior. She saw how weak I was, and as she assisted me to a HUMANITY A CRIME. 131 chair, she said, « I should not have supposed that you could get down here alone. Have you had anything to eat to-day ? " I was about to say yes, but one of the nuns shook her head at me, and I replied " No." She then brought some bread and wine, requesting me to eat it quick, for fear some of the priests might come in arid detect us. Thus I saw that she feared the priests as well as the rest of us. Truly, it was a terrible crime she had com- mitted ! No wonder she was afraid of being caught ! Giving a poor starved nun a piece of bread, and then obliged to conceal it as she would have done a larceny or a murder ! Think of it, reader, and conceive, if you can, the state of that community where humanity is a crime — where mercy is con- sidered a weakness of which one should be lashamed! If a pirate or a highwayman had ibeen guilty of treating a captive as cruelly as I was treated by those priests, he would have been [looked upon as an inhuman monster, and at once [given up to the strong grasp of the law. But twhen it is done by a priest, under the cloak of [religion, and within the sacred precincts of a nun- tnery, people cry out, when the tale is told, " Impos- jsible!" "What motive could they have had?" j" It cannot be true," etc. But whether the state- jment is believed or otherwise, it is a fact that in (the Grey Nunnery at Montreal the least exhibition of a humane spirit was punished as a crime. The jnun who was found guilty of showing mercy to a ifellow-sufferer was sure to find none herself. I ^Jiil-ff"-" 1^ i. ]\ y V f ■ 132 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. From this time I gained very fast, for the Abbess saw how hungry I was, and she would either put food in my way, or give me privately what I wished to eat. In two weeks I was able to go to work in the kitchen again. But those I had formerly seen there were gone. I never knew what became of the sick nun, nor could I learn anything about the one who ran away with me. I thought that the men who brought me to St. Regis, were kept there to go after her, but I do not know whether they found her or not. For myself, I promised so solemnly, and with such apparent sin- cerity, that I would never leave the nunnery again, I was believed and trusted. Had I been kindly treated, had my life been, even tolerable, my con- science would have reproached me for deceiving them, but as it was, I felt that I was more " sinned against, than sinning." I could not think it wrong to get away, if the opportunity presented, and for this I was constantly on the watch. Every night I lay awake long after all the rest were buried in slumber, tr^xng to devise some plan, by which I could once more regain my liberty. And who can blame me ? Having just tasted the sweets of free- dom, how could I be content to remain in servi- tude all my life ? Many a time have I left my bed at night, resolved to try to escape once more, but the fear of detection would deter me from the attempt. In the discharge of my daily duties, I strove to the utmost of my ability to please my employers. SCEPTICISM. 133 I so far succeeded, that for five weeks after my return I escaped punishment. Then, I made a slight mistake about my work, though I verily thought I was doing it according to the direction. For this, I was told that I must go without two meals, and spend three days in the torture room. I supposed it was the same room I was in before, but I wa3 mistaken. I was taken into the kitchen cellar, and down a flight of stairs to another room directly under it. From thence, a door opened into another subterranean apartment which they called the torture room. These doors were so con- structed, that a casual observer would not be likely to notice them. I had been in that cellar many times, but never saw that door until I was taken through it. A person might live in the nunnery a life-time, and never see or hear anything of such a place. I presume those visitors who call at the school-rooms, go over a part of the house, and leave with the impression that the convent is a nice place, will never believe my statements about this room. Nor can we wonder at their skepti- cism. It is exceedingly difficult for pure minds to conceive how any human being can be so fearfully depraved. Knowing the purity of their own inten- tions, and judging others by themselves, it is not strange that they regard such tales of guilt and terror as mere fabrications, put forth to gratify the curiosity of the wonder-loving crowd. 12 >j0J^IUIf^ CHAPTER XVII. THE TORTURE ROOM. I REMEMBER hearing a gentleman at the depot remark that the very enormity of the crimes com- mitted by the Romanists, is their best protection. " For," said he, "some of their practices are so shockingly infamous they may not even be alluded to in the presence of the refined and the virtuous. And if the story of their guilt were told, who would believe the tale ? Far easier would it be to call the whole a slanderous fabrication, than to believe that man can be so vile." This consideration led me to doubt the propriety of attempting a description of what I saw in that room. But I have engaged to give a faithful nar- rative of what transpired in the nunnery; and shall I leave out a part because it is so strange and monstrous, that people will not believe it? No. I will tell, without the least exaggeration what I saw, heard, and experienced. People may not credit the story now, but a day will surely come when they will know that I speak the truth. As I entered the room I was exceedingly shocked at the horrid spectacle that met my eye. I knew that fearful scenes were enacted in the ip«qp|MWK|f|ik>, .f» tff riffin m t iS^' ■ ^■m ^:: WOMAN ON THE RACK. 135 subterranean cells, but I never imagined anything half so terrible as this. In various parts of the room I saw machines, and instruments of torture, and on some of them persons were confined who seemed to be suffering the most excruciating agony. I paused, utterly overcome with terror, and for a moment imagined that I was a witness to the torments, which, the priests say, are endured by the lost, in the world of woe. Was I to undergo such tortures, and which of those infernal engines would be applied to me ? I was not long in doubt. The priest took hold of me and put me into a machine that held me fast, while my feet rested on a piece of *von which was gradually heated until both feet , -* blistered. I think I must have been there iiiieen minutes, but perhaps the time seemed longrget, and take a step or two in the usual way ; id then it did seem as though they rejoiced in le opportunity to inflict punishment. It was the ^nly amusement they had, and there was so little iriety in their daily life, I believe they were glad |f anything to break in upon the monotony of con- rent life, and give them a little excitement. It was ^ery hard for me to learn to walk on my toes, and I often failed to do it, I was of course punished )r the atrocious crime. But I did learn at last, )r what can we not accomplish by resolute perse- verance ? Several years of practice so confirmed Jhe habit that I found it as diflicult to leave off as It was to begin. Even now I often find myself ' 13 I -[h I i il I 11 i '■ f-" i 1 ^ U ft 1 il 1 u i i il iWl H 1 1 1 ^1 L f-* 146 LIFE IN THE OBEY NUNNERY. tripping along on tip-toe before I am aware of it. We had a very cruel abbess in the kitchen, and this was one reason of our being punished so often. She was young and inexperienced, and had just been promoted to office, with which she seemed much pleased and elated. She embraced every opportunity to exercise her authority, and often have I fasted two whole days for accidentally spill- ing a little water on the kitchen floor. Whenever she wished to call my attention to her, she did not content herself with simply speaking, but would box my ears, pull my hair, pinch my arms, and in many ways so annoy and provoke me that I often wished her dead. One day when I was cleaning knives and forks she came up to me and gave me such a severe pinch on my arm that I carried the marks for many days. I did not wait to think what I was doing, but turned and struck her with all my niight. It could not have been a light blow, for I was very angry. She turned away, saying she should report me to the Lady Superior. I did not answer her, but as she passed through the door I threw a knife which I hoped would hit her, but it struck the door as she closed it. I expected something dreadful would be done to me after this wilful violation of a well known law. But I could bear it, I thought, and I was glad I hit her so hard. She soon returned with a young priest, who had been there but a short time, and his heart had not •«v: A nun's revenge. I am aware of yet become so hard as is necessary to be a good Romish priest. He came to me and asked, " What is the matter ? " I told him the Abbess punished me every day, that in fact I was under punishment most of the time ; that I did not deserve it, and I. was resolved to bear it no longer. I struck her because she pinched me for no good reason ; and I should in future try to defend myself from her cruelty. " Do you know," said he, " what will be done to you for this ? " « No, sir," said I, « I do not know," and I was about to add, " I do not care," but I restrained myself. He went out, and for a long time I expected to be called to account, but I heard no more of it. The Abbess, however, went on in the old way, tormenting me on every occasion. One day the priests had a quarrel among them- selves, and if I had said a drunken quarrel^ I do not think it would have been a very great mistake. In the fray they stabbed one of their number in the side, drew him out of his room, and left him on the floor in the hall of the main building, but one flight of stairs above the kitchen. Two nuns, who did the chamber work, came down stairs, and, see- ing him lie there helpless and forsaken, they took him by the hair of the head and drew him down to the kitchen. Here they began' to torment him in the most cruel manner. They burned sticks in the fire until the end was a live coal, put them into his hands and closed them, pressing the burning wood into the flesh, and thus producing the most i ij (i! ,, i «U:... 148 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. exquisite pain. At least this would have been the result if he had realized their cruelty. But I think he was insensible before they touched him, or if not, must have died very soon after, for I am sure he was dead when I first saw him. I went to them and remonstrated against such inhuman conduct. But one of the nuns replied, " That man has tormented me more than I can him, if I do my best, and I wish him to know how good it is." " But," said I, some one will come in, and you will be caught in the act." " I'll risk that," said she, " they are quarreling all over the house, and will have enough to do to look after each other for a while, I assure you." " But the man is dead," said I. " How can you treat a senseless corpse in that way ? " "^ I'm afiraid he is dead," she replied, he don't move at all, and I can't feel his heart beat ; but I did hope to make him realize how good the fire feels." Meanwhile, the blood was flowing from the wound in his side, and ran over the floor. The sight of this alarmed them, and they drew him into another dark hall, and left him beside the door of a room used for punishment. They then came back, locked the hall door, and washed up the blood. They expected to be punished for moving the dead body, but the floor was dry before any of the priests came in, and I do not think it was ever known. Perhaps they did not remember events as distinctly as they might under other circumstances, and it is very possible, that, when they found the MURDER AND REVENGE. Ud corpse they might not have been able to say whether it was where they left it, or not. We all rejoiced over the death of that priest. He w^as a very cruel man ; had punished me times without number, but, though I was glad he was dead, I could not have touched him when he lay helpless and insensible. A few weeks after the events just related, another trifling occurrence brought me into col- lision with the Abbess. And here let me remark that I have no way, by which to ascertain at what particular time certain events transpired. The reader will understand that I write this narrative from memory, and our life at the nunnery w as so monotonous, the days and weeks passed by with such dull, and irksome uniformity, that sometimes our frequent punishments were the only memorable events to break in upon the tiresome sameness of our unvarying life. Of course the most simple thing was regarded by us as a great event, some- thing worthy of special notice, because, for the time, it diverted our minds from the peculiar restraints of our disagreeable situation. To illustrate this remark let me relate an inci- dent that transpired about this time. I was one day sent to a part of the house where I was not in the habit of going. I was passing along a dark hall, when a ray of light from an open door fell upon my path. I looked up, and as the door at that moment swung wide open, I saw, before a glass, in a richly furnished room, the most beauti- 13* 150 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNKKY. ful woman I ever beheld. From the purity of her complexion, and the bright color of her cheeks and lips, I could have taken her for a piece of wax work, but for the fact that she was carelessly arrang- ing her hair. She was tall, and 'legant in person, with a countenance of such rare and surpassing Leauty, I involuntarily exclaimed, " What a beau- tiful woman!" She turned towards me with a smile of angelic sweetness, while an expression of sympathetic emotion overspread her exquisitely moulded features, which seemed to say as plainly as though she had spoken in words, " Poor child, I pity you." I now became conscious that I was breaking the rules of the house, and hastened away. But O, how many days my soul fed on that smile ! I never saw the lady again, her name I could never know, but that look of tenderness will never be forgotten. It was something to think of through many dreary hours, something to look back to, and be grateful for, all the days of my life. But to return to my narrative. The priests had a large quantity of sap gathered from the maple trees, and brought to the nunnery to be, boiled into sugar. Another nun and myself were left :o watch it, keep the kettle filled up, and prevent it from burning. It was boiled in the large caldron of which I have before spoken, and covered with a large, thin, wooden cover. The sap had boiled some time, and become very thick. I was employed in filling up the kettle when the Abbess CRUEL ORDER. 151 i of tenderness came into the room, and after a few inquiries, directed me to stand upon the cover of the cald- ron, v'.nd fix a large hook directly over it. I objected, for I know full well that it would not bear a fourth part of my weight. She then took hold of me, and tried to force me to step upon it, but I knew I should be burned to death, for the cover, on account of its enormous size was made as thin as possible, that we might be able to lift it. When I saw that she was determined to make me yield, in self defence, I threw her upon the floor. Would that I had been content to stop here. But no. When I saw her in my power, and remem- bered how much I had suffered from her, my angry passions rose, and I thought only of revenge. I commenced beating her with all my might, and when I stopped from mere exhaustion, the other nun caught her by the hair and began to draw her round the room. She struggled and shrieked, but she could not help herself. Her screams, however, alarmed the house, and hearing one of the priests coming, the nun gave her a kick and left her. The priest asked what we were doing, and the Abbess related with all possible exaggeration, the story of our cruelty. " But what did you do to them ? " asked the priest. " You gave them some provocation, or they never would treat you so." She was then obliged to tell what had passed between us, and he said she deserved to euffer for giving such an order. " Why," said he, " that 30ver would not have held her a mo- m 152 LIFE IN THE OBEY NUNNERY. I I 1! t ment, and she would most assuredly have burned to «leath." He punished us all; the Abbess for giving the order,, and us for abui^ing her. I should not have done this thing, had I not come off so well, when I once before attempted to defend myself; but my success at that time gn-ve me courage to try it again. My punishment was just, and I bore it very well, consoled by the thought that justice was awarded to the Abbess, as WftU an myself. .S If »T. have burned e Abbess for ler. I should 't come off so 3d to defend me ga-ve me lent wjis just, ^ the thought 3S9, as well a« CHAPTER XIX. SICKNESS AND DEATH OF A SUPERIOR. The nex' excitement in our little community was caused by the sickness and death of our Su- pt lor. I do not know what her disease was, but she was sick two weeks, and one of the nuns from the kitchen was sent to take care of her. One night she was so much worse, the nun thought she would die, and she began to torment her in the most inhuman manner. She had been severely punished a short time before at the instigation of this woman, and she then swore revenge if she ever found an opportunity. Now it was presented. She was in her power, too weak to resist or call for assistance, and she resolved to let her know by experience how bitterly she had made others suffer in days gone by. It was a fiendish spirit, un- doubtedly, that prompted her to seek revenge upon the dying, but what else could we expect ? She only followed the example of her elders, and if she went somewhat beyond their teachings, she had, as we shall see, her reasons for so doing. "With hot irons she burned her on various parts of her person, cut great gashes in the flesh upon her face, sides, and arms, and then rubbed salt and pepper into the wounds. But I will not try to describe it. ■*■• ., 15 1 LIFR TN TIIM C.T^KY NUNNERY. II ' r I t n fi 'I 'A The wretched woman died before morning, and the nun went to the priest and told him that the Superior was dead, and that she had killed her. The priests were immediately all called toge'ther, and the Bishop called upon for counsel. He sen- tenced her to be hung that morning in the chapel before the assembled household. The Abbess came and informed us what had taken place, and directed us to get ready and go to the chapel. When we entered, the doomed girl sat upon a chair on the altar. She was clad in a white robe, with a white cap on her head, and appeared calm, self-possessed, and even joyful. The Bishop asked her if she had anything to say for herself. She immediately rose and said, ^' I have killed the Su- perior, for which I am to be hung. I know that I deserve to die, but I have suffered more than death many times over, from punishments inflicted by her order. For many years my life has been one of continual suffering ; and for what ? For just nothing at all, or for the most simple things. Is it right, is it just to starve a person two whole days for shutting the door a little too hard ? or to burn one with hot irons because a little water was acci- dentally spilt on the floor? Yet for these and similar things I have again and again been tortured within an inch of my life. Now that I am to be hung, I am glad of it, for I shall die quick, and be out of my misery, instead of being tortured to death by inches. I did this thing for this very purpose, for I do not fear death nor anything that t UNPLEASANT ANTICIPATION. 155 cornea after it. Talk about the existence of a Qod! I don't believe a word of it. And the story of heaven and hell, purgatory, and the Virgin Mary ; why, it 's all a humbug, like the rest of the vile stuff you call religion. Religion indeed ! You wont catch us nuns believing it, and more than all that, you don't believe it yourselves, not one of you." She sat down, and they put a cap over her head and face, drew it tight around her neck, adjusted the rope, and she was launched into eternity. To me it seemed a horrid thing, and I could not look upon her dying struggles. I did not justify the girl in what she had done, yet I knew that the woman would have died if she had let her alone ; and I also knew that worse things than that were done in the nunnery almost every day, and that too by the very men who had taken her life. I left the chapel with a firm resolve to make one more effort to escape from a thraldom that every day became more irksome. At the door the Abbess met me, and led me to a room I had never seen before, where, to my great surprise, I found my bed. She said it was removed by her order, and in future I was to sleep in that room. " What ! sleep here alone ? " 1 exclaimed, quite forgetting, in the agitation of the moment, the rule of silent obedience. But she did not con- descend to notice either my question or the un- pleasant feelings which must have been visible in my features. I did feel very much troubled. I had 156 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. ;'<'^ I never slept in a room alone a night in my life. Another nun always occupied the room with me, and when she was absent, as she often was when under punishment, the Abbess slept there, so that I was never alone. I did not often meet the girl with whom I slept, as she did not work in the kitchen, but whenever I did, I felt as pleased as though she had been my sister. Yet I never spoke to her, nor did she ever attempt to converse with me. Yes, strange as it may seem, incredible as my reader may think it, it is a fact, that during all the years we slept together, not one word ever passed between us. We did not even dare to communicate our thoughts by signs, lest the Abbess should detect us. That night I spent in my new room ; but I could not sleep. I had heard strange hints about some room where no one could sleep, and where no one liked to go, though for what reason I could never learn. When I first entered, I discovered that the floor was badly stained, and, while speculating on the cause of those stains, I came to the conclusion that this was the room to which so much mystery was attached. It was very dark, with no window in it, situated in the midst of the house, surrounded by other rooms, and no means of veatilation except the door. I did not close my eyes during the whole night. I imagined that the door opened and shut, that persons were walking in the room, and I am certain that I heard noises near my bed for which I could not account. Altogether, it was the SUPERSTITIOUS FEARS. 157 ;ir UJiS most uncomfortable night I ever spent, and I believe that few persons would have felt entirely at ease in my situation. To such a degree did these superstitious fears assail me, I felt as though I would endure any amount of physical suffering rather than stay there another night. Resolved to brave everything, I went to a priest and asked permission to speak to him. It was an unusual thing, and I think his curiosity was excited, for it was only in extreme cases that a nun ventures to appeal to a priest. When I told him my story, he seemed much sur- prised, and asked by whose order my bed was moved to that room. I informed him of all the particulars, when he ordered me to move my bed back again. " No one," said he, " has slept in that room for years, and we do not wish any one to sleep there." I accordingly moved the bed back, and as I had permission from the priest, the Abbess dared not find fault with me. 14 •^; CHAPTER XX. STUDENTS AT THE ACADEMY. irf: Through the winter I continued to work as usual, leading the same dull, dreary, and monotonous life, varied only by pains, and privations. In the spring a slight change was made in the household arrange- ments, and for a short time I assisted some of the other nuns to do the chamber work for the students at the academy. There was an under-ground pas- sage from the convent to the cellar of the academy through which we passed. Before we entered, the doors and windows were securely fastened, and the students ordered to leave their rooms, and not return again till we had left. They were also for- bidden to speak to us, but whenever thft- teachers were away, they were sure to come back to their rooms, and ask us all manner of questions. They wished to know, they said, how long we were going to stay in the convent, if we really enjoyed the life we had chosen, and were happy in our retirement ; if we had not rather return to the world, go into company, get married, etc. I suppose they really thought that we could leave at any time if we chose. But we did not dare to answer their ques- tions, or let them know the truth. 'hi AT,T, I'OISONKT). 159 V. ^ork as usual, notonous life, In the spring ihold arrange- some of the »r the students sr-ground pas- f the academy re entered, the itened, and the One day, when we went to do the work, we found in one of the rooms, some men who were engaged in painting. They asked us if we were contented. WcHlid not dare to reply, lest they should betray us. They then began to make remarks about us, some of which I well remember. One of them said, " I don't believe they are used very well ; they look as though they were half starved." Another replied, " I know they do ; there is certainly something wrong about these convents, or the nuns would not all look so pale and thin." I suspect the man little thought how much truth there was in his remarks. Soon after the painters left we were all taken suddenly ill. Some were worse than others, but all were unwell except one nun. As all exhibited the same symptoms, we were supposed to have taken poison, and suspicion fastened on that nun. She was put upon the rack, and when she saw that her guilt could not be concealed, she confessed that she poisoned the water in the well, but she would not tell what she put into it, nor where she got it. She said she did not do it to injure the nuns, for she thought they were allowed so little drink with their food, they would not be affected by it, while those who drank more, she hoped to kill. She dis- liked all the priests, and the Superior, and would gladly have murdered them all. But for one priest in particular, she felt all the hatred that a naturally malignant spirit, excited by repeated acts of cruelty, is capable of. He had p%iished her repeatedly, and as she thought, unjustly, and she resolved to *' 160 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNKRY, avenge herself and destroy her enemy, even though the innocent should suffer with the guilty. This was all wrong, fearfully wrong we must admit. But while we look with horror at the enormity of her crime let us remember that she had great provocation. I hope there are few who could have sought revenge in the way she did ; yet I cannot believe that any one would endure from another what she was com- pelled to suffer from that man, without some feel- ings of resentment. Let us not judge too harshly this erring sister, for if her crime was great, her wrongs were neither small nor few, and her pun- ishment was terrible. They tortured her a long time to make her tell what kind of poison she put in the well, and where she obtained it. They supposed she must have got it from the painters, but she would never tell where she procured it. This fact proves that she had some generous feelings left. Under any other circumstances such magnanimity would have been highly applauded, and in my secret soul I could not but admire the firmness with which she bore her sufferings. She was kept upon the rack until all her joints were dislocated, and the flesh around them mortified. They then carried her to her room, removed the bed, and laid her upon the bedcord. The nuns were all assembled to look at her, and take warning by her sad fate. Such a picture of misery I never saw before. She seemed to have suffered evsn more th^ the old lady I saw in the cellar. It was but a moment, however, that we LITTLE SINS. ICl were allowed to gaze upon her shrunken r;liastly features, and then she was hid from our sight ibr- ever. The nuns, except two or three, were sent from the room, and thus the murder was consum- mated. What else can we call it ? There \v as one young student at the academy whose name was Smalley. He was from New England, and his father lived at St. Albans, Vt., where he had wealth and influence. This young man had a little sister who used to visit at the con- vent, whom they called Sissy Smalley. She was young, but handsome, witty and intelligent. For one of her age, she was very much refined in her manners. They allowed her to go anywhere in the building except the private appaitments where those deeds of darkness were performed which would not bear the pure light of heaven. I pre- sume that no argument could convince little Sissy Smalley that such rooms were actually in the nunnery, She had been all over it, she would tell you, and she never saw any torture rooms, never heard of any one being punished, or anything of the kind. Such reports would appear to her as mere slanders, yet God knows they are true. I well remember how I used to shudder to iiear that child praise the nunnery, tell what a nice, quiet place it was, and how she would like it for a per- manent home. I hope her brother will find out the truth about it in season to prevent his beauti- ful sister from ever becomi|g a nun, 14* i ¥\ \ ' ESCAPED A SNARE. l75 to go with her, but when I rose to go to the cars, a look of angry impatience stole over her fine fea- tures, which convinced me that I had et.'.dped a snare. The cars came at length, and I was soon on my way to St. Albans. I was very sick, and asked a gentleman near me to raise the windows. He did so, and inquired how far I was going. I informed him, when he remarked that he was somewhat acquainted in St. Albans, and asked with whom I designed to stop. I told him I had no friends or acquaintance in the place, but I hoped to get employment in some protestant family. He said he could direct me to some gentlemen who would, he thought, assist me. One in particular, he men- tionef* as being a very wealthy man, and kept a number of servants; perhaps he would employ me. This gentleman's name was Branard, and my informant spoke so highly of the family, I immedi- ately sought them out on leaving the cars, and was at once employed by Mrs. Branard, as a seam- stress. Here I found a quiet, happy home. Mrs. Branard was a kind sympathizing woman, and to her, I confided the history of my convent life. She would not allow me to work hard, for she saw that my nerves were easily excited. She made me sit with her in her own room a great part of the time, and did not wish me to go out alone. They had several boarders in the family, and one of nc LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. ^'••i ' ' ! I tliem was a * brother-in-law to Mrs. Branard. His name I have forgotten ; it was not a common name, but he married Mrs. Branard's sister, and with his wife resided there all the time that I w^s with them. Mr. Branard was away from home most of the time, so that I saw but little of him. They had an Irish girl in the kitchen, named Betsy. She was a kind, pleasant girl, and she thought me a strict Eomanist because I said my prayers so often, and wore the Holy Scapulary round my neck. This Scapulary is a band with a cross on one side, and on the other, the letters " J. H. S." which signify, "Jesus The Savior of Man." At this place I professed great regard for the Church of Rome, and no one but Mrs. Branard was acquainted with my real character and history. When they asked my name, I told them they could call me Margaret, but it was an assumed name. My own, for reasons known only by myself, I did not choose to reveal. I supposed, of course, they would regard me with suspicion for a while, but I saw nothing of the kind. They treated me with great respect, and no questions were ever asked. Perhaps I did wrong in changing my name, but I felt that I was justified in using any means to pre* serve my liberty. * This gentleman was Mr Z. K. Pangborn, late editor of the Worcester Daily Transcript. Both Mr. and Mrs. Pangborn give their testimony of the truth of this statement. ■'>^^' CHAPTER XXIII. FLIGHT AND RECAPTURE. Four happy weeks I enjoyed unalloyed satisfac- tion in the bosom of this charming family. It was a new thing for me to feel at home, contented, and undisturbed; to have every one around me treat me with kindness and even affection. I sometimes feared it was too good to last. Mrs. Branard in particular, I shall ever remember with grateful and affectionate regard. She was more like a mother to me, than a mistress, and I shall ever look back to the time I spent with her, as a bright spot in the otherwise barren desert of my life. Better, far better would it have been for me had I never left her. But I became alarmed, and thought the con- vent people were after me. It was no idle whim, no imaginary terror. I had good cause to fear, for I had several times seen a priest go past, and gaze attentively at the house. I knew him at the first glance, having often seen him in Montreal. Then my heart told me that they had traced me to this place, and were now watching a chance to get hold of me. Imagine, if you can, my feelings. Had I suffered so much in vain? Would they be allowed to take me back to those fcrful cells, 17S I.IVV. IN T!IK (!I:F,V Nl'NNlinV. 4 where no ray of mercy could ever reach me ? I could not endure the thought. Frightened, and almost beside myself, I resolved to make an effort to find a more secure place. I therefore left those kind friends in the darkness of night, without ope word of farewell, and without their knowledge. I knew they would not allow me to go, if they were apprised of my design. In all probability, they would have ridiculed my fears, and bade me rest in peace. How could I expect them to comprehend my danger, when they knew so little of the machi- nation of my foes ? I intended to go further into the state, but did not wish to have any one know which way I had gone. It was a sad mistake, but how often in this world do we plunge into danger when we seek to avoid it ! How often fancy our- selves in security when we stand upon the very brink of ruin! I left Mr. Branard's in the evening, and called upon a family in the neighborhood whose acquaint- ance I had made, and whom I wished to see once more, though I dared not say farewell. I left them between the hours of nine and ten, and set forward on my perilous journey. I had gone but a short distance when I heard the sound of wheels and the heavy tread of horses' feet behind me. My heart beat with such violence it almost stopped my breath, for I felt that they were after me. But there was no escape — no forest or shelter near where I could seek protection. On came the furi- ous beasts, driven by no gentle hand. They came TAKEN BACK TO MONTREAL. 179 up with me, and I almost began to hope that my fears were groundless, when the horses suddenly stopped, a strong hand grasped me, a gag was thrust into my mouth, and again the well-known box was taken from the wagon. Another moment and I was securely caged, and on my way back to Montreal. Two men were in the wagon and two rode on horseback beside it. Four men to guard one poor nun ! They drove to Mt. Bly, where they stopped to change horses, and the two men on horseback remained there, while the other two mounted the wagon and drove to Sorel. Here the box was taken out and carried on board a boat, where two priests were waiting for me. When the boat started, they took me out for the first time after I was put into it at St. Albans. Three days we had been on the way, and I had tasted neither food nor drink. How little did I think when I took my tea at Mr. Branard's the night I left that it was the last refreshment I would have for ^i-Dsn daps ; yet such was the fact. And how little did they think, as they lay in their quiet beds that night, that the poor fugitive they had taken to their home was fleeing for life, or for that which, to her, was better than life. Yet so it was. Bitterly did I reproach myself for leaving those kind friends as I did, for I thought perhaps if I had remained there, they would not have dared to touch me. Such were my feelings then ; but as I now look back, I can see that it would have made little difference \ 180 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. : 1 i 1 i i! ; 1 "1 11 , 1 : 1 ijl ' whether I left or remained. They were bound to get me, at all events, and if I had stopped there until they despaired of catching me secretly, they would undoubtedly have come with an officer, and accused me of some crime, as a pretext for taking me away. Then, had any one been so far inter- ested for me as to insist on my having a fair trial, how easy for them to produce witnesses enough to condemn me ! Those priests have many ways to accomplish their designs. The American peo- ple don't know them yet ; God grant they never may. On my arrival at the nunnery I was taken down the coal grate, and fastened to an iron ring in the back part of a cell. The Archbishop then came down and read my punishment. Notwithstanding the bitter grief that oppressed my spirit, I could not repress a smile of contempt as the great man entered my cell. I remembered that before I ran away, my punishments were assigned by a priest, but the first time I fled from them a Bishop con- descended to read my sentence, and now his honor the Archbishop graciously deigned to illume my dismal cell with the light of his countenance, and Ms own august lips pronounced the words of doom. Was I rising in their esteem, or did they think to frighten me into obedience by the grandeur of his majestic mien ? Such were my thoughts as this illustrious per- sonage proceeded slowly, and with suitable dignity, to unroll the document that would decide my fate. CONSOLING THOUGHT. 181 What would it be? Death? It might be for aught I knew, or cared to know. I had by this time become perfectly reckless, and the whole pro- ceeding seemed so ridiculous, I found it exceed- ingly difficult to maintain a demeanor sufficiently solemn for the occasion. But when the fixed decree came for^h, when the sentence fell upon my ear that condemned me to seven days^ starvation^ it sobered me at once. Yet even then the feeling of indignation was so strong within me, I could not hold my peace. I would speak to that man, if he lulled me for it. Looking him full in the face (which, by the way, I knew was considered by him a great crime), I asked, " Do you ever expect to die ? " I did not, of course, expect an answer, but he replied, with a smile, " Yes ; but you will die first." He then asked how long I had fasted, and I replied, " Three days." He said, " You will fast four days more, and you will be punished every day until next December, when you will take the black veil." As he was leaving the room, he remarked, ** We do not usually have the nuns take the black veil until they j*re twenty-one ; but you have such good luck in getting away, we mean to put you where you can 't do it." And with this consoling thought he left me — left me in darkness and despair, to combat, as best I could, the horrors of starvation. This was in the early part of winter, and only about a year would transpire before I entered that retreat from which none ever returned. And then to be punished every day for a year! What a 16 ^ '> 182 LIFE IN THE QRET NUNNERY. 't ' prospect ! The priest came every morning, with his dark lantern, to look a^ me; but he never spoke. On the second day a. it my return, I told him if he would bring me a little piece of bread, I would never attempt to run away again, but would serve him faithfully the rest of my life. Had he given it to me, I would have faithfully kept my word ; but he did not notice me, and closing the door, he left me once more to pass through all the agonies of starvation. I remember nothing after that day. Whether I remained in the cell the other two days, or was taken out before the time expired, I do not know. This much, however, I do know, as a general rule a nun's punishment is never remitted. If she lives, it is well ; if she dies, no matter ; there are enough more, and no one will ever call them to an account for the murder. But methinks I hear the reader ask, " Did they not fear the judgment of God and a future retribu- tion ?" In reply I can only state what I believe to be the fact It is my firm belief that not more than one priest in teu thousand really believes in the truth of Christianity, or even in the existence of a God. They are all Infidels or Atheists ; and how can they be otherwise ? It is the legitimate fruit of that system of deceit which they call religion. Of course I only give this as my opinion, founded on what I have seen and heard. You can take it, reader, for what it is worth ; believe it or not, just as you please ; but I assure you I have often heard the nuns say that they did not believe RETUIININO CONSCIOUSNESS. 1F3 ng, with he never rn, I told of bread, gain, but afe. Had ^j kept my losing the igh all the .thing after le cell the e the time however, I nishment is if she dies, no one will arder. :,u Did they iture retribu- 1 1 believe to at not more y believes in the existence Uheists; and he legitimate ich they call .8 my opinion, ird. You can believe it or e you I have [id not beUeve in any religion. The professions of holiness of heart and purity of life so often made by the priests they know to be nothing but a hypocritical pre- tence, and their ceremonies they regard as a ridic- ulous farce. For some time after I was taken from the cell I lay in a state of partial unconsciousness, but how long, I do not know. I have no recollection of being taken up stairs, but I found myself on my bed, in my old room, and on the stand beside me were several cups, vials, etc. The Abbess who sat beside me, occasionally gave me a lea-spoon- ful of wine or brandy, and tried to make me eat. Ere long, my appetite returned, but it was several weeks before my stomach was strong enough to enable me to satisfy in any degree, the cravings of hunger. When I could eat, I gained very fast, and the Abbess left me in the care of a nun, who came in occasionally to see if I wanted anything. This nun often stopped to talk with me, when she thought no one was near, and expressed great curi- osity to know what I saw in the world ; if people were kind to me, and if I did not mean to get away tigain, if possible. I told her I should not ; but she replied, " I don't believe that. You will try again, and you will succeed yet, if you keep up good courage. You are so good to work, they do not wish to part with you, and that is one rea- son why they try so hard to get you back again. But never mind, they won't get you next time." I assured her I should not try to escape again, for 184 I.irE IN THE GREY KUNNIRY. 1^ 'Hl^ li u i i! they were sure to catch me, and as they had almost killed me this time, they would quite the next. I did not dare to trust her, for I supposed the Superior had given her orders to question me. I was still weak, so weak that I could hardly walk when they obliged me to go into the kitchen to clean vegetables and do other light work, and as soon as I had sufficient strength, to milk the cows, and take the care of the milk. They punished me every day, in accordance with the Bishop's order, and sometimes, I thought, more than he intended. I wore thorns on my head, and peas in my shoes, was whipped and pinched, burnt with hot irons, and made to crawl through the underground pas- sage I have before described. In short, I was tor- tured and punished in every possible way, until I was weary of my life. Still they were careful not to go so far as to disable me from work. They did not care how much I suffered, if- 1 only performed my daily task. There was an underground passage leading from the nunnery to a place which they called, " Provi- dence," in the south part of the city. I do not know whether it is a school, or a convent, or what it is, but I think it must be some distance, from what I heard said about it. The priest often spoke of sending me there, but for some reason, he did not make me go. Still the frequent reference to what I so much dreaded, kept me in constant apprehension and alarm. I have heard the priest say that underground passages extended from the UNDERG HOUND PASSAGES. 185 convent in every direction, for a distance of five miles ; and I have reason to believe the statement is true. But these reasons I may not attempt to give. There are things that may not even be alluded to, and if it were possible to speak of them, who would believe the story ? 16* *>i ^ CHAPTER XXIV. li RESOLVES TO ESCAPE. t. As summer approached, I expected to be sent to the farm again, but for some reason I was still employed in the kitchen. Yet I could not keep my mind upon my work. The one great object of my life; the subject that continually pressed upon my mind was the momentous question, how shall I escape ? The dreaded December was rap- idly approaching. To some it would bring a joy- ous festival, but to me, the black veil and a life long imprisonment. Once within those dreary walls, and I might as well hope to escape from the grave. Such are the arrangements, there is no chance for a nun to escape unless she is promoted to the office of Abbess or Superior. Of course, but few of them can hope for this, especially, if they are not contented ; and certainly, in my case there was not the least reason to expect anything of the kind. Knowing these facts, with the hor- rors of the Secret Cloister ever before me, I felt some days as though on the verge of madness. Before the nuns take the black veil, and enter this tomb for the living, they are put into a room by themselves, called the forbidden closet, where they '«' be sent 1 was still L not keep feat object [ly pressed 3stion, how erwas rap- 3ring a joy- and a life lose dreary 5scape from , there is no is promoted Of course, especially) if , in my case Bct anything ath the hor- re me, I felt of madness. ,nd enter this 3 a room by it, where they THE FORBIDDEN CLOSET. 187 spend six months in studying the Black Book. Perchance, the reader will remember that when I first came to this nunnery, I was taken by the door- tender to this forbidden closet, and permitted to look in upon the wretched inmates. From that time I always had the greatest horror of that room. I was never allowed to enter it, and in fact never wished to do so, but I have heard the most agoniz- ing groans from those within, and sometimes I have heard them laugh. Not a natural, hearty laugh, however, such as we hear from the gay and happy, but a strange, terrible, sound which I can- not describe, and which sent a thrill of terror through my frame, and seemed to chill the very blood in my veins. I have heard the priests say, when conversing with each other, while I was tidying their room, that many of these nuns lose their reason while studying the Black Book. I can well believe this, for never in my life did I ever witness an expres- sion of such unspeakable, unmitigated anguish, such helpless and utter despair as I saw upon the faces of those nuns. And w^U they may despair. Kept under lock and key, their windows barred, and no air admitted to the room except what comes through the iron grate of their windows from other apartments; compelled to study, I know not what ; with no hope of the least mitigation of their sufferings, or relaxation of the stringent rules that bind them ; no prospect before them but a life- long imprisonment ; what have they to hope for ? ■i gDJHIgl H 188 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. Surely, death and the grave are the only things to which they can look forward with the least degree of satisfaction. Those nuns selected for this Secret Cloister are generally the fairest, the most beautiful of the whole number. I used to see them in the chapel, and some of them were very handsome. They dressed like the other nuns, and always looked sad and broken hearted, but were not pale and thin like the rest of us. I am sure they were not kept upon short allowance as the others were, and star- vation was not one of their punishments, whatever else they might endure. The plain looking girls were always selected to work in the kitchen, and do the drudgery about the house. How often have I thanked God for my plain face ! But for that, I might not have been kept in the kitchen so long, and thus found means to escape which I certainly could not have found elsewhere. With all my watching, and planning I did not find an opportunity to get away till June. I then succeeded in getting outside the convent yard one evening between eight and nine o'clock. How I got there, is a secret I shall -ilfeVer reveal. A few yards from the gate I was stopped by one of the guard at the Barrack, who asked where I was going. " To visit a sick woman," I promptly replied, and he let me pass. Soon after this, before my heart ceased to flutter, I thought I heard some one running after me. My resolution was at once taken. I would never be caught and carried back FIVE PRITISTS IN PURSUIT. 189 tiiiigs to t degree ►ister are 1 of the e chapel, 1. They )oked sad and thin not kept and star- , whatever .king girls tchen, and often have ; for that, 1 en so long, I certainly g I did not ine. I then nt yard one ck. How I eal. A few V one of the vhere I was I promptly ;r this, before : heard some was at once carried back alive. My fate was at last, I thought, in my own hands. Better die at once than to be chained like a guilty criminal, and suffer as I had done before. Blame me not gentle reader, when I tell you that I stood upon the bank of the river with exultant joy; and, as I pursued my way along the tow-path, ready to spring into the water on the first indica- tion of danger, I rejoiced over the disappointment of my pursuers in losing a servant who had done them so good service. At a little distance I saw a ferry boat, but when I asked the captain to carry me over the river, he refused. He was, probably, afraid of the police and a fine, for no one can assist a run-away nun with impunity, if caught in the act. He directed me, however, to the owner of the boat, who said I could go if the captain was willing to carry me. I knew very well that he would not, and I took my place in the boat as though I had a perfect right to it. We were almost across the river, when the cap- tain saw me, and gave orders to turn back the boat, and leave me on the shore from whence we started. From his appearance I thought we were pursued, and I was not mistaken. Five priests were follow- ing us in another boat, and they too, turned back, and reached the shore almost as soon as we did. I left the boat and ran for my life. I was now sure that I was pursued ; there could be no doubt of that, for the sound of footsteps behind me came distinct to my ear. At a little distance stood a small, white house. Could I not reach it ? Would jBMMi ■ ' H/ li!i '■'.1 " •1 f I I 190 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. not the people protect me ? The thought gave me courage, and I renewed my efforts. Nearer came the footsteps, but I reached the house, and without knocking, or asking permission, I. sprang through the door. The people were in bed, in another room, but a man looked out, and asked what I wanted. " I'm a nun," said I. " I've run away from the Grey Nunnery, and they're after me. Hide me, O hide me, and God will bless you ! " As I spoke he put out his hand and opened the cellar door. " Here," said he, " run down cellar, I'll be with you in a moment." I obeyed, and he struck a light and followed. Pointing to a place where he kept ashes, he said hastily, " Crawl in there." There was not a moment to lose, for before he had cov- ered up my hiding place, a loud knock was heard upon the front door. Having extinguished his light, he ran up stairs, and opened the door with the appearance of having just left his bed. " "Who is here ? " he asked, " and what do you want this time of night? One of them replied, "We are in search of a nun, and are very sure she came in here ? " " "Well gentlemen," said he, "walk in, and see for yourselves. If she is here, you are at lib- erty to find her." Lighting a candle, he proceeded to guide them over the house, which they searched until they were satisfied. They then came down cellar, and I gave up all hope of escape. Still, I resolved never to be taken alive. I could strangle myself, and I would do it, rather than suffer as I STILL IN DANGER. 191 did before. At that moment I could truly say with the inspired penman, with whose lan- guage I have since become familiar, "my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life." They looked all around me, and even into the place where I lay concealed, but they did not find me. At length I heard them depart, and so great was my joy, I could hardly restrain my feelings within the bounds of decorum. I felt as though I must dance and sing, shout aloud or leap for joy at my great deliverance. I am sure I should have committed some extravagant act had not the gen- tleman at that moment called me up, and told me that my danger was by no means past. This information so dashed my cup of bliss that I was able to drink it quietly. He gave me some refreshment, and as soon as safety would permit, saddled his horse, and taking me on behind him, carried me six miles to another boat, put me on board, and paid the captain three dollars to carry me to Laprairie. On leaving me, he gave me twenty-five cents, and said, " you'll be caught if you go with the other passengers." The captain said he could hide me and no one know that I was on board, but himself. He led me to the -end of the boat, and put me upon a board over the horses. He fixed a strong cord for me to hold on by, and said, " you must be careful and not fall down, for the horses would certainly kill you before you could be taken out." The captain was very kind to me and when I left him, gave me twenty- '1 J, 1 •# i. :.' 192 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. five cents, and some good advice. He said I must hurry along as fast as possible, for it was Jubilee, and the priests would all be in church at four o'clock. He also advised me not to stop in any place where a Romish priest resided, "for," said he, " tbe convent people have, undoubtedly, telegraphed all over the country giving a minute description of your person, and the priests will all be looking for you." Two days I travelled as fast as my strength would allow, when I came to Sorel, which was on the other side of the river. Here I saw several priests on the road coming directly towards me. That they were after me, I had not a doubt. Whither should I flee? To escape by running, was out of the question, but just at that moment my eye fell upon a boat near the shore. I ran to the captain, and asked him to take me across the river. He consented, and, as I expected, the priests took another boat and followed us. Once more I gave myself up for lost, and prepared to spring into the water, if they were likely to overtake me. The man understood my feelings, and exerted all his strength to urge forward the boat. At last it reached the shore, and as he helped me out he whispered, " Now run." I did run, but though my own liberty was at stake I could not help thinking about the consequences to that man if I escaped, for I knew they would make him pay a heavy fine for his benevolent act. A large house stood in my way, and throwing open the door I exclaimed, '.%• ■^ OHANOEMEK. UiH " Are there any protestants here ?" ** O, yes," replied a man who sat there, *' come with me." He led me to the kitchen, where a large company of Irish men were rolling little balls on a table. I saw the men were Iri^h, and my first thought was, " I am betrayed." But my fears were soon relieved, for the man exclaimed, " Here is a nun, inquiring for protest- ants." ** Well," replied one who seemed to be a leader, *^ this is the right place to find them. We are all true Orange men." And then they all began to shout, <* Down with the Catholics ! Down with the Pope! Death to the Jesuits! etc." I was frightened at their violence, but their leader came to me, and with the kindness of a brother, said, *< Do not fear us. If you are a run-away, we will protect you. He bade the men be still, and asked if any one was after rae." I told him about the priests, and he replied, *: : (^ 1 1 i,i Before he had done speaking, a man came to the door and said, " The carriage is ready." Another of the men, on hearing this, said, « Come with me, and ril take you out of tlie reach of the priests." He conducted me to a carriage, which was covered and the curtains all fastened down. He helped me into it, directing me to sit upon the back seat, where I could not be seen by any one unless they took particular pains. He drove to St. Oars that night, and, if I remember right, he said the distance was twelve miles. When he left me he gave me twenty-five cents. I travelled all night, and about midnight passed through St. Dennis. But I did not stop until the next morning, when I called at a house and asked for something to eat. The lady gave me some bread and milk, and I again pursued my way. CHAPTER XXV. EVENTFUL JOURNEY. Once more I had the good fortune to obtain a passage across the river in a ferry-boat, and was soon pressing onward upon the other side. Passing through two places called St. Mary's and St John's, I followed the railroad to a village which I was informed was called Stotsville,* a great part of the property being owned by a Mr. Stots, to whom I was at once directed. Here I stopped, and was kindly received by the gentleman and his wife. They offered ihe refreshments, gave me some arti- cles of clothing, and then he carried me twelve miles, and left me at Bouse.'s Point, to take the cars for Albany. He gave me six doUars to pay my expenses, and a letter of introduction to a gen- tleman by the name of Williams, in which he stated all the facts he knew concerning me, and commended me to his care for protection. I think he said Mr. Williams lived on North Pearl street, but I may be mistaken in this and also in some ^ I beg leave once more to remind the reader that it is by no means certain that I give these names correctly. Hearing them pronounced, with no idea of ever referring to them again, it is not strange that mistakes of this kind should occur. h t 1- (■I/ ^^.r 1 III! 196 LIFE IN THE ORET NUNNEBY. other particulars. As I had no thought of relating these facts at the time of their • jcarreoce, I did not fix them in my mind as I otherwise should have done. Mr. Stots said that if I could not find the gen- tleman to whom the letter was directed, I waa to take it to the city authorities, and they would pro- tect me. As he assisted me from the carri ir,e he said, " You will stop here until the cars come :iU ii,g, and you must get your own ticket. I shall not. notice you again, and I do not wish you to ppeak to me." I entered the depot intending to follow his directions ; but when I found the cars would not come along for three hours, I did not dare to stay. There was quite a large collection of people there, and I feared that some one would suspect and atop me. I therefore resolved to follow the railroad, and walk on to the next station. On my way I passed over a railroad bridge, which I should think was two miles long. The wind blew very hard at the time, and I found it exceedingly diffi- cult to walk upon the narrow timbers. More than once I came near losing my precarious footing, and I was in constant fear that the train would over- take me before I got over. In that case I had resolved to step outsine Tv" irack where I thought I could stand upon ) Ig uf the b^iage and hold on by the telegraph poles, and thus let them pass without doing me injury. Happily, however, I was not compelled to resort to this perilous expe- dient, but passed the bridge in safety. At the "are you mad?" 197 end I found " nothei n^iiTly as long, connected with it by a drawbridgr When I drew near it was up for a boat lo pass ; but a pnan called to me, and asked if I wish fo go over. I tdd him I di I, and he let down the bridge. As I approached him he asked, " Are you mad ? or how came yo« here ? " I told him I had walked from the depot at Rouse's Point. He appeared greatly surprii»ed, and said, " You are the first person who ever walked over that bridge. Will you come to my house and rest awhile ? You must be very weary, and my wife will be glad to see you. She is rather lonely here, and is pleased to see any one. W'U you come ? 'Tis only a short distance, just down under the bridge." Those last words decided me. I thanked him, but firmly refused to go one step out of my way. I thought that he wished to deceive me, perhaps take me to some out-of-the-way place, and give me up to my pursuers. At all events, it was wise not to trust him, for I was sure there was no house near the bridge, certainly not under i . I have since learned that such is the fact. As I turned to leave him, he again urged me to stop, and said, '' The cars will soon be along, and they will run over you. How do you expect to get out of their way ? " I told him I would risk it, and left him. I passed on in safety, and soon came to the depot, where I took the evening train for Albany. At eight the same evening I left the cars, and walked on towards Troy, which I think was four miles distant. Here I met a lad, of whom I inquired the 17* i ,[/ ' ! ■* 198 LIFE IN THE GRET NUNNERY. way to Albany. " You cannot get there to-night," said he, " and I advise you not to try." When he saw that I was determined to go on, he said I would pass a tavern called the half-way house, and if I was tired I could stop there. It was about eleven o'clock when I passed this house. There were several persons on the piazza, laughing, talk- ing, and singing, who called me as I passed, shouted after me, and bade me stop. Exceedingly fright- ened, I ran with all possible speed, but they contin- ued to call after me till I was out of hearing. Seeing a light at a house near by, I ventured to rap on the door. It was opened by a woman, who asked me to walk in. I inquired the distance to Albany. She informed me, but said, " You can 't go there to-night." I told her I must. " "Well," said she, " if you will go, the watch will take care of you when you get there." She then asked, " Were those men calling after you ? " I told her I supposed they were, when she replied, with a peculiar smile, " I guess you crai 't be a very nice kind of girl, or you would n't be on the street this time of night." My feelings were so deeply wounded I could hardly restrain my tears at this cruel insinuation ; but pride came to my aid, and, choking down the rising emotion, I replied as care- lessly as possible, '' I must do as I can, and not as I would." It was about one o'clock at night when I entered the principal street in Albany, and, as the lady predicted, a watchman came to me and asked why % ARRIVAL AT ALBANY. 19a I was out that time of night. I gave him Mr. Stot's letter. He stood beside a lamp-post and read it, when he seemed satisfied, and said, " I know the man ; come with me and I'll take you to his house." I followed him a long way, till at last he stopped before a large house, and rang the bell. Mr. Williams came to the door, and asked what was wanted. The watchman gave him the letter. He read it, and invited me to stop. His wife got up, received me very kindly, and gave me some supper, for which I was truly grateful. Nor was I less thankful for the delicate consideration with which they avoided any allusion to my con- vent life, or my subsequent flight and sufiering. Mrs. Williams saw that I was sad and weary, and as she conducted me to a comfortable bed, she remarked, " You are safe at last, and I am glad of it. You can now retire without the apprehension of danger, and sleep in perfect security. You are with friends who will protect you as long as you choose to remain with us." Notwithstanding the good lady's assurance of safety, I found it impossible to close my eyes. I was among strangers, in a strange place, and, hav- ing been so often deceived, might I not be again ? Perhaps, after all their pretended kindness, they were plotting to betray me. A few days, however, convinced me that I had at last found real friends, who would protect me in the hour of danger to the utmost of their ability. » I remained here some four weeks, and should • I 200 LIFE IN THE GBEY NUNNERY. (i ' i i!;l: ' 'fl ; : fi' have remained longer, but an incident transpired that awakened all my fears, and again sent me forth into the wide world, a fugitive, and a wan- derer. I went to my chamber one night, when I heard a sound like the full, heavy respiration o^ a man in deep sleep. The sound appeared to come from under the bed, but stopped as I entered the room. I was very much alarmed, but I controlled my feelings, and instead of running shrieking from the room, I deliberately closed the blinds, shut the windows, adjusted the curtain, all the time carelessly humming a tune, and taking up my lamp I slowly left the room. Once outside the door, I ran in all haste to Mr. Williams, and told him what I had heard. He laughed at me, said it was all imagination, but, to quiet my fears, he went to my room resolved to convince me that no one was there. I followed, and stood at the door while he lifted the bed valance, when a large, taU man sprang forth, and caught him with one hand while with the other he drew a pistol from beneath his coat saying, " Let me go, and I'll depart in peace; but attempt to detain me, and I'll blow your brains out." I shrieked, and Mrs. Williams came in great terror and consternation, to see what was the matter. But she could render no assis- tance, and Mr. Williams, being unarmed, was obliged to let him go. The watch were immedi- ately called, and they sought for the intruder in every direction. No effort was spared to find him, that we might, at least, learn the object of this ( .'^ FRUITLESS SEARCH. 201 untimely visit. But the search was all in vain. No trace of his whereabouts could be discovered. Mr. Williams said he did not believe it was me he sought. He thought the object was robbery, and perhaps arson and murder, but he would not think that I was in the least danger. " The man," he said, ^' in hastily concealing himself had taken the first hiding place he could find." Yet I thought otherwise. Indeed, bo sure was I that he was an agent of the priests, sent forth for the express purpose of arresting me, no earthly consid- eration would have induced me to remain there another day. The rest of that night I spent in a state of anxiety I cannot describe. Sleep fled from my eyes. I dared not even undress and go to bed, but I sat in my chair, or walked the room every moment expecting the return of the myste- rious visitor. I shuddered at every sound, whether real or imaginary. Once in particular, I remem- ber, the distant roll of carriage wheels fell upon my ear. I listened ; it came near, and still nearer, till at last it stopped, as I thought, at the gate. For a moment I stood literally stupified with ter- ror, and then I hastily prepared to use the means for self destruction I had already provided in anticipation of such an emergency. I was still resolved never to be taken alive. " Give me lib- erty or give me death," was now the language of my soul. If I could not enjoy the one, I would cordially embrace the other. But it was a sad alternative after all I had suffered that I might be 202 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. fc ! ;? i ;f 'i free, after all my buoyant hopes, all my ardent aspirations for a better life. O, it was a bitter thing, thus to stand in the darkness of night, and with my own hand carefully adjust the cord that was to cut me off from the land of the living, and in a moment launch my trembMng soul into the vast, unknown, untried, and fearful future, that men call eternity ! Was this to be the only use I was to make of liberty ? Was it for this I had so long struggled, toiled, wept and prayed ? " God of mercy," I cried, " save, O save me from this last great "sin ! From the sad and dire necessity which thus urges me to cut short a life which thou alone canst give!" My prayer was heard; but how slowly passed the hours of that weary night while I waited for the day that I might " hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest." Tru- ly, at that time I could say with one of old, " Fear- fulness and trembling are come upon me, and hor- ror hath overwhelmed me. My heart is sore pained within me, and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Oh that I had the wings of a dove, for then would I flee away, and be at rest." But alas ! I had not the wings of a dove, and whither should I flee from the furious grasp of my relentless persecutors ? Again I must go forth into the " busy haunts of men," I must mingle with the multitude, and what chance had I for ultimate escape? If I left these kind friends, and leave them I must, who would take me in ? In whom could I confide ? Who would have the power to AGAIN COMPELLED TO FLEE. 203 my ardent as a bitter ' night, and B cord that I living, and (ul into the future, that B only use I his I had so ed? "God fom this last essity which h thou alone i; but how ' night while « hasten my pest." Tru- old,"Feai- me, and hor- s sore pained fallen upon >ve, for then a dove, and grasp of my I go forth into igle with the [for ultimate and leave J? In whom (the power to rescue me in my hour of need ? In God alone could I trust, yet why is he so far from helping me? Why are my prayers so long unanswered ? And why does he thus allow the wicked to triumph ; to lay snares for the feet of the innocent, and wrong- fully persecute those whom their wanton cruelty hath caused to sit in darkness and in the shadow of death ? Why does he not at once " break the bands of iron, and let the oppressed go free ? " The tedious night at length passed away. When I met Mr. Williams in the morning, I told him I could no longer remain with him, for I was sure if I did, I should be suddenly arrested in some unguarded moment, and carried back to Montreal. He urged me to stay, assured me he would never allow them to take me, said that he thought some of going south, and I could go with him, and thus be removed far from all vsrhom I feared. Mrs. WiUiams, also, strove to persuade me to stay. But, though sorry to appear ungrate- ful, I dared not remain another night where I felt that my danger was so great. When they found that I was determined to go, Mr. Williams said I had better go to Worcester, Mass., and try to get employment in some farmer's family, a little out of the city. He gave me money to bear my expenses, until I found a place where I could earn my living. It was with a sad heart that I left this hospitable roof, and as I turned away I said in my heart, " Shall I always be hunted through the world in this manner, obliged to flee like a guilty thing, and shall I never find a I w^r 'f W 1' i; I' f' ^1 H . .J. j 1^ 1 1 ; i ' !l ^t \ II 204 LIFE 1\ THE GHKY NUNNERY. home of happiness and peace ? Must sorrow and despair forever be the portion of my cup?" But no words of mine can describe what I felt at that moment. I longed for the power to sound a warn- ing through the length and breadth of the land, to cry in the ears of all the people, " Beware oi" Ro- manism ! " Like the patient man of Uz, with whose history I have since become familiar, I was ready to exclaim, " O that my words were now written ! O that they were printed in a book ! Graven with an iron pen," that the whole world might know what a fearful and bitter thing it is to be a nun ! To be subject to the control of those ruthless tyrants, the Romish Priests. Once more I ntered the depot, and mingled with the crowd around the ticket office. But no pen can describe my terror when I found myself the object of particular attention. I heard people remark about my strange and unnatural appear- ance, and I feared I might be taken up for a crazy person, if not for a nun. Thinking that I saw an enemy in every face, and a pursuer in every one who came near me, I hastened to take refuge in the cars. There I waited with the greatest impatience for the starting of the train. Slowly the cars were filled; very leisurely the passengers sought their seats, while I sat trembling in every limb, and the cold perspiration starting from every pore. How carefully I scanned every face! how eagerly I watched for some indication of the priest or the spy ! So intense was my anxiety, those few mo- ments seemed to me an age of agony. At length f. t sonow and cup?" But I felt at that ound a wain- f the land, to eware ot Ro- rz, with whose r, I was ready now written ! ! Graven with I might know J to be a nun ! those ruthless ;, and mingled affice. But no found myself I heard people natural appear- a up for a crazy g that I saw an n every one who jfuge in the cars. ; impatience for y the cars were ers sought their ry limb, and the /ery pore. How how eagerly I the priest or the y, those few mo- rony. At length 1! ;i (. ^. AT WORCESTER. 206 the shrill whistle announced that all was ready, and like sweetest music the sound fell upon my ears. The train dashed ojff at lightning speed, but to me it seemed like the movement of a snail. Once under way, I ventured to breathe freely, and hope again revived. Perchance I might yet escape. But even as the thought passed my mind, a man entered the cars and seated himself directly, before me. I thought he regarded me with too much interest, and thinking to shun him, I quietly left my seat and retired to the other end of the car. He soon followed, and again my fears re- vived. He at first tried to converse with me, but finding I would not reply, he began to question me in the most direct and impertinent manner. Again I changed my seat, and again he followed. I then sought the conductor, and revealed to him enough of my history to enlist his sympathy and ensure his protection. To his honor be it spoken, I did not appeal to him in vain. He severely reproved the man for his impertinence ; and for the rest of the journey I was shielded from insult or injury. Nothing further of interest transpired until I reached Worcester, when the first face that met my eye as I was about to leave the cars was that of a Romish priest I could not be mistaken, for I had often seen him at Montreal. He might not have been looking for me, but he watched every passenger as they left the cars in a way that con- vinced me he had some special reason for doing it. As I, too, had special reasons for avoiding him 18 ^*^' ¥\ m 'iili: ; I I i I 'i i 206 LIFE IN TOE GREY NUNNERY. just at that time, I stepped back out of sight until the passengers were all out of the cars and the priest had turned away. I then sprang out upon the opposite side, and, turning my back upon the depot, hastened away amid the wilderness of houses, not knowing whither I went. For a 'long time I wandered around, until at length, being faint and weary, I began to look for some place where I could obtain refreshment. But when I found a restaurant I did not dare to enter. A number of Irishmen were standing around who were in all probability Catholics. I would not venture among them; but as I turned aside I remembered that Mr. Williams had directed me to seek employment a little out of the city. I then inquired the way to Main street, and having found it, I turned to the north and walked on till I found myself out of the thickly settled part of the city. Then I began to seek for employment, and after several fruitless applications I chanced to call upon a man whose name was Handy. He received me in the kindest manner, and when I asked for work, he said his wife did not need to hire me, but I was welcome to stop with them and work for my boa^ until I found employment elsewhere. This c^er I joyfully accepted ; and, as I became acquainted in the place, many kind hands were extended to aid me in my efforts to obtain an honest living. In this neighborhood I still reside, truly thankful for past deliverance, grateful for present mercies, and confidently trusting God for the future. CHAPTER XXVI. CONCLUSION. Here closes the history of Sarah J. Richardson; as related by herself. The remaining particulars have been obtained from her employers in Worces- ter. She arrived in this city August, 1854, and, as she has already stated, at once commenced seeking for employment. She called at many houses before she found any one who wished for help ; and her first question at each place was, " Are you a Cath- olic ? " If the answer was in the affirmative, she passed on, but if the family were Protestants, she inquired for some kind of employment. She did not care what it was ; she would cook, wash, sew, or do chamber-work — anything to earn her bread. A Mr. Handy was the first person who took her in, and gave her a home. In his family she worked for her board a few weeks, going out to wash occa- sionally as she had opportunity. She then went to Holden Mass., but for some reason remained only one week, and again returned to Worces- ter. Mr.. Ezra Goddard then took her into his own family, and found her capable, industrious, and 1* i' II rr^ i; I I /■" 1 V . t ^ \ > 1 208 L f ' \ ■x !r ji « LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. trustworthy. Had anything been wanting to prove her truthfulness and sincerity, the deep gratitude of her fervent " I thank you," when told that she had found a permanent home, would have done it effectually. But though her whole appearance indicated contentment and earnestness of purpose, though her various duties were faithfully and zeal- ously performed, yet the deep sadness of her coun- tenance, and the evident anxiety of her mind at first awakened a suspicion of mental derangement. She seemed restless, suspicious, and morbidly apprehensive of approaching danger. The appear- ance of a stranger, or a sudden ringing of the bell, would cause her to start, tremble, and exhibit the greatest perturbation of spirit. In fact, she seemed so constantly on the qui vive, the lady of the house one day said to i/'?r, " Sarah, what is the matter with you ? what do you fear ? " " The Roman Catholic priests," she replied. '^I have been a nun. I ran away from the Grey Nunnery at Mon- treal, and twic6 I have been caught, carried back, and punished in the most cruel manner. O, if you knew what I have suffered, you would not wonder that I live in constant fear lest they again seek out my retreat; and I will die before I go back again." Further questioning drew from her the foregoing narrative, which she repeated once and again to va- rious persons, and at different times, without the least alteration or contradiction. She resided in the family of Mr. Goddard some weeks, when she was taken into the employ of Mr. Amos B. Black. LIFE WRITTEN. 209 ting to prove ep gratitude old that she d have done 5 appearance \s of pur'pose, ally and zeal- 3 of her coun- ' her mind at derangement, and morbidly The appear- ing of the bell, md exhibit the act, she seemed ly of the house is the matter "The Eoman I have been a annery at Mon- it, canied back, iner. O, if you ,uld not wonder again seek out Igo back again." ler the foregoing md again to va- ^es, without the She resided in eeks, when she Amos E. Black. This gentleman informs us that he found her a faithful, industrious, honest servant, and he has not the least doubt of the truthfulness of her state- ments respecting her former life in the Convent. A few weeks after this, she was married to Frederick S. Richardson with whom she became acquainted soon after her arrival in the city of Worcester. The marriage ceremony was per- formed by Charles Chaffin, Esq., of Holden, Mass. After their marriage, her husband hired a room in the house occupied by Mr. Handy with whom she had formerly resided. After a few weeks, however, they removed to a place called the Drury farm. It is owned by the heirs, but left in the care of Mr. Ezra Goddard. Previous to her marriage, Mrs. Richardson had often been advised to allow her history to be placed before the public. But she always replied, " For my life I would not do it. Not because I do not wish the world to know it, for I would gladly proclaim it wherever a Romanist is known, but it would be impossible for me to escape their hands should I make myself so public. They would most assuredly take my life." After her marriage, however, her principal objection was removed. She thought they would not wish to take her back into the nunnery, and her husband would protect her from violence. She therefore related the story of her life while in the convent, which, in accord- ance with her own request, was written down from her lips as she related it. This was done by Mrs. 18* ^ 'f^ , "^ I ^ : > ; U 210 LIFE IN THE GREY NU.tNERY. Lucy Ann Hood, wife of Edward P. Hood, and daughter of Ezra Goddard. It is now given to the public without addition or alteration, and with but a slight abridgment. A strange and startling story it certainly is. Perhaps the reader will cast it aside at once as a worthless fiction, — the idle vagary of an excited brain. The compiler, of course, cannot vouch for its truth, but would respectfully invite the attention of the reader to the following testi- monials .presented by those who have known the narrator. The first is from Edward P. Hood, with whom Mrs. Richardson resided when her narrative was written. (testimoxt ofedwabd p. hood.) To all whom it may concern. I hereby certify that I was personally acquainted with Sarah J. Richards, now Sarah J. Richardson, at the time she resided in Worcester,Mass. I first saw her at the house of Mr. Ezra Goddard, where she came seeking employment. She appeared anxious to get some kind of work, was willing to do anything to earn an honest living. She had the appearance of a person who had seen much suffering and hardship. She worked for Mr. Gtoddard a short time, when she obtained another place. She then left, but called very often ; and during her stay in Worcester, she worked there several times. So far as I was able to judge of her character, I do not hesitate to say that she was a woman of truth and honesty. I heard her relate the account of her life and sufferings in the Grey Nunnery, and her final escape. I knew when the story was written, and can testify to its being done according to her own dictation. I have examined the manuscript, and can say that it is written out truly and faithfully as related by the nun herself. Edawrd p. Hood. Worcester, May 5, 1856. ( TESTIMONY OF EZBA OODDARD.) I first became acquainted with Sarah J. Bichardson in August TESTIMONIALS. 2U 1854. She camo to my house to work for my wife. She wa» at my house a great many times after that until March 1855, when she left Worcester. At one time she was there four or five weeks in suc- cession. She was industrious, willing to do anything to get an honest living. She was kind in her disposition, and honest in her dealings. I have no hesitation ia saying that I think her statements can bo relied upon. EzBA Goodabo. Worcester, Jan. 21, 1856. (TESTIMONT of LITCT OODDAXD.^ I am acquainted with the above named Sarah J. Ricbardson, and can fully testify to the truth of the above statements as to her kind- ness and indostriotts habits, honesty and truthfulness. LUOT GODDARO. Worcester, Jan. 21, 1856. (testimony or josiah ooddard.) To whom it may concern: This is to testify that I am acqnainted with Sarah J. Richardson, formerly Sarah J. Richards. I becamo acquainted with her in the fall of 1854. She worked at my father's at the time. I heard her tell her story, and from what I saw of her while she was in Worcester, I have no hesitation in saying that she was a woman of truth and honesty. Josiah Goddard. Worcester, March 1, 1856. (testimony of eben jbwett.) I became acquainted with Sarah J. Richardson last winter, at the house of Mr. Ezra Goddard ; saw her a number of times after that,at the place where I boarded. She did some work for my wife, and I heard her speak of being at the Grey Nunnery. I also heard her story, from Mr. Goddard's family. I have no doubt of her being honest and truthful, and I believe she is so considered by all who becamo acquainted with her. Eben Jbwett. Worcester, Feb — 1856. (testimony of CHARLES CHAFFIN.) Worcester, ss. — Holden, Nov. 11, 1854. This certifies that I this day united in marriage, Frederick S. Richardson and Sarah J. Richards, both of Worcester. Charles Chaffin, Justice of the Peace. I 111 '- \x I' ir .'-. ■\ ? 212 LIFE IN THE GREY NUNNERY. (affidavit.) I, Sarah J. Richardson, t^ife of Frederick S. Richardson, of the city of Worcester, County of Worcester, and Commonwealth of Massachusetts, formerly Sarah J. Richards before marriage, do sol- cmnly swear, declare and say, that the foregoing pages contain a true and faithful history of my life before my marriage to the said Frederick S. Richardson, and that every statement made herein by me is true. In witness whereof, I do hereunto set my hana and seal, this 13th day of March, A.D. 1855. her SaBAH J. H RiCHABDSOK. In presence of Wm. Greenleaf. mark. Sworn to before me, the 13th day of March, AD. 1855. Wm. Greexleaf, Justice of the Peace. (tbstimont of z. k. fanoborn.) When it was known that the Narrative of Sarah J. Richardson was about to be published, Mj*. Z. K. Fangbom, at that time editor of the Worcester Daily Transcript, voluntarily offered the following testimony which we copy from one of his editorials. " We have no doubt that the nun here spoken of as one who escaped from the Grey Nunnery at Montreal, is the same person who spent some weeks in our family in the fall of 1853, after her first escape from the Nunnery. She came in search of employment to our house in St. Albans, Vt., stating that she had traveled on foot from Montreal, and her appearance indicated that she was poor, and had seen hardship. She obtained work at sewing, her health not being suffic')3nt for more arduous task. She appeared to be suffering under some severe mental trial, and though industrious and lady-like in her deportment, still appeared absent minded, and occasionally singular in her manner. After awhile she revealed the fact to the lady of the house, that she had escaped from the Grey Nunnery at Montreal, but begged her not to inform any one of the fact, as she feared, if it should be known, that she would be reta- ken, and carried back. A few days after making this disclosui'e, she suddenly disappeared. Having gone out one evening, and fail- ing to return, much inquiry was made, but no trace of her was obtained for some months. Last spring a gentleman from Worces- ter, Mass. called on us to make inquiries in regard to this same per- son and gave us the following account of her as given by herself. TESTIMONIALS. 213 She states that on the eyening when she so mysterionsly disappeared from our house, she called upon an Irish family whose acquaintance she had formed, and when she was coming away, was suddenly seized, gagged, and thrust into a close carriage, or box, as she thought, and on the evening of the next day found herself once more consigned to the tender mercies of the Grey Nunnery in Mon- treal. Her capture was effected by a priest who tracked her to St. Albans, and watched his opportunity to seize her. She was sub- jected to the most rigorous and cruel treatment, to punish her for running away, and kept in close confinement till she feigned peni- tence and submission, when she was treated less cruelly, and allowed more liberty. "But the difficulties in the way of an escape, only stimulated her the more to make the attempt, and she finally succeeded a second time in getting out of that place which she described as a den of cruelty and misery. She was successful also in eluding her pursu- ers, and in reaching this city, (Worcester,) where she remained some time, seeking to avoid notoriety, as she feared she might be again betrayed and captured. She is now, however, in a position where she does not fear the priests, and proposes to give t the world a history of her life in the Nunnery. The disclosures she makes are of the most startling character, but of her veracity and good char- acter we have the most satisfactory evidence." This statement was confirmed by Mrs. Fangbom, a sister of the late Mrs Branard, the lady with whom Sarah J. Bichardson stop- ped in St. Albans, and by whom she was employed as a seamstress. Being an inmate of the family at the time, Mrs Fangbom states that she had every opportunity to become acquainted with the girl and learn her true character. The family, she says, were all inter- ested in her, although they knew nothing of her secret, until a few days before she left. She speaks of her as being " quiet and thoughtful, diligent, faithful and anxious to please, but manifesting an eager desire for learning, that she might be able to acquaint her- self more perfectly with the Holy Scriptures. She could, at that time, read a little, and her mind was well stored with select passa- ges from the sacred volume, which she seemed to take great delight in repeating. She was able to converse intelligently upon almost any subject, and never seemed at a loss for language to express her thoughts. No one could doubt that nature had given her a mind FT^ 214 LIFE IN THE GRET NUNNERT. capable of a high degree of religioas and intellectnal culture, and that, with the opportunity for improvement, she would become a useful member of society. Of book knowledge she was certainly quite ignorant, but she had evidently studied human nature to some good purpose." Mrs Fangbom also corroborates many of the state- ments in her narrative. She often visited the Grey Nunnery, and says that the description given of the building, the Academy^^ the Orphans' home, and young ladies school, are all correct. The young Smalley mentioned in the narrative was well known to her, and also his sister "little Sissy Smalley," as they used to call her. Inquiries have been made of those acquainted with the route along which the fugitive passed in her hasty flight, and we are told that the description is in general correct; that even the mistakes serve to prove the truthfulness of the narrator, being such as a per- son would be likely to make when describing from memory scenes and places they had seen but once ; whereas, if they were getting up a fiction which they designed to represent as truth, such nustakes would be carefully avoided. i ,1 lal cnltore, and ould become a 9 was certainly nature to some ny of the state- y Nunnery, and } Academy,^ the correct. The 1 known to her, sed to call her. I the route along ire are told that in the mistakes g such as a per- L memory scenes ' were getting up [i,such nustakes APPENDIX, APPENDIX. APPENDIX I. ABSURDITIES OF ROMANISTS. It may perchance be thought by some persons that the foregoing narrative contains many things too absurd and childish for belief. « What rational man," it may be said, " would ever think of dressing up a figure to repre- sent the devil, for the purpose of frightening young girls into obedience ? And those absurd threats ! Surely no sane man, and certainly no Christian teacher, would ever stoop to such senseless mummery 1" Incredible it may seem — foolish, false, inconsistent with reason, or the plain dictates of common sense, it certainly is — but we have before us well-authenticated accounts of transactions in which the Komish priests claimed powers quite as extraordinary, and palmed ofif upon a credulous, superstitious people stories quite as silly and ridiculous as anything recorded in these pages. Indeed, so barefaced and shameless were their preten- sions in bome instances, that even their better-informed brethren were ashamed of their folly, and their own arch- bisbop publicly rebuked their dishonesty, cupidity and chicanery. In proof of this we place before our r<)aders the following facts which we find in a letter from Profes- 19 ifi I ■i fr'^-^ 1' ■ I ■■. 1 :( 5 IK iii \ :i' 218 APPENDIX. 8or Similien, of the college of Angers, addressed to the Union de I'Ouest : " Some years ago a pretended miracle was reported as having occurred upon a mountain called La Salette, in the southeastern part of France, where the Virgin Mary appeared in a very miraculous manner to two young shep- herds. The story, however, was soon proved to be a despicable trick of the priest, and as such was publicly exposed. But the Bishop of Lucon, within whose diocese the sacred mountain stands, appears to have been unwil- ling to relinquish the advantage which he expected to result from a wide-spread belief in this infamous fable. Accordingly, in July, 1852, it was again reported that no less than three miracles were wrought there by the Holy Virgin. The details were as follows : " A young pupil at the religious establishment of the visitation of Valence, who had been for three months completely blind from an attack of gutta-serena, arrived at La Salette on the first of July, in company with some sisters of the community. The extreme fatigue which she had undergone in order to reach the summit of the moun- tain, at the place of the apparition, caused some anxiety to be felt that she could not remain fasting until the con- clusion of the mass, which had not yet commenced, and the Abbe Sibilla, one of the missionaries of La Salette, was requested to administer the sacrament to her before the service began. She had scarcely received the sa- cred wafer, when, impelled by a sudden inspiration, she raised her head and exclaimed, * ma bonne mere, je vjm vois* She had, in fact, her eyes fixed on the statue of the Virgin, which she saw as clearly as any one present. For mor'' than an hour she remained plunged in an ecs- tasy of gratitude and love, and afterward retired from APPENDIX. 210 ddressed to the ivas reported as I La Salette,in l,e Virgin Mary two young shep- proved 'to be a uch was publicly hin whose diocese have been unwil- h he expected to is infaraoua fable, a reported that no there by the Holy Btablishment of the i for three months ta-serena, arrived at company with some le fatigue which she immit of the moun- aused some anxiety pasting until the con- ret commenced, and iries of La Salette, ,ment to her before ;ly received the sa- Iden inspiration, she home mere, je v^«^ ed on the statue of as any one present. , plunged in an ets- terward retired from the place widiout requiring the assistance of those who accompanied her. At the same moment a woman from Gap, nearly sixty years of age, who for the last nineteen years had not had the use of her right arm, in consequence of a dislocation, suddenly felt it restored to its original state, and swinging round the once paralyzed limb, she exclaimed, in a transport of joy and gratitude, * And I also am cured ! ' A third cure, although not instantane- ous, is not the less striking. Another woman, known in the country for years as being paralytic, could not ascend the mountain but with the greatest difficulty, and with the aid of crutches. On the first day of the neuvane, that of her .arrival, she felt a sensation ad if life was coming irto her legs, which had been for so long time dead. This feeling went on increasing, and the last day of the neu- vane, after having received the communion, she went, without any assistance, to the cross of the assumption, where she hung up her crutches. She also was cured. *' Bishop LucoQ must have known that this was mere imposition ; yet, so far from exposing a fraud so base, he not only permits his people to believe it, but he lends his whole influence to support and circulate the falsehood. And why ? Ah I a church was to be erected ; and it was necessary to get up a little enthusiasm among the people in order to induce them to fill his exhausted cofiers, and build the church. In proof of this, we have only to quote a few extracts from the * Pastoral * which he issued on this occasion. " * And now," he says, " Mary has deigned to appear on the summit of a lofty mountain to two young shepherds, revealing to them the secrets of heaven. But who attests the truth of the narrative of these Alpine pastors ? No other than the men themselves, and they are believed. 1 virrtT 220 APPENDIX. ■'' i m They declare what they have seen, they repeat xrhat they have heard, they retain what they have received command- ment to keep secret. " A few words of the incomparable Mother of God have transformed them into new men. Incapable of concerting aught between themselves, or of imagining anything sim- ilar to what they relate, each is the witness to a vision which has not found him unbelieving; each is its historian. These two shepherds, dull as they were, have at once understood and received the lesson which was vouchsafed to them, and it is inefiaceably engraven on their hearts. They add nothing to it, they take nothing from it, they modify it in nowise, they' deliver the oracle of Heaven just as they have received it. " An admirable constancy enabled them to guard the secret, a singular sagacity made them discern all the snares laid for them, a rare prudence suggested to them a thou- sand responses, not one of whic^ betrayed their secret ; and when at length the time came when it was their duty to make it known to the common Father of the Faithful, they wrote correctly, as if reading a book placed under their eyes. Their recital drew to this blessed mountain thousands of pilgrims. ^They proclaimed that 'on Saturday, the 19th of Sep- tember, 1840, Mary manifiested herself to them ; and the anniversary of this glorious day is henceforth and forever dear to Christian piety. Will not every pilgrim who repairs to this holy mountain add his testimony to the truthful uess of these young shepherds ? Mary halted near a fountain ; she communicated to it a celestial virtue, a divine efficacy. From being intermittent, this spring, to- day so celebrated, became perenniaL « ' Every where is recounted the prodigies which she APPENDIX. 221 jat "what they ed command- p of God have . of concerting anything sim- SS3 to a vision is its historian, have at once (fas vouchsafed a their hearts. 5 from it, they of Heaven just a to guard the im all the snares o them a thou- Bd their secret; was their duty [of the Faithful, k placed under [essed mountain ae 19th of Sep- them; and the [brth and forever Iry pilgrim viho [testimony to the Mary halted near pelestial virtue, a this spring, to- Ugies which she works. When the afflicted are in despair, the infirm with- out remedy, they resort to the waters of La Salette, and cures are wrought by this remedy, whose power makes itself felt against every evil. Our diocess, so devoted to Mary, has been no stranger to the bounty of this tender Mother. We are about to celebrate shortly the sixth anniversary of this miraculous apparition. Ji^ow that a sanctuary is to he raised on this holy mountain to the glory of God, we have thought it right to inform you thereof. « < We cannot doubt that many of you have been heard by our Lady of La Salette ; you desire to witness your gratitude to this mother of compassioii ; you would gladly bring your stone to the beautiful edifice that is to be con- structed. We desire to further your Jtlicd tenderness with the means of transmitting the alms of faith and piety. For these reasons, invoking tlie holy name of God, we have ordained and do ordain 'is follows, viz.: " * First, we permit the appearance of our Lady of La Salette to be preached throughout our diocess ; secondly, on Sunday, the 19th of September next ensuing, the lita- nies of the Holy Virgin shall be chanted in all the chapels and churches of the diocess, and be followed by the bene- diction of the Holy Sacrament. Thirdly, thefaiffful who may desire to contribute to the erection of the new sanctuary, may deposit their offerings in the hands of the cure, who will transmit them to us for the Bishop of Grenoble. "< Our present pastoral letter shall be read and published after mass in 6ver/ parish on the Sunday after its recep- tion. " ' Given at Lucon, in our Episcopal palace, under our sign-manual and the seal of our arms, and the official 19* 222 APPENDIX. '' . I counter-signature of our secretary, the 30th of June, of the year of Grace, 1852. «*X Jac-Mar Jos, . ' «* Bishop of Lucon.'" " It is not a little remarkable," says the editor of vtbe American Christian Union, " that whilst the Bishop of Lucon was engaged in extolling the miracles of La Salette, the Cardinal Archbishop of Lyons, Dr. Bonald, ' Primate of all the Gauls,' addressed a circular to all the priests in his diocess, in which he cautions them against apocryphal miracles I There is indubitable evidence that his grace refers to the scandalous delusions of La Salette. His lan- guage is severe, very severe. He attributes the miracles in question to pecuniary speculation^ which now-a-days, he says, mingles with everything, seizes upon imaginary facts, and profits by it at the expense of the credulous I He charges the authors of these things with bemg greedy MEN, who aim at procuring for themselves dishonest GAINS by this traffic in superstitious objects I And he forbids the publishing from the pulpit, without leave, of any account of a miracle, even though its authenticity shouM be attested by another Bishop 1 This is good. His grace deserves credit for setting his face against this mis- erable business of palming off false miracles upon the people." * ^ Since the above was written, we have mot with the following explanation of this modem miracle : "A few years ago there was a great stir among ^ the simple faith* ful ' in France, occasioned by a well-credited a oparition of the Holy Virgin at La Salette. She required the erection of a chapel in her honor at that place, and made such promises of special indulgences to all who paid their devotions there, that it became ' all the rage ' APPENDIX. 223 Another of Rome's marvellous stories we copy from the New York Daily Times of July 3d, 1854. It is from the pen of a correspondent at Rome, who, after giving an account of the ceremony performed in the church of St. Peters at the canonization of a new saint, under the name of Germana, relates the following particulars of her his- tory. He says, " I take the facts as they are related in a pamphlet account of her * life, virtues, and miracles/ published by authority at Rome : " Germana Consin was bom near the village of Pibrac, in the diocess of Toulouse, in France. Maimed in one hand, and of a scrofulous constitution, she excited the hatred of her step-mother, in whose power her father's second marriage placed her while yet a child. This cruel woman gave the little Germana no other bed than some vine twigs, lying under a flight of stairs, which galled her limbs, wearied with the day's labor. She also persuaded her husband to send the little gurl to tend sheep in the as a place of pilgrimage. The consequence was, that other shops for the same sort of wares in that region lost most of their custom- ers, and the good priests who tended the tills were sorely impover- ished. In self-defence, they, well knowing how sttch things were got up, exposed the trick. A prelate publicly denounced the imposture, and an Abbe Deleon, priest in the diocess of Grenoble, printed a work called ' La Salette a Valley of Lies.' In this publication it was maintained, with proofs, that the hoax was gotten up by a Mademoi- selle de Lamerliere, a sort of half-crazy nun, who impersonated the character of the Virgin. For the injury done to her character by thil f i f M ; ill' B '1 111 1 but in our country districts, where the people believe in ghosts and bugbears, it would almost certainly produce the desired effect. This expedient, instead of being ridicu- lous, was atrocious. The etnployment of it could not fail to cause Mrs V to suffer the most painful agonies, and her neighbors the torments of doubt. The credulity of the French-Canadian is the work of ithe clergy; they invent and relate, in order to excite their piety, the most marvellous things. For example : the priests say that souls in purgatory desiring alleviation (ome and ask masses of their relatives, either by appear- ing in the same form they had in life, or by displacing the furniture and making a noise, as long as they have not terminated the expiation of their sins. The Catholic clergy, by supporting these fabulous doctrines and pious lies, lead their flock into the baleful habit of believing things the most absurd and destitute of proof. The day after Miss V 's funeral, everybody in the parish was talking of the woeful cries which had been heard the night before near her grave. The inhabitants of the place, imbued with fantastic ideas that their rector had kept alive, were dupes of the artifice employed by some of their own number. They became convinced that there is no safety outside of the church, of which they formed a part. Seized with horror they determined never to pass a night near the grave of the cursed oncy as they already called the young Protestant. Mrs. V by the instinctive effect of prejudices inculcated when she was a Catholic, was at first a prey to deadly anxiety; but recall- ing the holy life of her daughter, she no longer doubted of her being among the number of the elect. She guessed at the cause of the noise which was heard near the grave of her child. In order to assure herself of the vm APPENDIX. 236 justness of her suspicions, she besought the two neighbors of whom I have already spoken, to conceal themsclvca there the following night. These persons were glad of an occasion to test the accuracy of what a curate of their acquaintance had told them; who had asserted that a spirit free from the body could yet manifest itself substan- tially to the living, as speaking without tongue, touching without hands. They discovered the man who was paid to play the ghost ; they seized him, and in order to punish him, tied him to a tree, at the foot of which Miss V was buried. The poor creature the next morning no longer acted the soul in torment, but shouted like a person who very much wanted his breakfast. At noon one of his friends passed by, who, hearing him implore assistance, approached and set him free. Overwhelmed with questions and derision, the false ghost confessed he had acted thus only to obtain the reward which had been promised him. You may easily guess that the ridicule and reprobation turned upon those who had made him their instrumeni I will not finish this narrative without telling the reader that the curate of the place appeared much incensed at what his parishioners had done. I am glad to be able to suppose that he condemns rather than encourages such conduct. A Protestant friend of mine who does not enter- tain the same respect for the Boman clergy that I do, advances the opinion that the displeasure of the curate was not on account of the culpable attempt of some of his flock but on account of its failure. However, I must add, on my reputation as a faithful narrator, that nothing has yet happened to confirm his assertion. * Ebaste D'Orsonnens. Montreal, September 1855. APPENDIX II. OBUELTT OF ROMANISTS. ri^ To show that the Romish priests hare in all ages, and do still, inflict upon their victims cruelties quite as severe as anything described in the foregoing pages, and that such cruelties are sanctioned by their code of laws, we have only to turn to the authentic histcfky of the past and present transactions of the high functionaries of Rome. About the year 1356, Nicholas Eymeric, inquisitor-gen- eral of Arragon, collected from the civil and canon laws all that related to the punishment of heretics, and formed the " Directory of Inquisitors," the first and indeed the fundamental code, which has been followed ever since, without any essential variation. " It exhibits the practice and theory of the Inquisition at the time of its sanction by the approbation of Gregory 13th, in 1587, which theory, under some necessary variations of practice, still rem^uns unchanged." From this " Directory,** transcribed by the Rev. Wm. Rule of London, in 1852, we extract a few sentences in relation to torture. '' Torture is inflicted on one who confesses the principal fact, but varies as to circumstances. Also on one who is reputed to be a heretic, but against whom there is only one witness of the fact. In this case common rumor is one indication of guilt, and the direct evidence is another, making altogether but semi-plenar proof. The torture ^ f ji'ii IPPENDIX. 237 may bring out full proof. Also, when there is no witness, but vehement suspicion. Also when there is no common report of heresy, but only one witness who has heard or seen something in him contrary to the faith. Any two indications of heresy will justify the use of torture. If you sentence to torture, give him a written notice in the form prescribed ; but let other means be tried first. Nor is this an infallible means for bringing out the truth. Weak-hearted men, impatient at the first pain, will con- fess crimes they never committed, and criminate others at the same time. Bold and strong ones will bear the most severe torments. Those who have been on the rack before bear it with more courage, for they know how to adapt their limbs to it, and they resist powerfully. Others, by enchantments, seem to be insensible, and would rather die than confess. These wretches use^for incantations, certain passages from the Psalms of David, or other parts of Scripture, which they write on virgin parchment in an extravagant way, mixing them with names of unknown angels, with circles and strange letters, which they wear .upon their person. * I know not,' says Fena, * how this witchcraft can be remedied, but it will be well to strip the criminals naked, and search them narrowly, before laying them upon the rack.* While the tormentor is getting ready, let the inquisitor and other grave men make fresh attempts to obtain a confession of the truth. Let the tor- mentors terrify htm hy all means, to frighten him into con- fession. And after he is stripped, let the inquisitor take him aside, and make a last efibrt. When this has failed, let him be put to the question by torture, beginning with interrogation on lesser points, and advancing to greater. J£ he stands out, let them show him other instruments of torture, and threaten that he shall suffer them also. If he will not confess, the torture may be continued on the sec- ! « 'i 238 APPENDIX. : j' ond or third day ; but as it is not to be repeated, those successive applications must be called continuation. And if, afler all, he does not confess, he may be set at lib- erty." Rules are laid down for the punishment of thode who do confess. Innocent IV. commanded the secular judges to put heretics to torture ; but that gave occasion to scan- dalous puolicity, and now inquisitors are empowered to do it, and, in case of irregularity (that t«, if the person dies in their hands)y to absolve each other. And although nobles were exempt from torture, and in some kingdoms, as Arrugon, it was not used in civil tribunals, the inquis- itors were nevertheless authorized to torture, without re- striction, persons of all classes. And here we digress from Eymeric and Pena, in order to describe, from additional authority, of what this torture consisted, and probably still consists, in Italy. Liraborch collects this information from Juan de Bojas, inquisitor at Valencia. ** There were five degrees of torment as some counted (Eymeric included), or according to others, three. First, there was terror, including the threatenings of the inquis- itor, leadmg to the place of torture, stripping, and bind- ing ; the stripping of their clothing, both men and women, with the substitution of a single tight garment, to cover part of the person — being an outrage of every feeling of decency — and the binding, often as distressing as the torture itself. Secondly came the stretching on the rack, and questions attendant. Thirdly a more severe shock, by the tension and sudden relaxation of the cord, which is sometimes given once, but often twice, thiice, or yet more frequently." *' Isaac Orobio, a Jewish physician, related to Lim- borch the manner in which he had himself been tortured. III;' V fl'-r'- APPENDIX. 239 when thrown into the inquisition at Seville, on the delation of a Moorish servant, whom he had punished for theft, and of another person similarly offended. " After having been in the prison of the ^r /uisition for full three years, examined a few times, hv constantly refusing to confess the things laid to his charge, he was at length brought out of the cell, and led through tortu- ous passages to the place of torment. It was near eve- ning. He found himself in a subterranean chamber, rather spacious, arched ove and b.^ng with black cloth. The whole conclave was lighted by candles . - sconces on the walls. At one end there was a se^^^jirite chamber, wherein were an inquisitor and ''is notary seate i at a table. The place, gloomy, silent, and everywhere terri- ble, seemed to be the very home of death. Hither he was brought, and the inquisitor again exhorted him to tell the truth before the torture should begin. On his answering that he had already told the truth, the inquisi- tor gravely protested that he was bringing himself to the torture by his own obstinacy ; and that if he should suffer loss of blood, or even expire, during the question, the holy office would be blameless. Having thus spoken, the inquisitor left him in ^he hands of the tormentors, who stripped him, and com^. '-r.^aed his body so tightly in a pair of linen drawers, that he could no longer draw breath, and must have died, had they not suddenly relaxed the pres- sure; but with recovered breathing came pain unutterably exquisite. The anguish being past, they repeated a mo- nition to confess the truth, before the torture, as they said, should begin ; and the same was afterwards repeated at each interval. ^ As Orobio persisted in denial, they bound his thumbs so tightly with small cords that the blood burst from under the nails, and they were swelled excessively. Then W I- * 1 1 240 APPENDIX. '' they made him stand against the wall on a small stool, passed cords around various parts of his body, but prin- cipally around the arms and legs, and carried them over iron pulleys in the ceiling. The tormentor then pulled the corda with all his strength, applying his feet^ to the wall, and giving the weight of his body to increase the purchase. With these ligatures his arms and legs, fingers and toes, were so wrung and swollen that he felt as if fire were devouring them. Li the midst of this torment the man kicked down the stool which had supported his feet, so that he hung upon the cords with his whole weight, which suddenly increased their tension, and gave inde- scribable aggravation to his pain. Next followed a new kind of torment. An instrument resembling a small lad- der, consisting of two parallel pieces of wood, and five transverse pieces, with the anterior edges sharpened, was placed before him, so that when the tormentor struck it heavily, he received the stroke five times multiplied on each shin bone, producing pain that was absolutely intol- erable, and under which he fainted. But no sooner was he revived than they inflicted a new torture. The tor- mentor tied other cords around his wrists, and having his own shoulders covered with leather, that they might not be chafed, passed round them the rope which was to draw the cords, set his feet against the wall, threw himself back with all his force, and the cords cut through to the bones. This he did thrice, each time changing the position of the cords, leaving a small distance betwe^i the successive wounds ; but it happened that in pulling the second tune they slipped into the first wounds, and caused such a gush of blood that Orobio seemed to be bleeding to death. '^ A physician and surgeon, who were in waiting as usual, to give their opinion as to the safety or danger of continuing those operations, that the inquisitors might not APPENDIX. 241 J small stool, )dy,but prin- jd them over p tben pulled is feet' to the ) increase the ttd legs, fingers he felt as if ,f this torment supported his is vfhole weight, ind gave inde- bllowed a new ing a small lad- wood, and five sharpened, was jentor struck it s multiplied on labsolately intol- no sooner was ;ure. The tor- and having his they might not lich was to draw !W himself back igh to the bones. le position of the the successive the second time ised such a gush ig to death. in wcdting as [fety or danger of lisitors might not commit an irregularity by murdering the patient, were called in. Being friends of the sufferer, they gave their opinion that he had strength enough remaining to bear more. By this means they saved him from a suspension of the torture, which would have been followed by a repetition, on his recovery, under the pretext of continua- tion. The cords were therefore pulled a third time, and this ended the torture. He was dressed in his own clothes, carried back to prison, and, after about seventy days, when the wounds were healed, condemned as one suspected of Judaism. They could not say convicted^ because he had not confessed ; but they sentenced him to wear the sam^ benito * or penitential habit for two years, and then be banished for life from Seville." *'This sambenito (Saco bendito or blessed sack,) is a garment (or kind of scapulary according to some writers,) worn by peni- tents of the least mminal class in the procession of an Auto de Fe, (a solemn ceremony held by the Inquisition for the punishment of heretics,) but sometimes worn as a punishment at odier times, that the condemned one might be marked by his neighbors, and ever bear a signal that would affright and scare by the greatness of the punishment and disgrace; a plan, salutary it may be, but very griev- ous to the offender. It was made of yellow cloth, with a St. An- drew's cross upon it, of red. A rope was sometimes put around the neck as an additional mark of infamy. Those who were condemned to be burnt were distinguished by a habit of the same form, called Zamarra, but instead of the red cross were painted flames and devils, and sometimes an ugly portrait of the heretic himself, — a head, with flames under it. Those who had been sentenced to the stake, but indulged with commutation of the penalty, had inverted flames painted on the livery, and this was called /ue^o revueho, "inverted fire." Upon the head of the condemned was also placed a conical paper cap, about three feet high, slightly resembling a mitre, called corona or crown. This was painted with flames and devils in like manner with the dress. 21 ipH^ ! "t ' I' I! I, APPENDIX III. . , INQUISITION OF QOA — IMPRISONMENT OF M. DBLLON, 1673. " M. Dellon a French traveller, spending some time at Damaun, on the north-western coast of Hindostan, incur- red the jealousy of the governor and a black priest, in regard to a lady, as he is pleased to call her, whom they both admired. He had expressed himself rather freely concerning some of the grosser superstitions of Roman- ism, and thus afforded the priest, who was also secretary of the Inquisition, an occasion of proceeding against him as a heretic. The priest and the governor united in a representation to the chief inquisitor at Groa, which pro- cured an order for his ari'est. Like all other persons whom it pleased the inquisitors or their servants to arrest, in any part of the Portuguese dominions beyond the Cape of Good Hope, he was thrown into prison with a promis- cuous crowd of delinquents, the place and treatment being of the worst kind, even according to the colonial barbarism of the seventeenth century. To describe his sufferings there, is not to our purpose, inasmuch as all prisoners fared alike, many of them perishing ih>m starvation and disease. Many offenders against the Inquisition were there at the same time, — some accused of Judaism, others, of Paganism — in which sorcery and witchcraft were included — and others of immorality. In a field so wide and so fruitful, the ** scrutators " of the faith could not fail APPENDIX. 2Ui » some time at ndostan, incur- )lack priest, m. er, whom they f rather freely ons of Boman- I also secretary ing against him lor united in a which pro- other persons irvants to arrest, leyond the Cape with apromis- treatment heing lonial barbarism le his sufferings as all prisoners [from starvation Inquisition were Judaism, others, [witchcraft were . a field so wide lith could not fail to gather abundantly. After an incarceration of at least four months, he and his fellow-sufferers were shipped off for the ecclesiastical metropolis of India, all of them being in irons. The vessel put into Bacaim, and the prisoners were transferred, for some days, to the prison of that town, where a large number of persons were kept in custody, under charge of the commissary of the holy office, until a vessel should arrive to carry them to Goa. " In due time they were again at sea, and a fair wind wafted their fleet into that port after a voyage of seven days. Until the 7 could be deposited in the cells of the Inquisition with ihe accustomed formalities, the Arch- bishop of Goa ihreyf open his prison for their reception, which prison, being ecclesiastical, may be deemed worthy of description. „. " The most filthy," says Dellon, " the most dark, aiid ^^ the most horrible that I ever saw ; and I doubt whether a more shocking and horrible prison can be found anywhere. It is a kind of cave wherein there is no day seen but by a very little hole ; the most subtle rays of the sun cannot enter into it, and there is never any trtte light in it. The stench is extreme. ****** ** On the IGth of January 1674, at eight o'clock in the morning, an officer came with orders to take the prisoners to "the holy house." With considerable difficulty M. Dellon dragged his iron-loaded limbs thither. They helped him to ascend the stairs at the great entrance, and in the hall, smiths were waiting to take off the irons from all the prisoners. One by one, they were summoned to audience. Dellon, who was called the first, crossed the hall, passed through an ante-chamber, and entered a room, called by the Portuguese " board of the holy office," where the grand inquisitor of the Indies eat at one end of a very 244 APPENDIX. :»'■ ■■-' f large table, on an elevated floor in the middle of the cham* ber. He was a secular priest about ^orty years of age^ in full vigor — a man who could do his work with energy. At one end of the room was a large crucifix, reaching from the floor almost to the ceiling, and near it^ sat a notary on a foldinor stool. At the opposite end, and near the inquisitor, Deilon was placed, and, hoping to soften his judge, fell on his knees before him. But the aquisi- tor commanded him to rise, asked whether he knew the reason of his arrest, and advised him to declare it at large, as that was the only way to obtain a speedy release. Deilon caught at the hope of release, began to tell his tale, mixed with tears and protestations, again fell at the feet of Don F.'ancisco Delgado Emaios, the inquisitor, and implored his favorable attention. Don Frencisco told him, very coolly, that he had other business on hand, and, nothing moved, rang a silver bell. The alcayde entered, led the prisoner out into a gallery, opened, and searched his trunk, stripped him of every valuable, wrote an inven- tory, assured him that all should be safely kept, and then led him to a cell about ten feet square, and left him there, shut up in utter solitude. In the evening they brought him his first meal, which he ate heartily, and slept a little during the night following. Next morning he learnt that he could have no part of his property, not even a breviary was, in that place, allowed to a priest, for they had no form of religion there, and for that reason he could not have a book. His hair was cropped close ; and therefore " he did not need a comb." " Thus began his acquaintance with the holy house, which he describes as "great and magnificent," on one side of the great space before the church ol St Catharine. There were three gates in front ; and it was by the cen- APPENDIX. 215 tral, or largest, that the prisoners entered, and mounted a stately flight of steps, leading into the great hall. The side gates provided entrance to spacious ranges of apart- ments, belonging to the inquisitors. Behind the principal building, was another, very spacious, two stories high, and consisting of double rows of cells, opening into galleries that ran from end to end. The cells on the ground-floor were very small, without any aperture from without for light or air. Those of the upper story were vauued, white-washed, had a small strongly grated window, with- out glass, ana higher than the tallest man could reach. Towards the gallery every cell was shut with two doors, one on the inside, the other one outside of the wall. The inner door folded, was grated at the bottom, opened tow- ards the top for the admission of food and was made fast with very strong bolts. The outer door was not so thick, had no window, but was left open f-'om six o'clock every morning until eleven — a necessary arrangement in that climate. Unless it were intended to destroy life by suffoca- tion. " To each prisoner was given an earthen pot with water wherewith to wash, another full of water to drink, with a cup ; a broom, a mat whereon to lie, and a large basin with a cover, changed every fourth day. The prisoners had three meals a day ; and their health so far as food could contribute to it in such a place, was cared for in the provision of a wholesome, but spare diet. Physicians were at hand to render all necessary assistance to the sick^ as were confessors, ready to wait upon the dying ; but they gave no viaticum, performed no unction, said no mass. The place was under an impenetrable interdict. If any died, and that many did die b beyond question, his death was unknown to all without ; he was buried within 21* .. f-, !:^ . Lin ,t>l ■I i il , ~. ^ ii-i ' 1 *'M4i m I 246 APPENDIX. the walls without any f acred oeremopy; and if, after death, he was found to have died in heresy, his hones were taken up at the n<:xt Auto, to be 5i\rned. Unless there happened to be nxi unifouus jiuda! f ^ of prisonere, each one \vtis alone in his r>wn cell. He might not^ speak, nor groan, nor sob aloud, nor sigh. * His breathing might be audible when the guard listened at t^e grating, but nothing more. Four guards were stauoned in each long gallery, open, indeed, at each one! bat tiwfuUy silent, as if iit were the passage of iv cati*?jmb. If, however, he wanted anything, he might tap at the inner door, when a jailer would come to hear the request, and would report to the alcayde, but was not permitted to answer. If one of the victims, in despair, or pain, or delirium, attempted to pronounce a prayer, even to God, or dared to utter a cry, the jailers would run to the cell, rush in, and beat him cruelly, for terror to the rest. Once in two months the inquisitor, with a secretary and an interpreter, visited the prisons, and asked each prisoner if he wanted anything, if his meat was regularly brought, and if he had any complaint against the jailers. His want after all lay at the mercy of the merciless. His complaint, if uttered, would bring down vengeance, rather than gain redress. But m this visitation the holy office professed mercy with much formality, and the inquisitorial secretary collected ^I'Limborch relates that on one occasion, a poor prisoner was heard to cough ; the jailer of the Inquisition instantly repaired to him, and warned him to forbear, as the slightest noise was not tole- rated in that, house. The poor man replied that it was not in his power iQ forbear ; a second time they admonished him to desist ; and when again, unable to dp otherwise, he repeated the offence, they stripped him naked, and cruelly beat him,. This increased his cough, for which they beat him so often, that at last hd f^ied though pain and anguish of the stripes he had received. APPENDIX. 247 and if, after sy,hi8 bones ned. Unless of priaonere, ght not^speak, euthing migbt e grating, but i in each long lly silent, as if f, however, he r door, when a would report to ver. If one of n, attempted to d to utter a cry, I, and beat him wo months the reter, visited the anted anything, if he had any after all lay at laint, if uttered, tsi gain redress. 3sed mercy with cretary collected poor prisoner was astantly repaired to noise was not tole- iat it was not in his Jied him to desist ; [peated the offence, 1 This increased his lastbe^iedt^?^'*^^ notes which aided in the crimination, or in the murder of their victims. "The oflScers of Groa were, — the tnquistdor mor or grand inquisitor, who was always a secular priest ; the second inquisitor, Dominican friar ; several deputies, who came, when called for, to assist the inquisitors at trials, but never entered without such a summons ; qualifiers, as usual, to examine books and writings, but never to witness an examination of the living, or be present at any act of the kind ; a fiscal ; a procurator ; advocates, so called, for the accused; notaries and familiars. The authority of this tribunal was absolute in Groa. There does not appear to have been anything peculiar in the manner of exam- ining and torturing at Goa where the practice coincided with that of Portugal and Spain. " The personal narrative of Dellon affords a distinct exemplification of the sufferings of the prisoners. He had been told that, when he desired an audience, he had only to call a jailer, and ask it, when it would be allowed him. But, notwithstanding many tears and entreaties, he could not obtain one until fifteen days had passed away. Then came the alcayde and one of his guards. This alcayde walked first out of the cell ; Dellon uncovered and shorn, and with legs and feet bare, followed him ; the guard walked behind. The alcayde just entered the place of audience, made a profound reverence, stepped back and allowed his charge to enter. The door closed, and Del- lon remained alone with the inquisitor and secretary. He knelt ; but Don Fernando sternly bade him to sit on a bench, placed there for the use of the culprits. Near him, on a table, lay a missal, on which they made him lay his hand, and swear to keep secrecy, and tell them the truth. They asked if he knew the cause of his impris- I I 248 APPENDIX. onment, and whether he was resolved to confess it. He told them all he could recollect of unguarded sayings at Damaun, either in argument or conversation, without ever, that he knew, contradicting, directly or indirectly, any article of faith. He had, at some time dropped ain offen- sive word concerning the Inquisition, but so light a word, tliat it did not occur to his remembrance. Don Fernando told him he had done well in accusing AtWe(^ so willingly, and exhorted him in the name of Jesus Christ, to com- plete his self accusation fully, to the end that he might experience the goodness and mercy which were used in that tribunal towards those who showed true repentance by a sincere and unforced confession. The secretary read aloud the confession and exhortation, Dellon signed it, Don Fernando rang a silver bell, the alcayde wallted in, and, in a few moments, the disappointed victim was again in his dungeon. " At the end of another fortnight, and without having asked for it, he was again taken to audience. After a repetition of the former questions, he was asked his name, surname, baptism, confirmation, place of abode, in what parioh? in what diocess? under what bishop? They made him kneel, and make the sign of the cross, repeat the Pater Noster, Hail Mary, creed, commandments of God, commandments of the church, and Salve Begina. He did it all very cleverly, and even to their satisfaction ; but the grand inquisitor exhorted him, by the tender mer- cies of our Lord Jesus Christ, to confess without delay, and sent him to the cell again. His heart sickened. They required him to do what was impossible <— to con- fess more, after he had acknowledged alL In despair, he tried to starve himself to death ; ' but they compelled him to take food.' Day and night he wept, and at length be- APPENDIX. 249 took himself to prayer, imploring pity of the 'blessed Virgin,' whom he imagined to be, of all beings, the most merciful, and the most ready to give him help. "At the end of a month, he succeeded in obtaining another audience, and added to his former confessions Mrhat he had remembered, for the first time, touching the Inquisition. But they told lum that that was not what they wanted, and sent him back again. This was intole- rable. In a frenzy of despair he determined to commit suicide, if possible. Feigning sickness, he obtained a physician who treated him for a fever, and ordered him to be bled. Never calmed by any treatment of the physi- cian, blood-letting was repeated often, and each time he untied the bandage, when left alone, hoping to die from loss of blood, but death fled from him. A humane Fran- dscan came to confess him, and, hearing his tale of mis- ery, gave him kind words, asked permission to divulge his attempt at self-destruction to the inquisitor, procured him a mitigation of solitude by the presence of a fellow-pris- oner, a negro, accused of magic ; but, after five months, the negro was removed, and his mind, broken with suffer- ing, could no longer bear up under the aggravated load. By an effort of desperate ingenuity he almost succeeded in committing suicide, and a jailer found him weltering in his blood and insensible. Having restored him by cor- dials, and bound up his wounds, they carried him into the presence of the inquisitor once more ; where he lay on the floor, being unable to sit, heard bitter reproaches, had his limbs confined in irons, and was thus carried back to a punishment that seemed more terrible than death. In fetters he became so furious, that they found it necessary to take them off, and, from that time, his examinations assumed another character, m he defended his positions A. ! ^ 2r)0 AT'I'KNniX. '^ mi '■ with citations from the Council of Trent, and with dome passages of scripture, which he explained in the most Romish sense, discovering a depth of ignorance in Don Fernando that was truly surprising. That * grand Inquis- itor,' had never heard the passage which Dellon quoted to prove the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, * Except a man be bom of water and of the Spirit, ho cannot enter into the kingdom of Grod.' Neither did he know anything of that famous passage in the twenty>flflh session of the Council of Trent, which deck.res that images are only to be reverenced on account of the persons whom they represent. He called for a Bible, and for the acts of the council, and was evidently surprised when he found them where Dellon told him they might be seen. ^ The time for a general auto drew near. During the months of November and December, 1675, he heard every morning the cries of pernons under torture, and afterwards saw many of them, both men and women, lame and dis- torted by the rack. On Sunday January 11th, 1676, he was surprised by the jailer refusing to receive his linen to be washed — Sunday being washing-day in the * holy house.' While perplexing himself to think what that could mean, the cathedral bells rang for vespers, and then, contrary to custom, rang again for matins. He could only account for that second novelty by supposing that an auto would be celebrated the next day. They brought him supper, which he refused ; and, contrary to their wont at all other times, they did not insist on his taking it, but carried it away. Assured that those were all portents of the horrible catastrophe, and reflecting on oflen-repeated threats in the audience chamber that he -should be burnt, he gave himself up to death, and, oyerwhelmed with sorrow, tcU asleep a little before midnight APPENDIX. 261 *' Scarcely had he fallen asleep when the alcajde and guards entered the cell, with great noise, bringing a lamp, for the first time since his imprisonment that they had allowed a lamp to shine there. The alcayde, laying down a suit of clothes, bade him put them on, and be ready to go out when he came again. At two o'clock in the morn- ing they returned, and he issued from the cell, clad in a black vest and trowsers, striped with white, and his feet bare. About two hundred prisoners, of whom he was one, were made to sit on the floor, along the sides of a spacious gallery, all in the same black livery, and just visible by the gleaming of a few lamps. A large com- pany of women were also ranged in a neighboring gallery in like manner. But they were all motionless, and no one knew his doom. Every eye was fixed, and each one seemed benumbed with mistsry. " A third company Dellon perceived in a room not far distant, but they were walking about, and some appeared to have long habits. Those were persons condemned to be delivered to the secular arm, and the long habits dis- tinguished confessors busily collecting confessions in order to commute that penalty for some other scarcely less dreadful. At four o'clock, servants of the house came, with guards, and gave bread and figs to those who would accept the refreshment. One '>f the guards gave Dellon some hope of life by advisiog him to take what was offered, which he had refused ^d do. * Take your bread,' said the man, * and if you cannot eat it now, put it in your pocket; you will be certainly hungry before you return.' This gave hope that he should not end the day at the stake, but come back to undergo penance. ^' A little before sunrise, the great bell of the cathedral tolled, and its sound soon aroused the city of Groa. The I / I 252 APPENDIX. people ran into the streets, lining the chief thoroughfares, and crowding every place whence a view could be had of the procession. Day broke, and Dellon saw the faces of his fellow-prisoners, most of whom were Indians. He could only distinguish, by their complexion, about twelve Europeans. Every countenance exhibited sheune, fear, grief, 01 an appalling blackness of apathy, cu if dire iuf- fering in the lightlese dungeons underneath had bereft them of intellect. The company soon began to move, but slowly, as one by one the alcayde led them towards the door of the great hall, where the grand inquisitor sat, and his secretary called the name of each as he came, and the name of a sponsor, who also presented himself from among a crowd of the bettermost inhabitants of 6oa, assembled there for that service. ' The general of the Portuguese ships in the Indies ' had the honor of placing himself be- side our Frenchman. As soon as the procession was formed, it marched off in the usual order. ** First, the Dominicans, honored with everlasting pre- cedence on all such occasions, led the way. Singing-boys also preceded, chanting a litany. The banner of the Inquisition was intrusted to their hands. After the ban- ner walked the penitents — a penitent and a sponsor, two and two. A cross bearer brought up the train, carrying a crucifix alofl, turned towards them, in token of pity ; and, on looking along the line, you might have seen another priest going before the penitents with a crucifix turned backwards, inviting their devotions. They to whom the Inquisition no longer afforded mercy, walked behind the penitents, and could only see an averted cruci- fix. These were condemned to be burnt alive at the stake I On this occasion there were but two of this class, but sometimes a large number were sentenced to this hor- ▲PPINDIZ. 263 thoroughfares, ' could be had i saw the faces Indians. II'J a, about twelve ed shune, fear, , at if dire tuf- had bereft them love, but slowly, rds the door of tor sat, and his ) came, and the iself from among Qo&i assembled the Portuguese cing himself be- procession was everlasting pre- Singing-boys 3 banner of the After the ban- d a sponsor, two e train, carrying a token of pity; night have seen its with a crucifix tions. They to d mercy, walked an averted cruci- mt alive at the two of this class, meed to this hor- rible death, and presented to the spectator a most pitiable spectacle. Many of them bore upon their persons the marks of starvation, torture, terror, and heart-rending grief. Some faces were bathed in tears, while others came forth with a smile of conquest on the countenance and words of triumphant faith bursting from the lips. These, however, were known as dogmatizers, and were generally gagged, the mouth being filled with a piece of wood kept in by a strong leather band fastened behind the head, and the arms tied together behind the back. Two armed familiars walked or rode beside each of these, and two ecclesiastics, or some other clerks or regulars, also attended. After the&e, the images of heretics who had escaped were carried aloft^ to be thrown into the fiames ; and porters came last, tugging under the weight of boxes containing the disinterred bodies on which the execution of the church had fallen, and which were also to be burnt. " Poor Dellon went barefoot, like the. rest, through the streets of Groa, rough with little flint stones scattered about, and sorely were his feet wounded during an hour's march up and down the principal streets. Weary, covered with shame and confusion, the long train of culprits entered the church of St. Francis, where preparation was made for the auto, the climate of India not permitting a celebration of that solemnity under the burning sky. They sat with their sponsors, in the galleries prepared, sambcnitoa, grey zamarras with painted fiames and devils, oorozas, tapers, and all the other paraphernalia of an auto, made up a woful spectacle. The inquisitor and other personages having taken their seats of state, the provincial of the Augustinians mounted the pulpit and delivered the ser- mon. Dellon preserved but one note of it The preacher 22 ; * 254 APPENDIX. ilyi 'B m^ :i iMf. ' 'i'M ih u compared the Inquisition to Noah's ark, which received all sorts of beasts vnldf but sent them out tame. The appear- ance of hundreds who had been inmates of that ark cer- tainly justified the figure. ** After the sermon, two readers went up, one after the other, into the same pulpit, and, between them, they read the processes and pronounced the sentences, the person standing before them, with the alcayde, and holding a lighted taper in his hand. Dcllon, in turn, heard the cause of his long sufiering. He had maintained the in- validity of baptismus Jktmmis, or desire to be baptised, when there is no one to administer the rite of baptism by water. He had said that images ought not to be adored, and that an ivory crucifix was a piece of ivory. He had spoken contemptuously of the Inquisition. And, above all, he had an ill intention. His punishment was to be confiscation of his property, banishment from India, and five years' service in the galleys in Portugal, with pen- ance, as the inquisitors might enjoin. As all the prisoners were excommunicate, the inquisitor, after the sentence had been pronounced, put on his alb and stole, walked into the middle of the church, and absolved them all at once. Dillon's sponsor, who would not even answer him before, when he spoke, now embraced him, called him brother, and gave him a pinch of snufT, in token of recon- ciliation. ** But there were two persons, a man and a woman, for whom the church had no more that they could do; and these, with four dead bodies, and the effigies of the dead, were taken to be burnt on the Campo Santo Lazaro, on the river side, the place appointed for that purpose, that the viceroy might see justice done on the heretics, as he sur- veyed the execution firom his palace-windows.** APPENDIX. 255 The remainder of Dellon's history adds, nothing to what we have already heard of the Inquisition. He was taken to Lisbon, and, after working in a gang of convicts for some time, was released on the intercession of some friends in France with the Portuguese government. With regard to his despair, and attempts to commit suicide, when in the holy house, we may observe that, as he states, sui- cide was very frequent there. The contrast of his discon- solate impatience with the resignation and constancy of Christian confessors in similar circumstances, is obvious. As a striking illustration of the difference between those who suffer without a consciousness of divine favor, and those who rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, we would refer the reader to that noble band of martyrs who suffered death at the stake, at the Auto held in Se- ville, on Sunday, September 24, 1559. At that time twenty-one were burnt, followed by one effigy, and eighteen penitents, who were released. " One of the former was Don Juan Gonzales, Presby- ter of Seville, an eminent preacher. With admirable constancy he refused to make any declaration, in spite of the severe torture, saying that he had not followed any erroneous opinions, but that he had drawn his faith from the holy Scripturej ; and for this faith he pleaded to his tormentors in the words of inspiration. He maintained that he was not a heretic, but a Christian, and absolutely refused to divulge anything that would bring his brethren into trouble. Two sisters of his were also brought out to this Auto, and dispfayed equal faith. They would confess Christ, they said, and suffer with their brother, whom they revered as a wibr; and holy man. They were all tied to stakes on the querradero, a piece of pavement, without the walls of the city, devoted to the single use of burning 256 APPENDIX. ! 1 human victims. Sometimes this quemadero * was a raised platform of stone, adorned with pillows or surrounded with statues, to distinguish and beautify the spot. Just as the fire was lit, the gag, which had hitherto silenced Don Juan, was removed, and as the flames burst from the fagots, he said to his sisters, ' Let us sing, Deus lau' dem meam ne tacueris* And they sang together, while burning, ' Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise ; for the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.' Thus they died in the faith of Christ, and of his holy gospel." * Llorente, the historian of the Spanish Inquisition, says, " So many persons were to be put to death by fire, the governor of Se- ville caused a permanent raised platform of masonry to be con> structed outside the city, which has lasted to our time (until the French revolution) retaining its name of Que.nadero, or burning- place, and at the four corners four large hollow statutes of limestone, within which they used to place the impenitent alive, that they might die by slow fires." APPENDIX IV. INQUISITION OP GOA, CONCLUDED. The Inquisition of Groa continued its Autos for & cen- tury after the affair of Dellon. In the summer of 1808, Dr. Claudius Buchanan visited that city, and had been unexpected!/ invited bj Joseph a Doloribus, second and most active inquisitor, to lodge with him during his visit. Not without some surprise, Dr. Buchanan found himself, heretic, schismatic, and rebel as he was, politely entertained by so dread a personage. Regarding his English visitor merely as a literary man, or professing to do so. Friar Joseph, himself well educated, seemed to enjoy his com- pany, and was unreservedly communicative on every sub- ject not pertaining to his own vocation. When that subject was first introdsjced by an apparently incidental question, he did not he Itate to return the desired infor- mation, telling Dr. Buehanan that the establishment was nearly as extensive as in former times. In the library of the chief inquisifr he saw a register containing the names of all the ofiicers, who still were numerous. On the second evening after his arrival, the doctor was Burpnscd to see his host come from his apartment, clothed in black robes from head to foot, instead of white, the usual color of his order (Augustinian). He said that he was going to sit on the ribunal of the holy office, and it transpired that, so far from his " august ofiice " not occupy- ing much of his time, he had to <^it there three or four days 258 APPENDIX. I 'Jf HM •li every week. After his return, in the evening, the doctor put Dellon's book into his hand, asking him if he had ever seen it. He had never seen it before, and, after reading aloud and slowly, ^'■Relation de V Inquisition de Goa" began to peruse it with eagerness. While Dr. Buchanan employed himself in writing, Friar Joseph devoured page after page ; but as the nar- rative proceeded, betrayed evident symptoms of uneasi- ness. He then turned to the middle, looked at the eid. skimmed over the table of contents, fixed on its principal passages, and at one place exclaimed, in his broad Italian accent, " Mendacium ! mendacium ! " The doctor re- quested him to mark the passages that were untrue, pro- posed to discuss them afterwards, and said he had other books on the subject. The mention of other books star- tled him ; he looked up anxiously at some books on the table, and then gave himself up to the perusal of Dellon's ^' Relation," until bedtime. Even then, he asked permis- sion to take it to his chamber. The doctor had fallen asleep under the roof of the inquisitor's convent, confident, under God, in the protec- tion at that time guaranteed to a British subject, his ser- vants sleeping in the gallery outside the chamber-door. About midnight, he was waked by loud shrieks and expressions of terror from some one in the gallery. In the first moment of surprise, he concluded it must be the alguazils of the holy office seizing his servants to carry them to the Inquisition. But, on going out, he saw the servants standing at the door, and the person who had caused the alarm, a boy of about fourteen, at a little dis- tance, surrounded by some of the priests, who had come out of their cells on hearing the noise. The boy said he had seen a spectre ; and it was a considerable time before APPENDIX. 259 the agitations of his body and voice subsided. Next morning at breakfast, the inquisitor apologized for tlie disturbance, and said the boy's alarm proceeded from a phantasma animi, — phantom of the imagination. It might have been bo. Phantoms might well haunt such a place. As to Dellon's book, the inquisitor acknowl- edged that the descriptions were just; but complained that he had misji dged the motives of the inquisitors, and written uncharitably of Holy Church. Their conversa- tion grew earnest, and the inquisitor was anxious to im- press his visitor with the idea that the Inquisition had undergone a change in some respects, and that its terrors were mitigated. At length Dr. Buchanan plainly re- quested to see the Inquisition, that he might judge for himself as to the humanity shown to the inmates, — accor- ding to the inquisitor, — and gave, as a reason why he should be satisfied, his interest in the affairs of India, on which he had written, and his purpose to write on them again, in which case he could scarcely be silent concerning the Inquisition. The countenance of his host fell; but, after some further observations, he reluctantly promised to comply. Next morning, after breakfast, Joseph a Doloribus went to dress for the holy office, and soon returned in his black robes. He said he would go half an hour before the usual time, for the purpose of shovving him the Inquisition. The doctor fancied he looked more severe than usual, and that his attendants were not as civil as before. But the truth was, that the midnight scene still haunted him. They had proceeded in their palanquins to the holy house, distant about a quarter of a mile from the convent, and the inquisitor said as they were ascending the steps of the great entrance, that he hoped the doctor would be satisfied with a transient vievr 260 APPENDIX. rti ,'t! 1 1 ( 'f 1 -I of the Inquisition, and would retire when he should desire him to do so. The doctor followed with tolerable confi- dence, towards the great hall aforementioned, where thej were met by several well-dressed persons, familiars, as it afterwards appeared, who bowed very low to the inquisi- tor, and looked with surprise at the stranger. Dr. Buchanan paced the hall slowly, and in thoughtful silence; the inquisitor thoughtful too, silent and embarrassed. A multitude of victims seemed to haunt the place, and the doctor could not refrain from breaking silence. " Would not the Holy Church wish, in her mercy, to have those souls back again, that she might allow them a little further probation ? " The inquisitor answered nothing, but beck- oned liim to go with him. to a door at one end of the hall. By that door he conducted him to some small rooms, anu thence, to the spacious apartments of the chief inquisitor. Having surveyed those, he brought him back again to the great hall, and seemed anxions that the troublesome visi- tor should depart ; but only the very words of Dr. B. can adequately describe the close of this extraordinary inter- view." " Now, father," said I, " lead me to the dungeons below: I want to see the captives." " No," said he, " that cannot be." I now began to suspect that it had been in the mind of the inquisitor, from the beginning, to show me only a certain part of the Inquisition, in the hope of satisfying my inquiries in a general way. I urged him with earnest- ness ; but he steadily resisted, and seemed offended, or, rather, agitated, by my importunity. I intimated to him plainly, that the only way to do justice to his own asser- tion and arguments regarding the present state of the Inquisition, was to show me the prisons and the captives. I should then describe only what I saw ; but now the APPENDIX. 261 should desire Dlerable confl- a, where they familiars, as it to the inquisi- itrang^r. I>r» jghtful silence; ibarrassed. A place, and the jnce. "Would ', to have those Q a little further thing, but beck- end of the hall, imall rooms, anu chief inquisitor. ;k again to the jublesome visi- isofDr. B. can [aordinary inter- iungeons below: he '* that cannot Len in the mind [show me only a Ipe of satisfying [im with earnest- ^ed offended, or, fitimated to him his own asser- Int state of the Ind the captives, r; but now the subject was left in awful obscurity. " Lead me down,** said I, ** to the inner building, and let me pass through the two hundred dungeons, ten feet square, described by your former captives. Let me count ihe number of your present captives, and converse with them. I want to see if there be any subjects of the British government, to whom we owe protection. I want to ask how long they have been thei'e, how long it is since they have seen the light of the sun, and whether they ever expect to see it again. Show me the chamber of torture, and declare what modes of execution or punishment are now practiced inside the walls of the Inquisition, in lieu of the public Auto de Fe. If, after all that has passed, father, you resist this reason- able request, I should be justified in believing that you are afraid of exposing the real state of the Inquisition in India," To these observations the inquisitor made no reply ; but seemed impatient that I should withdraw. "My good father," said I ; "I am about to take my leave of you, and to thank you for your hospitable attentions ; and I wish to preserve on my mind a favorable sentiment of your kindness and candor. You cannot, you say, show me the captives and the dungeons ; be pleased, then, merely to answer tliis question, tor I shall beiieve your word : how many prisoners are there now below in the cells of the Inquisition ? " He replied, " That is a ques- tion which I cannot answer." On his pronouncing these words, I retired hastily towards the door, and wished him farewell. We shook hands with rs much cordiality as we could, at the moment, assume ; and both of us, I believe, were sorry tliat our parting took place with a clouded countenance." After leaving the inquisitor. Dr. Buchanan, feeling as if 262 APPENDIX. I M IM he could not refrain from endeavoring to get another and perhaps a nearer view, returned to avail himself of the pretext afforded by a promise from the chief inquisitor, of a letter to one of the British iBsidents at Travancore, in answer to one which he had brought him from that offi« cer. The inquisitors he expected to find within, in the " board of the holy office." The door-keepers surveyed him doubtfully, but allowed him to pass. He entered the grep.t hail, went up directly to the lofty crucifix described by D<;llon, sat down on a foim, wrote some notes, ard then desired an attendant to carry in his name to the inqui^itoi. As he was walking across the hall, he saw a poor woman sitting by the wall. She clasped her hands, and looked at him imploringly. The sight chilled his spirits ; and as he was asking the attendants the cause of her apprehension, — for she was awaiting trial, — Joseph a Doloribus came, in answer to his message, and was about to complain of the intrusion, when he parried the complaint by asking for the letter from the chief inquisi- tor. He promised to send it after him, and conducted him to the door. As they passed the poor woman, the doctor pointed to her, and said with emphasis, " Behold, father, another victim of the Holy Inquisition." The other answered nothing ; they bowed, and separated without a word. When Dr. Buchanan published his *' Christian Re- searches in Asia," in the year 1812, the Inquisition still existed at Goa ; but the establishment of constitutional government in Portugal, put an end to it throughout the whole Portuguese dominions. APPENDIX V. INQUISITION AT BIACERATA, ITALY. NABBATIVE OF MB. BOWEB. HETH. MAO. THIBD VOL. k I never pretended 4hat it was for the sake of religion alone, that I left Italy. On the. contrary, I have often declared, that, had I never belonged to the Inquisition, I should have gone on, as most Roman Catholics do, without ever questioning the truth of the religion I was brought up in» or thinking of any other. But the unheard of cruelties of that hellish tribunal shocked me beyond all expression, and rendered me, — a give the least ground for any suspicions of that nature, and no longer able to bear the sight of the many barbarities practised almost daily within those walls, nor the reproaches of my conscience for being accessary to them, I determined, after jiij ■;''||: ■] It ' : ^^H 1 1 B1 u ^K \ : J ' K !'!< ■ 1 1 1 1 >' 1 ■ 11 li ^Bl||i| i ' l^*'!'' Hjfij 1 f ' ' ■'' '! ■,-ii: f tv aui.'^*^y U 1 tK ■ m lit * 270 APPENDIX. hands tied behind his back like a thief or robber, flew to embrace him, and hanging on his neck, begged, with a flood of tears, we would be so merciful as to put an end to her life, that she might have the satisfaction — the only satisfaction she wished for in this world, of dying in the bosom of the man from whom she had vowed never to part The count, overwhelmed with grief^ did not utter a sin^e word. I could not find it in my heart, nor was I in a condition to interpose ; and indeed a scene of greater distress was never beheld by human eyes. However, I gave a signal to the notary to part them, which he did accordingly, quite unconcerned ; but the countess fell into a swoon, and the count was meantime carried down stairs, and out of the house, amid the loud lamentations and sighs of his servants, on all sides, for he was a man re- markable for the sweetness of his temper, and his kindness to all around him. Bemg arrived at the Inquisition, I consigned my pris- oner into the hands of a gaoler, a lay brother of St. Dom- inic, who shut him up in the dungeon above-mentioned, and delivered the key to me. I lay that night at the pal- ace of the Inquisition, where every counsellor has fkroom, and returned next morning the key to the inquisitfnr, teU* ing him that his order had been punctually complied with. The inquisitor had been already informed of my conduct by the notary, and therefore, upon my delivering the key to him, he said, ** You have acted like one who is at letat desirous to overcome, with the assistance of grace, the in- clinations of nature ; " that is, like one who is desirous, by the assistance of grace, to metamorphose himself from ft human creature into a brute or a deviL In the Inquisition, every prisoner is kept the first week of bis >ny>risonment in a dark narrow dnngecm* so low APPENDIX. !J71 that he cannot stand upright in it, irithont seeing anybody but the gaoler, who brings him, every other day^ his poi> tion of bread and water, the only food allowed him. Thia is done, they say, to tame him, and render him, thus weak- ened, more sensible of the torture, and less able to endure it. At the end of the week, he is brought in the night before the board to be examined ; and on that occasion my poor friend appeared so altered, in a week's tirne^ that, had it not been for his dress, I should not have known him. And indeed no wonder ; a change of condition so sudden and unexpected; the unworthy and barbaroua treatment he had already met wiih ; the apprehension of what he might and probably should suffer ; and perhaps, more than anything else, the distressed and forlorn con- dition of his once happy wife, whom he tenderly loved, whose company he had enjoyed only six months, could be attended with no other effect. Being asked, according to custom, whether he had any enemies, and desired to name them, he answered, that he bore enmity to no man, and he hoped no man bore enmity to him. For, as in the Inquisition the person accused is not told of the charge brought against bim, nor of the person by whom it is brought) the inquisitor asks him if he has any enemies, and desires him to name th^n. If he names the informer, all further proceedings are stopped until the informer is examined anew; and if t' i informa- tion is found to proceed from ill-will, and no collateral proof can be produced, the prisoner is discharged. Of this piece of justice they frequently boast, at the same time that they admit, both as informers and witnesses, persons of the most infamous characters, and such as are excluded by all other courts. In the next place, the priscmw is ordered to swear that he will dedare the truth. 1 272 APPENDIX. t U;-' 1 '[■ i- and conceal nothing from the holy tribanal, concerning himaelf or others, that he knows and the holy tribunal desires to know. He is then interrogated for what crime he has been apprehended and imprisoned by the Holy Court of the Inquisition, of all courts the most equitable, the most cautious, the most merciftil. To Uiat interrogap tory the count answered, with a faint and trenibling voice, that he was not conscious to himself of any crime, cogni- zable by the Holy Court, nor indeed by any other ; that he believed and ever had believed whatever holy mother church believed or required him to believe. He had, it seems quite forgotten what he had unthinkingly said at the sight of the two friars. The inquisitor, therefore, finding that he did not remember or would not own his crime, after many deceitful interrogatories, and promises which he never intended to fulfil, ordered him back to his dun- geon, and allowing him another week, as is customary in such cases, to recollect himself, told him that if he could not in that time prevail upon hunself to declare the truth, agreeably to his oath, means would be found of forcing it from him ; and he must expect no mercy. At the end of the week he was brought again before the infernal tribunal ; and being asked the same questions, re- turned the same answers, adding, that if he had done or said anything amiss, unwittingly or ignorantly, he was ready to own it, provided the least hint of it were given him by any there present, which he entreated them most earnestly to do. He often looked at me, and seemed to expect— which gave me such concern as no words can express— that I should say something in his favor. But I was not allowed to speak on this occasion, nor were any of the counsellors ; and had I been allowed to speak, I durst not have said anything in his favor; the advocate APPENDIX. 273 i], concerning holy tribunal )r what crime hy the Holy lost equitable, hat interrogar enibling ▼oice, J crime, cogni- ny other ; that sr holy mother B. He had, it nglysaidatthe lerefore, finding own bis crime, promises which ack to bis dun- jis customary in Lhat if be could edare the truth, found of forcing again before the le questions, re- |he bad done or iorantly,be was |of it were given eatedthem most p, and seemed to no worde can his favor. But .»ion, nor were lowed to speak, [or; the advocate appointed by the Inquisition, and commonly styled, ^ The Devil's Advocate," being the only person that is suffered to speak for the prisoner. The advocate belongs to the Inquisition, receives a salary from the Inquiaitioo, and is bound by an oath to abandon the defence of the prisoner, if he undertakes it, or not to undertake it, if he finds it cannot be defended agreeably to the laws of the Holy In- quisition; so that the whole is mere sham and impodtioo. I have heard this advocate, on other occasions, allege Btmiething in favor of the person accused; bnt on this occasion he dedar^ that he had nothii^ tooflfiar in deftinoe of the crimina]^ In the Inquisition, the person accused is always sup- posed guilty, unless he has named the accuser among hit enemies. And he is put to the torture if he does not plead guilty, and own the crime that is laid to his charge^ without being so much as told what it is ; whereas, in aU other courts, where tortures are used, the charge is de- dared to the party accused before he is tortured ; nor are they ever inflicted without a credible evidence of his guilt. But in the Inquisition, a man is frequently tortured upon the deposition of a person whose evidence would be ad- mitted in no other court, and in all cases without hearing the diarge. As my unfortunate fHend continued to main- tam his innocence, not reeolleoting what he had said, he was, agreeably to the laws of the Inquisitwn, put to the torture. He had scarcely borne it twenty minutes, erying out the whole time, " Jesus Maria I " when his voice failed him at IZ. 285 ual fire are for those who oppose the holy father^s will, and for heretics. They are put naked and alive into the pan, and the cover of it being locked up, the executioner begins to put in the oven a small fire, and hj degrees he augmenteth it, till the body is burned to ashes. The sec- mid is designed for those who speak against the Pope and the holy fathers. They are put within the wheel, and the door being locked, the executioner turns the wheel till the person is dead. The third is for those who contemn the images, and refuse to give the due respect and veneration to ecclesiastical persons ; for they are thrown alive into the pit, and there they become the food of serpents and toads.' Then Mary said to me that another day she would show me the torments for public sinners and trans- gressors of the commandments of holy mother church ; but I, in deep amazement, desired her to show me no more places ; for the very thought of those three which I had seen, was enough to terrify me to the heart. So we went to my room, and she charged me again to be very obedi- ent to all commands, for if I was not, I was sure to under- go the torment of the dry pan." Llorente, ihe Spanish historian and secretary*general of the Inquisition, relates the following incident : " A physician, Juan de Salas, was accused of having used a profane expression, twelve months before, in the heat of debate. He dedied the accusation, and produced several witnesses to prove his innocence. But Moriz, the inquis- itor at Yalladolid, where the charge was laid, caused de Salas to be brought into his presence in the torture-cham- ber, stripped to his shirt, and laid on a ladder or donkey ftai instrument resembling a wooden trough, just large enough to receive the body, with no bottom, but having a bar or bars 10 placed that the body bait, by ita own weight, into .1 » '^i 286 APPENDIX. )!' nil mi' an exquisitely painful position. His head was lower than his heels, and the breathing, in consequence, became ex- ceedingly difficult The poor man, so laid, was bound around the arms and legs with hempen cords, each of them encircling the limb eleven times. During this part of the operation they admonished him to confess the blasphemy; but he only" answered that he had never spoken a sentence of such a kind, and then, resigning himself to suffer, repeated the Athanasian creed, and prayed to God and our Lady many times. Being still bound, they raised his head, covered his face with a piece of fine linen, and, forcing open the mouth, caused water to drip into it from an earthen jar, slightly perfora- ted at the bottom, producing in addition to his sufferings from distension, a horrid sensation of choking. But again, when they removed the jar for a moment, he declared that he had never uttered such a sentence ; and this he often repeated. They then pulled the cords on his right leg, cutting into the flesh, replaced the linen on his face, dropped the water as before, and tightened the cords on his right leg the second time ; but still he maintained that he had never spoken such a thing ; and in answer to the questions of his tormentors, constantly reiterated that he had never spoken those words. Moriz then pronounced that the said torture should be regarded as begun, but not finished ; and De Salas was released, to live, if he could survive, in the incessant apprehension that if he gave the slightest umbrage to a familiar, he would be carried again into the same chamber, and be r, at a small distance Eit Inquisition, he was nd hj an order from In the mean time, , the unhappy wretch Rome, but he never W€U any care taken r with such narratives ire not writing a his* r wish to exhibit the are actuated in their y have power. We horrors, beg leave to fatiierljf benedictiont dismisses his refrac- ffit convincingly what had, among us, the old world, when the ace seal the doom of A POPISH BULL OB 0UB8E. ** Pronounced on all who leave the Church of Rome. By the authority of God Almighty, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and the undefiled Virgin Mary, mother and patroness of our Saviour, and of all celestial virtues, An- gels, Archangels, Thrones, Dominions, Powers, Cherubim and Seraphim, and of all the holy Patriarchs, Prophets, and of all the Apostles and Evangelists, of the holy inno- cents, who in the sight of the holy Lamb are found wor- thy to sing the new song of the Holy Martyrs and Holy Confessors, and of all the Holy Virgms, and of all the Saints, together with the Holy Elect of God, — May he be damned. We excommunicate and anathematize him, from the threshold of the holy church of Gk)d Almighty. We sequester him, that he may be tormented, disposed, and be delivered over with Datham and Abiram, and with those who say unto the Lord, * Depart from us, we desire none of thy ways ; ' as a fire is quenched with water, so let the light of him be put out forevermore^ unless it shall ^pent him, and make satisfaction. Amen. " May the Father who creates man, curse him. May the Son, who suffered for us, curse him I May the Holy Ghost who is poured out in baptism, curse him ! May the Holy Cross, which Christ for our salvation, triumphing over his enemies, ascended, curse him I '^May the Holy Mary, ever Virgin and Mother of Grod, curse him ! May all the Angels, Principalities, and Powers, and all heavenly Annies curse him ! May the glorious band of the Patriarchs and Prophets curse him I '^ May St. John the Precursor, and St. John the Bap- tist, and St. Peter and St. Paul, and St. Andrew and all other of Christ's Apostles together curse him and may 25 290 APPENDIX. III! I the rest of the Dlsciplen and Evangelists who by their preaching converted the universe, and the Holy and wonderful company of Martyrs and Confessors, who by their works are found pleasing to Grod Almighty; may the holy choir of the Holy Virgins, who for the honor of God have despised the things of the world, damn him. May all the Saints from the beginning of the world to everlast- ing ages, who are found to be beloved of God, damn him I '^May he be damned wherever he be, whether in the house or in the alley, in the woods or in the water, or in the church ! May he be cursed in living or dymg ! ^ May he be cursed in eatuig and drinking, in being hungry, in being thirsty, in fasting and sleeping, in slum- bering, and in sitting, in living, in working, in resting, and in blood letting I May be be cursed in all the fhculties of his body ! '* May he be cursed inwardly and outwardly. May he be cursed in his hair ; cursed be he in his brains, and hi) vertex, in his temples, in his eyebrow?, in his cheeks, in his jaw-bones, in his nostrils, in his teeth, and grinders, in his lips, in his shoulders, in his arms, and in his fingers. *^ May he be damned in his mouth, in his breast, in his heart, and purtenances, down to the very stomach ! < wiU he burnt. They may refuse them ai nouri ument, and permit them to die with hunger; or they til ay kill them as enemies, who violate the rights of humanity. — Escobar^ T%edg. Morale vol. 4, lib. 81, sec. 2, precept 4, prop. 6, p. 239." " A man condemned by the Pope, may be killed where- ever he is found. — La OroiXf vol. 1, p. 294. " Children may kill their paient8,if they would turn their children from the Popish faith.** *' If a judge decide con- trary to law, the injured person may defend himself by killing the judge.** ~~ Fangunde» Precept Decal, vol. 1, lib. 4, chap. 2, p. 601, 655, and vol. 2, lib. 8, chap. 82 ; p* 390. " To secretly kill your calumniatof, to avoid scandal, is justifiable." — ^yrauA, Cimf. p. dl9t i " You may kill before hand, any person who may pttt you to death, not exciting the judge^ and vitneuett be- cause it is self-defence." — Emanuel So. Aphor^ p. 178* '* A pri(»t mti^ kill those who hinder him from taking posse:' U a of any Ecclesiastical office." —.imt'ctM, Nunit 131. « You may charge your opponent with false crime to take away his credit, as well as kill him." — Guimeniutf prop, 8, p. 86. 292 APPENDIX. ! ^ ' ;■! , n> ]■!; i^ " Priests may kill the laity to preserve their goods." — Nblina, vol. 3, disput. 16, p. 1786. "You may kill any man to save a crown." — Tahemaf Si/nop. j'heol Tract, pars. 2 chap. 27, p. 256. " ^ the command of God it is lawful to murder the in* nocent, to rob, and to commit all kind of wickedness, be- cause he is the Lord of life and death, and aU things ; and thus to fulfill his mandate is our duty. — Alagona, Thorn. Aquin, Sum. Theol. Compend, Quest. 94, p. 230. Again, in the Eomish Creed found in the pocket of Priest Murphy, who was killed in the battle of Arklow, 1798, we find the following articles. " We acknowledge that the priests can make vice virtue, and virtue vice, according to their pleasure. " We are bound to believe that the holy massacre was lawful, and lawfully put into execution, against Protes- tants, and likewise we are to continue the same, provided with safety to our lives ! " We are bound not to keep our oaths with heretics, though bound by the most sacred ties. We are bound not to believe their oaths ; for their principles are damnation. We are bound to drive heretics with fire, sword, faggot, and confusion, out of the land ; as our holy fathers say, if their heresies prevail we will become their slaves. We are bound to absolve without money or price, those who imbrue their hands in the blood of a heretic ! " Do not these extracts show very clearly that Bomanism can do things as bad as anything in the foregoing narrative ? their goods." — APPENDIX VI. ROMANISM OF THE PSESEKT DAT. Whenever we refer to the relentless cruelties of the Bomanists, we are told, and that« too, hy the influential, the intelligent, those who are well-informed on other sub- jects, that "these horrid scenes transpired only in the 'dark ages;'" that "the civilization and refinement of the present age has so modified human society, so in- creased the milk of human kindness, that even Rome would not dare, if indeed she had the heart, to repeat the cruelties of by-gone days." For the honor of humanity we could hope that this Ojjinion was correct ; but facts of recent date compel us to believe that it is as false as it is ruinous to the best interests of our country and the souls of men. A few of these facts, gathered from unquestionable sources, and some of them related by the actors and sufferers them- selves, we place before the reader. In November, 1854, Ubaldus Borzinski, a monk of the Brothers of Mercy, addressed an earnest petition to the Pope, setting forth the shocking immoralities practised in the convents of his order in Bohemia. He specifies nearly forty crimes, mostly perpetrated by priors and sub- priors, giving time, place, and other particulars, entreating the Pope to interpose his power, and correct those horri- ble abuses. For sending this petition, he was thrown into a mad- 294 APPENDIX. If! i-lj ■ house of the Brothers of Mercy, at Prague, vrhere he still languishes in dreary confinement, though the only mark of insanity he ever showed was in imagining that the Pope would interfere with the pleasures of the monks. This Ubaldus has a brother, like minded with himself, also a member of the same irisnamed order of monks, who has recently effected his escape from durance vile. John Evangelist Borzinski was a physician in the con- vent of the Brothers of Mercy at Prague. He is a scien- tific and cultivated man. By the study of the Psalms and Lessons from the New Testament, which make up a considerable part of the Breviary used in cloisters, he was first led into Protestant views. He had been for seven- teen years resident in different cloisters of his order, as sick-nurse, alms gatherer, student, and physician, and knew the conventual life out and out. As he testifies : " There was little of the fear of God, so far as I could see, little of true piety ; but abundance of hypocrisy, eye- service, deception, abuse of the poor sick people in the hospitals, such love and hatred as are common among the children of this world, and the most shocking vices of every kind." He now felt disgust for the cloister life, and for the Romish religion, and he sought, by the aid of divine grace, to attain to the new birth through the Word of God. Speaking of his change of views to a Prussian clergyman, he thus describes his conversion : " Look you, it was thus I became a Protestant. I found a treasure in that dust- heap, and went away with it." This treasure he prized more and more. He then thought within himself, if these detached passages can give such light, what an illumina- tion he must receive if he could read and understand the whole Bible* APPENDIX. 295 He did not, however, betray his dissatisfaction, but devoted himself to his professional duties with gi*eater diligence. He might still have remained in the Order, his life hid with Christ in God, had not the hierarchy, un- der pretence of making reforms and restoring the neg- lected statutes of the Order, brought in such changes for the worse as led him to resolve to leave the order, and the Bomish church as well. Following his convictions, and the advice of a faithful but very cautious clergyman, he betook himself to the territories of Prussia, where, on the 17th of January, 1855, he was received into the na- tional church at Petershain, by Dr. Nowotny, himself formerly a Bohemian priest. This was not done till great efforts had been made to induce him to change his pur- pose, and also to get his person into the power of his adversaries. As he had now left the church of Rome, become an openly acknowledged member of another com- munion, he thought he might venture to return to his own country. Taking leave of his Prussian friends, to whom he had greatly endeared himself by his modesty and his lively faith, he went back to Bohemia, with a heart full of peace and joy. He lived for some time amidst many perplexities, se- cluded in the house of his parents at Prosnitz, till betrayed by some who dwelt in the same habitation. On the 6th of March he was taken out of bed, at eight, by the police, and conveyed first to the cloister in Prosnitz, where he suffered much abuse, and from thence to the cloister in Prague. Here the canon Dittrich, " Apostolical Convisi- tator of the Order of the Brothers of Mercy," justified all the inhuman treatment he had suffered, and threatened him with worse in case he refused to recant and repent. Dittrich not only deprived him of his medical books, but 206 APPENDIX. J • i '<■■ : : m'n im.: ■. V iv i^ i;!ii: told him that his going over to Protestantism was a greater crime than if he had plundered the convent of two thousand florins. He was continually dinned with the cry, " Retract, retract ! " He was not allowed to see his brother, confined m the same convent, nor other friends, and was so sequestered in his cell as^o make him feel that he was forgotten by all the world. He managed, through some monks who secretly sjrmpa- thized with him, to get a letter conveyed occasionally to Dr. Nowotny. These letters were filled with painful details of the severities practised upon him. In one of them he says, " My only converse is with God, and the gloomy walls around me." He was transferred to a cell in the most unwholesome spot, and infested with noisome smells not to be described. Close by him were confined some poor maniacs, sunk below the irrational brutes. Under date of April 23d he writes : " Every hour, in this frightful dungeon seems endless to me. For many weeks have I sat idle in this durance, with no occupation but prayer and communion with God." His appeals to civil authority and to the Primate of Hungary procured him no redress, but only subjected him to additional annoyances and hardships. His aged father, a man of four-score years, wept to see him, though of sound under- standing, locked up among madmen ; and when urged to make his son recant, would have nothing to do with it, and returned the same day to his sorrowful home. As he had been notified that he was to be imprisoned for life, he prayed most earnestly to the Father of mercies for deliverance ; and he was heard, for his prayers and endeavors wrought together. The sinking of his health increased his efforts to escape ; for, though he feared not to die, he could not bear the thought of dying imprisoned APPENDIX. 297 in a mad-house, where he knew that his enemies would take advantage of his mortal weakness to administer their sacraments to him, and give out that he had returned to the bosom of the church, or at least to shave his head, that he might be considered as an insane person, and his renunciation of Romanism as the effect of derangement of mind. Several plans of escape were projected, all beset with much difficulty and danger. The one he de- cided upon proved to be successful. On Saturday, the 13th of October, at half-past nine in the evening, he fastened a cord made of strips of linen to the grate of a window, which grate did not extend to the top. Having climbed over this, he lowered himself into a small court-yard. He had now left that part of the establishment reserved for the insane, and was now in the cloistered part where the brethren dwelt. But here his fortune failed him. He saw at a distance a servant of the insane approaching with a light ; and with aching heart and trembling limbs, by a desperate effort, climbed up again. He returned to his cell, concealing his cord, and laid himself down to rest. On the following Monday, he renewed his efforts to escape. He lowered himself, as before, into the little court-yard ; but being weak in health and much shaken in his nervous system by all he had suffered in body and mind, he was seized with palpitation of the heart and trembled all over, so that he could not walk a step. He laid down to rest and recover his breath. He felt as if he could get no further. " But," he says in his affecting narrative, " My dear Saviour to whom I turned in this time of need, helped me wonderfully. I felt now, more than ever in my life. His gracious and comforting pros- ence, and believed, in that dismal moment, with my whole it- 298 IPPENDIX. I. UJ^ li (f soul, His holy word ; " My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Borzinski now arose, pulled o£f his boots, and though every step was made with difficulty, he ascended the stairs leading to the first story. He went along the passage way until he came to a door leading into corridors Vhere the cloister brethren lodged. But the trembling fit came over him again, with indescribable anguish, as he sought to open the door with a key with which he had been furnished. He soon rallied again, and, like a spectre, gliding by the doors of the brethren, who occupied the second and third corridors, many of whom had lights still burning, he came with his boots in one hand, and hid bundle in the other, to a fourth passage way, in which was an outside window he was trying to reach. The cord was soon fastened to the window frame, yet still in bitter apprehension ; for this window was seldom opened, and opened hard, and with some noise. It was also only two steps distant from the apartment of the cloister physician, where there was a light, and it was most likely that, on the first grating of the window, he would rush out and apprehend the fugitive. However the window was opened without raising any alarm, and now it was necessary to see that no one was passing below ; for though the spot is not very much fre- quented, yet the streets cross there, and people approach it from four difierent directions. During these critical moments, one person and another kept passing, and poor Borzinski tarried shivering in the window for near a quarter of an hour before he ventured to let himself down. While he was waiting his opportunity he heard the clock strike the third quarter after nine and knew that he had but fifteen minutes to reach the house where he was to conceal himself, which would be closed at ten. When all APPENDIX. 299 was still, he called most fervently on the Saviour, and grasping the cord, slid down into the street. He could scarce believe his feet were on the ground. Trembling now with joy and gratitude rather than fear, he ran bare- headed to his place of refuge, where he received a glad welcome. Having changed his garb, and tarried till three o'clock in the morning, he took leave of his friends and passing through the gloomy old capital of Bohemia, he reached the Portzitscher Gate, in order to pass out as early as possible. Just then a police corporal let in a wagon, and Borzinski, passed out unchallenged. It is needless to follow him further in his flight. We have given enough of his history to prove that conventual establishments are at this moment what they ever have been— dangerous alike to liberty and life. Jbnerican tmd Foreign Christian Union, In place of labored arguments we give the following' history of personal suffering as strikingly illustrative oi the spirit of Romanism at the present day. P''!lli, 0' ' H APPENDIX VII. I • I i \- m NABBATIVE OF 8I0N0RINA FLORIENCIA D* ROMANI, A NATIVE OF THE CtTT OF NAPLES. I was born in the year ,1826, of noble and wealthy parents. Our mansion contained a small chapel, with many images, sacred paintings, and a neatly furnished mass altar. My father was a man of the world. He loved the society of fashionable men. As he lived on the rents and income of his estates, he had little to do, except to amuse himself with his friends. My mother, who was of a mild and sweet disposition, loved my father very dearly, but was very unhappy the most of the time because my father spent so much of his time in drinking with his dissolute companions, card playing, and in balls, parties, theatres, operas, billiards, &c. Father did not intend to be unkind to my mother, for he gave her many servants, and abundance of gold, horses, carriages and grooms, and said frequently in my hearing, that his wife should be as happy as a princess. Such was the state of society in Italy that men thought their wives had no just reason to complain, so long as they were furnished with plenty of food, raiment and shelter. One of my father's most intimate friends was the very Rev. Father Salvator, a Priest of the order of St. Francis; he wore the habit of the order, his head was about half shaved. The sleeves of his habit were very large at the elbow: in these sleeves he had small pockets, in which he ▲PPBNDIl. 301 usually carried his snoff box, handkerchief, and pane of gold. This priest was merry, full of fun and frolic; he could dance, sing, play cards, and tell admirably funny stories, such as would make even the devils laugh in their chains. Such was the influence and power this Franciscan had over my father and mother, that in our house, his word was law. He was our confessor, knew the secrets and sins, and all the weak points of every mind in the whole household. My own dear mother taught me to read before I was seven years of age. As I was the only child, I was much petted and caressed, indeed, such was my mother's affection for me that I was seldom a moment out of her sight There was a handsome mahogany confess- ional in our own chapel. When the priest wanted any member of the household to come to him to confession, he wrote the name on a slate that hung outside the chapel door, saying that he would hear confessions at such a time to-morrow. Thus, we would always have time for the full examination of our consciences. Only one at a time was ever admitted into the chapel, for confessional duty, and the priest always took care to lock the door inside and place the key in his sleeve pocket* My mother and myself were obliged to confess once a week ; the house- hold servants, generally once a month. My father only once a year, during Lent, when all the inhabitants of seven years, and upwards, are obliged to kneel down to the priests, in the confessional, and receive the wafer God under the severest penalties. Woe to the individual who resists the ecclesiastical mandate. When I was about fourteen years of age, I was sent to the Ursuline Convent, to receive my education. My dear mother would have preferred a governess or a competent 19 302 APPENDIX. 'it' <: : » : Kt I teacher to teach me at home but her will was but a mere straw in the hands of our confessor and priestly tyrant. It was solely at the recommendation of the confessor, that I was imprisoned four years in the Ursuline Convent. As my confessor was also the confessor of the convent, he called himself my guardian and protector, ^and recommen- ded me to the special care of the Mother Abbess, and her holy nuns, the teachers, who spent much of their time in the school department. As my father paid a high price, quarterly, for my tuition and board, I had a good room to myself, my living was of the best kind, and I always had wine at dinner. The nuns, my teachers, took much more pains to teach me the fear of the Pope, bishops and con- fessors, than the fear of God, or the love of virtue. In fact, with the exception of a little Latin and embroidery, which I learned in those four years, I came out as igno- rant as I was before, unless a little hypocrisy may be called a useful accomplishment. For, of all human beings on earth, none can teach hypocrisy so well as the Bomish priests and nuns. In the school department young ladies seldom have much to complain of, unless they are charity scholars ; in that case the poor girls have to put up with very poor fare, and much hard work, hard usage and even heavy blows ; how my heart has ached for some of those unfortunate girls, who are treated more like brutes, than human beings, because they are orphans, and poor. Yet they in justice are entitled to good treatment, for thous- ands of scuddi (dollars) are sent as donations to the con- vents for the support of these orphans, every year, by benevolent individuals. So that as poor and unfortunate as these girls are, they are a source of revenue to the convents. For the first three years of my convent life, I passed P • I APPENDIX. 303 nvent life, I passed the time in the school department, without much anxiety cf mind. I was gay and thoughtless, my great trouble was to find something to amuse myself, and kill time in some way. Though I treated all the school-mates with kindness, and true Italian politeness, I became intimate with only one. She was a beautiful girl, from the duke- dom of Tuscany. She made me her confidant, and told me all her heart. Her parents were wealthy, and both very strict members of the Romish Church. But she had an aunt in the city of Geneva, who was a follower of John Calvin, or a member of the Christian church of Switzerland. This aunt had been yearly a visitor at her father's house. She being her father's only sister, an affectionate intimacy was formed between the aunt and niece. The aunt, being a very pious, amiable woman, felt it her duty to impress the mind of the niece, with the superiority of the religion of the holy bible over popish traditions ; and the truth of the Scriptures soon found its way to the heart of my young friend. But her confessor soon found out that some change was going on in her mind, and told her father. There were only two ways to save her soul from utter ruin ; one was to give her abso- lution and kill her before she got entirely out of the holy mother church ; the other, was to send her to the Ursu- line convent at Naples, where by the zeal and piety of those celebrated nuns, she might be secured from further heresy. From this, the best friend of my school days, I learned more about God's word, and virtue, and truth, and the value of the soul, than from all other sources. There was a garden surrounded hy a high wall, in which we fre- quently walked, and whispersd to each other, though we trembled all the while for feiar our confessor would by •# 304 ▲PPINDIX. i some means, find out that we looked upon the Romish church as the Babylon destined to destruction, plainly spoken of by St. John the revelator. My young friend stood in great fear of the priests \ she trembled at the very sight of one. Her aunt had read to her the history and sufferings of the persecuted Protestants of Europe. She was a frail, and timid girl, yet such was the depth of her piety and the fervor of her religious faith, that she often declared to me that she would prefer death to the abandonment of those heavenly principles she had embraced, which were the source of her joy and hope. Her aunt gave her a pocket New Testament, in the Italian language, which she prized above all the treasures of earth, and carried \f'Jh her carefully, wheit,?**** she went. I borrowed it and road it every opportunity I had. Several chapters I learned by heart. J took much pains to commit to mem- ory all I could of the blessed book , for in ease of our separation, I knew not where I could obtain another. My god-father who was a bishop, called to see me on my fifteenth birth day, and presented me with a splendid gold watch and chain richly studded with jewels, made in Eng- land, and valued at 200 scudi, saying that he had it im- ported expressly for my use. I had also several diamond articles of jewelry, presents I had received from my father from time to time. I had also, in my purse, 100 scudi in gold, which I had saved from my pin money. All the above property, I should have cheerfully given for a copy of the Holy Bible, in my own beautiful Italian language. A few months after I received the rich present from the Bishop, he called with my father and my confes- sor to see me. My heart almost came into my mouth when I saw them alight from my father's carriage, and APPENDIX. 306 of the priestt ; sbe enter the chapel door of the C( invent. Very soon the lady porter came to me and said, " Signorina, you are wanted in the parlor." As my Tuscan friend had taught mo to pray, and ask the Lord Jesus for grace and strength, I walked into my room, locked the door, and on my knees, called upon the Lord to save me from becoming a nun — for I knew then it was a determination on the part of the Abbess, bishop and confessor, that I should take the veil. I was the only child, and heiress of an immense fortune, of course, too good a prize to be lost. After a short and fervent prayer to my Lord and Saviour, I walked down to see what was to be my doom. I kissed my father's cheek, and kissed the hands of the Bishop and confessor— yet my very soul revolted from the touch of these whited sepulchres. All received me with great cordiality, yea, even more than usual affection. Soon after our meeting, my father asked permission of the Bishop to speak to me privately and taking me into a small room, said to me, " My dear daughter, you are not aware of the great misfortune that has recently come upon your father. While I was excited with wine at the card-table last evening, betting high and winning vast sums of money, I so far forgot myself and my duty to the laws of the country, that I called for a toast, and induced a number of my inebriated companions to drink the health of Italian liberty, and we all drank and gave three cheers for liberty and a liberal constitution. A Benedictine Friar being present, took all our names to the Commissary General, and offered to be a witness against us in the King's Court. As this is my first and only offence, the holy Bishop your god-father offers on certain conditions, to visit Rome immediately on my be- half, and secure the mediation of the holy Father Fius * 86* I :M 306 APPENPIZ. ' I H " 5 \*l]: IX. Your venerable god^father has great influence at Rome, being a special favorite with his holiness, and his holiness can obtain any favor he asks of King Ferdinand. So if you will only consent to take the Black Veil, your father will be saved from the State prison." This was terrible news to my young and palpitating heart. It was the first heavy blow that I bad experienced in this vale of tears. I did not speak for some minutes ; I could not. My trembling bosom heaved like the \fave8 of the ocean before the blast. My veins were almost bursting ; my hands and feet became as cold as marble, and when I attempted to speak my words seemed ready to choke me to death. I thought my last hour had come. I fell upon my knees and called upon God for mercy and help. My father, thinking I had gone mad, was greatly alarmed. The Bishop and confessor, who were anxiously waiting the result of my father's proposition, hearing my father weep and sob aloud, came in to see what the mat- ter was. In the midst of my prayer, I fainted away, and became entirely unconscious. When I came to myself, I found myself on the bed. As I opened my eyes, it lUI seemed like a dream. The abbess spoke to me very kindly, and sprir liled my bed with holy water, and at the same time laid •* .'arge bronze crucifix on my breast, say- ing that Satan . mat be driven from my soul, for had it not been for the devil, I would have leaped for joy, and not fainted when father mentioned the black veil. "No," said the holy mother, " had it, not been for the devil you would rejoice to take the holy black veil blessed by the Holy Ma;donna and the blessed saints Clara and Theresa. It is a holy privilege that very few can enjoy on earth. Tea, my daughter, there can not be a greater sin in the sight of the Madonna and the blessed saints, than to reject nn APPENDIX. 307 a secluded life. Yea," said the crafty old nun, (who "was thinking much more about my gold, than my soul,) " I never knew a young lady who had the offer of becoming a nun and rejected it, who ever came to a good end. If they refuse, and marry, they generally die in child-bed with the first child, or they will marry cruel husbands, who beat them and kill them by inches. Therefore, dear daughter, let me most affectionately warn you as you have had the honor of being selected by the holy Bishop and pur holy confessor to the high dignity and privilege of a professed nun, of the order of St. Ursula, reject it not at your peril. Be assured, heaven knows how to punish such rebellion." My head ached so violently at the time, and I was so feverish that I begged the old woman to send for my mother, and to talk to me no more on the subject of the black veil, but to drop it until some future time. In my agony on ac- count of the foul plot against my liberty, my virtue, and my gold, I felt such a passion of rage come upon me, that had I absolute power for the moment I would have cast every Abbess, Pope, Bishop and Priest into the bottomless pit. May the Lord forgive me, but I would have done it at that time with a good will. The greatest comfort I now had was reading my Tuscan friend's New Testament, or hearing it read by her when we had a chance to be by ourselves, which was not very often. In the evening of the same day of my illness, father and mother came to see me, and Satan came also in the shape of the confessor ; so that I had not a moment alone with my dear parents. The con- fessor feared my determined opposition to a convent's life, for he had previous to this, several times in the confess- ional, dropped hints to me on the great happiness, purity, serenity and joy of all holy nuns. But I always told 11 ', 308 APPENDIX. I I I'lH'l 'r . him I would not be a nun for the world. I should be so good, it would kill me in a short time. " No, no, father," said I, "I will not he a nun." Father spoke to me again of his great misfortune — told mo that his trial would come on in a few days and that he was now at liberty on a very heavy bail ; that the Bishop was only waiting my answer to start im- mediately for the holy city, and throw himself at the feet of the holy Pope to procure father's unconditional pardon from the King. I said " my dear father, how long will you be imprisoned if you do not get a pardon ? " " From two to five years," he replied. " My daughter, it is my first offence, and I have witnesses to prove that the priest who appeared against me, urged me to drink wine several times after I had drank a large quantity, and was the direct cause of my saying what I did." Now it all came to me, that the whole of it was a plot, a Jesuitical trick, to get my father in the clutches of the law, and then make a slave of me for life through my sympathy for my dear father. The vile priests knew that I loved my father most ardently ; in fact, my father and mother were the only two beings on earth that I did love. My mother I loved most tenderly, but my affection for my father was of a different kind. I loved him most violently, with all the ardor of my soul. Mother seemed all the home to me; Imt father was to me all the world beside. My father was all the brother I had. He would frequently come home, and get me to go out into the garden and play with Uiii^, just as though he was my brother. There we would swing, run, jump and exercise in several healthy games,' common in our climate. He never gave me an unkind word or an unkind reproof. If I did say anything f) ».♦ :ff^'>. APPENDIX. 309 wrong, he would take me to my mother and say, " Clara, here I bring you a prisoner, let her be kept on bread and waier till dinner time." Even when mother had dis- pleased him about some trifle, so that he had not a smile for her, he always had a smile for his Flora. Even now, while I write, a chill comes over my frame, while I think of that vile Popish plot. I said to my father, " You shall not be imprisoned if I can prevent it ; at the same time I do not see any great gain, comfort or profit in having your only daughter put in prison for life, without the hope of lib- erty ever more, to save you from two years imprisonment." At these words, the eyes of the confessor flashed like lurid lightnings ; his very frame shook, as though he had the fever and ague. Truth seemed so strange to the priest, that he found it hard of digestion. Father and mother both wept, but made no reply. The idea of put- ting their only child in a dungeon for life, though it might be done in the sacred name of religion, did not seem to give them much comfort. " Father," sard I, " I wish to see you at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, without fail— I wish to see you alone ; don't bring mother or any one else with you. You shall not go to prison, all will yet be well." On account of this reasonable request, to see my father alone, the confessor arose in a terrible rage and left the apartment. As quick as the mad priest left us to our^ selves, I told my father my plan, or what I would like to do with his permission. My plan was, for my mother and myself to get into our carriage and drive to the pal- ace of King Ferdimuad and make him acquainted with all the truth ; for I was aware from what I had heard, that the King had heard only the priest's side of the story. My father stood in such fear of the priests that he only con- sented to my pUa with great reluctance, saying that we ., I 1 ■ ■ i 310 APPENDIX. I!:! ought first to make our plan known to the confessor, lest he should be offended. To this my mother responded, saying, " My daughter, it would be very wrong for us to go to the King, or take any step without the advice of our spiritual guide." Here, I felt it to be my duty to reveal to my deceived parents some of the secrets of tlie con- fessional, though I might, in their estimation, be guilty of an unpardonable sin by breaking the seal of iniquity. I revealed to my parents the frequent efforts of the priest to obtain my consent to take the veil, and that I had opposed from first to last, every argument made use of to rob me of the society of my parents, of my liberty, and of everything I held dear on earth. As to the happiness of the nuns so much talked of by the priests, from what I had seen in their daily walk and general deportment, I was fully convinced that there was no reality in it ; they were mere slaves to their superiors, and not half so happy as the free slaves on a plantation who have a kind master. My parents saw my determination to resist to the death every plan for my imprisonment in the hateful nunnery. Therefore they promised that I should have the opportu- nity to see the King on the morrow in company with my mother. On the following day, at twelve o'clock, we left the convent in our carriage for the palace. We were very politely received by the gentleman usher, who conducted us to seats in the roception-room. After sending our cards to the king, we waited nearly one hour before he made his appearance. His majesty received us with much kindness, raised us immediately from our knees, and de- manded our business. I was greatly embarrassed at first, but the frank and cordial manner of the sovereign soon restored me to my equilibrium, and I spoke freely in be- APPENDIX. 311 half of mj dear father. The king heard me through very patiently, with apparent interest, and said, " Signor- ina, I ani inclined to believe you have spoken the truth ; and as your father has always been a good loyal subject, I shall, for your sake, forgive him this offence ; but let him beware that henceforth, wine or no wine, he does not trespass against the laws of the kingdom, for a second offence I will not pardon. Go in peace, 8ignoras,.you have my royal word.'* We thanked his majesty, and returned to our home with the joyful tidings. 0, how brief was our joy I My father, who had been waiting the result of our visit to the palace with great impatience, received us with open arms, and pressed us to his heart again and again. I was so excited that, long before we got to him, I cried out, " All is well, all is well, father. A pardon from the king I Joy, joy I " "We drove home, and father went im- mediately to spread the happy news amongst his friends. All our faithful domestics, including my old affectionate nurse, were so overjoyed at the news that they danced about like maniacs. My father was always a very indul- gent and liberal master, furnished his servants with the best of Italian fare, plenty of fresh beef, wine, and maca- roni. We had scarcely got rested, when our tormenter, the confessor, came into our room and said, " Signoras, what is the meaning of all this fandango and folly amongst the servants ? Are the heretics aU kittedf that there should be such joy, or has the queen been delivered of a son, an heir to the throne ? " My dear mother was now as pale as death, and silent, for she saw that the priest was awfully enraged ; for, al- though he feigned to smile, his smile was similar to that of the hyena when digging his prey out of the grave. 312 APPENDIX. I i I I iO:! ', i •f»i The priest's dark and villainous visage bad tbe etfeet of confirming in mj mother's mind all the truth regarding the plot to enslave me for life, and secure all my father's estate to the pockets of the priests. The confessor was now terribly mad, for two obvious reasons : one was be- cause he was not received by us with our usual cordiality and blind affection ; the other, because, by the king's par- don, I was not under the necessity to sacrifice my liberty and happiness for life to save my father from prison ; and what tormented him the most Tas, that he believed that I, though young, could understand and thwart his hellish plans. As my mother trembled and was silent, fearing the priest was cursing her and her only daughter in his he'^rt, — for the priests tell such awful stories about the elfects of a priest's curse that the great mass of the Ital- ian people fear it more than the plague or any earthly misfortune. The popish priests declare thai St. Peter is the door- keeper of the great city of Grod, the heavenly Jerusalem, that he has the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and has received strict orders not to admit any soul, under any cir- cumstances, who has been cursed by a holy priest, unless that eurse has been removed by the same priest m the tribunal of penance. I was obliged to speak to his rev- erence, and I felt so free, so happy in Christ as my only hope, that I opened my mind to the priest very fireely, and told him what I thought of him and his plot. '^Sir priest," said I,^* I shall never return to the convent to stay long. As soon as the time for my education ends, I shall return to liberty and domestic life. I am not made of the proper material to make a nun of. I love the social do- mestic circle ; I love my father and mother, and all our domestics, even the dogs and the cats, pigeons, and cana- APPENDIX. S13 lad the effect of truth regarding I all my father's le confessor vras ins : one ivas be- r usual cordiality )y the king's par- rifice my liberty from prison ; and le believed that I, hwart his hellish ivas silent, fearing y daughter in his stories about the t mass of the Ital- ic or any earthly Peter is the door- avenly Jerusalem, heaven, and has |oul, under any cir- holy priest, unless lame priest in the speak to his rev- Jhrist as my only ist very freely, and his plot. ** Sir the convent to stay ition ends, I shall _ not made of the ,ve the social do- ►ther, and all our ►igeons, and cana- ries, the fish-ponds, play-grounds, gardens, rivers, and landscapes, mountain and ocean, — all the works of God I love. I shall live out of the convent to enjoy these things; therefore, reverend sir, if you value my peace and good-will, never speak to me or my parents on the subject of my becoming a nun in any convent. I shall prefer death to the loss of my personal liberty." I was so decided, and had received such strength and grace from heaven, that the priest was dumbfounded, -— my smooth stone out of the sling had hit him in the right place. After much effort to appear bland and good-na- tured, he drew near my chair, seized my hand, and said, « My dear daughter, you mistake me. I love you as a daughter, I wish only your happiness. Your god-father, the holy Bishop, does not intend that you shall remain a common nun more than a year. After the first year you shall be raised to the highest dignity in the convent. You shall be the Lady Superior, and all the nuns shall bow at your feet, and implicitly obey your commands. " The Lady Superior of St. Clara is now very old, and his lordship wishes soon to fill her place. For that pur- pose he has selected his adopted daughter. Your talents, education, wealth, and high position in society, eminently fit you for one of the highest dignities on earth." " A thousand thanks for the kindness of my lord Bish- op," said I ; " but your reverence has not altered my mind in the least. I can neyer bow down to the feet of any Lady Superior, neither w 11 1 ever consent to see a single human being degraded at my feet The holy Bible says, 'Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.' " " Bible, my daughter! " exclaimed the priest, " Where did you see that dangerous book ? £now you not that his holiness the Pope has placed it in the 2" 314 AFPSNDIX. I s Index Expurgatorius, because it has been the means of the damnation of millions of souls ? Not because it is in itself a bad book, but because it is a theological work, prepared only for the priests and ministers of our holj religion. Therefore, it is always a very dangerous book in the hands of women or laymen^ who wrest the Scrip- tures to their own destruction." " Well, reverend sir," I replied, " you seem determined to differ from the Lord Jesus and his apostles. I read in the New Testament that we should search the Scriptures because they testify of Christ. And one of the apostles, I don't remember which, said, * all scripture is given by ^e inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine and for instruction in righteousness.' Now, reverend sir, if the people have souls, as well as the priests, why should they not read the word of God which speaks of Christ and is profitable for instruction ?" " You are ahnost a heretic ! " exclaimed the priest, "and you talk very much like one." His countenance changed to a pale sickly hue, as he said, '* My daughter, where did you get that dangerous book ? If you have it in your possession, give it to me, and I will bless yoU) and pray for you to the blessed Madonna that she may save you from the infernal pit of heresy." " I do not own the blessed book," said I, " but I wish I did. I would give one hundred scudi in gold for a copy of the New Testament. I borrowed a copy from a friend, and returned it to the owner again. But I under- stand that there are copies to be had in London, and when I have a good opportunity I shall send for a copy, if I can do it unbeknown to any one." *' Enough, enough I " exclaimed the priest " I shall be in the tribunal of penance at six o'clock P; M. ; there I APPENDIX. 315 aidl,"bttt I wish Icudi in gold for a Wed a copy from a Lain. Tiutlunder- ^ in London, and lU send for a copy, priest « I shall be ' - P.M.;thereI shall expect to meet you. Ton need pardon immediately, and spiritual advice. Should yon die as you now are without absolution, you would be lost and damned forever. I tremble for yon, my dear daughter, «eeing tl\at the devil has got such a powerful hold of you. It may even be ab- solutely necessary to kill the body to save your soul ; for should yx>u relapse again into heresy after due penance for this crime has been perfoimed, it would be impossible to renew you agun to repentance, seeing you crucify the Lord and the Madonna afresh, and put them to an <^>en shame." Here my mother fainted and shook like an aspen leaf. But G*Ad gave me strength, and I said in a moment diat as his reverence thought my sins so greait, I would not ge to any man, no, not even to the Pope ; I would go to God alone, and leave my cause in his habds, life or death. "Therefore, reverend sir, I shall save you frgm all further trouble in attending the confessional any more on my accoignt. From henceforth no earthly power shall drag me alive and wHh my consent to the tribunal c^ penance.** " Woman 1" exclaimed Ac priest furiously, '* are yon mad ? There are ten thousand devils in yon, and we must drive them out by some means.** After this dischai^ of priestly venom, the priest left in a rage giving the door a terrible slam, which awoke my mother from her sorroTf- fhl trance. During the whole conversation, such was the electrical power of the priest over my mother'^) weak and n^^ous system, that if she attempted to say a word in my behalf, the keen, snakish black eye of the priest would at once make her tremble and quail before him, and the hatf uttered word would remain siient on her lips. The priest went at once in search of my fatfaei*. He came home boil- ing over with rage, saying he wished I had never been bom. He cursed the day of my birth. ^Tb» cause <^ all 316 APPENDIX. I ■ this paternal fury upon my poor devoted head was the foul misrepresentations of my father confessor, who was now in league with the Bishop, both determined to shut me up in a prison convent, or end my mortal career. My poor mother remained mute and heart-broken. My sweet mother ; never did she utter ^ne word of unkindness to me ; her very look to the last was one of gentleness and love. But my father loved honor and rep- utation amongst men above all other things. The idea of being the father of an accursed heretic, tormented his pride, and he being suspected of heresy himself caused him to be forsaken by many of his proud friends and acquaintances. He was even insulted in the streets by the numerous Lazaroni, with the epithet of Maldito Cor- Tobonari, so that I lost my father's love. And when the confessor told him there was no other way to save me from heU than an entire life of penance in a convent, he heartily and freely gave his consent. Mother, my own 6weet mother, my only remaining friend, turned as pale as death, but was enabled to say a word in my behalf. I saw that my earthly doom was sealed ; there was not a single voice in all Naples to save me from imprisonment for life. Not a tongue in four hundred thousand that would dare speak one word in my behalf. Father com- manded me to get ready to leave his house forever that very night, saying the carriage and confessor would be on . hand to take me away at eight o'clock p. m., by moonlight. I got on my knees and begged my father as a last request that he would allow me to remain three days with my mother, but he refused. Said he, ** That is now beyond my power. Not an hour can you remain afler eight o'clock." As I knew not when I should see my Tuscan friend again, I begged the privilege of seeing ^her for a few mo- APPENDIX. 317 mentu. I was anxious to ask her prayers and sympathy, and to put her on her guard, for should the priests dis- cover her New Testament, they would punish her as they did me, or as they intended to do to me. But this favor was denied me, and I could not write to her, for all letters of the scholars in the convents, are opened under the pre- tence to prevent them from receiving love*letters. The Bomish church keeps all her dark plans a secret, but never allows any secret to be kept from the priests. I went into my room to bid farewell to my home for- ever. I fell on my knees and prayed to God for his dear Son's sake to help me, to give me patience, and to keep me from the sin of suicide. The more I thought of my utterly unprotected situation and of the savage disposition of my foes, the priests, the more I thought of the pro- priety of taking my own life, rather than live in a dungeon all my dap. Such was the power of superstition over our domestics that they looked upon me as one accursed of the church, a Protestant heretic, and not one of them would take my hand or bid me good bye. At tea-time I was not allowed to sit at table with father, mother, and the confessr/r, as formerly. But 'I bst^ my supper sent up to my room. -" • A short time after the bell rang for vespers, the car- riage being ready, my father and the confessor with my- self and one small trunk got into the best seats inside, and rode off at a rapid rate. I kept my veil over my face, and said not a word neither did I shed a single tear ; my sor* row and indignation was too deep for utterance or even for tears. The priest and my father uttered not a word. Perhaps my father's conscience made him ashamed of such vile work — that of laying violent hands on a defenceless girl of eighteen years of age, for no crime 27* 318 APPENDIX. I* "' A i j; m It' 5,.' i ).' K , H n V II whatever, onlj the love of liberty and pure Bible religion. But if the priest was silent, his vile countenance indicated a degreti'^t hellish pleasure and satisfaction. Never did piratical'captain glory more in seeing a rich prize along side with all hands killed and out of the way, than my rev- erend confessor ; yet a short time before he said he loved v and the sailors appeared neat and happy. Even the blfM^k cook showed his beautiful white teeth, as though ho was glad to see one of the ladies of Italy. Poor fellows I Little did they know at that time what peril I was in should I be found out and taken back to my dungeon again. I informed the captain of my situation, of having just es- caped from a convent into which I had been forced against my wilL I told him I would pay him my passage to America, if he would hide me somewhere until the ship was well out to sea. He said I had oome just in time, for he was only waiting for a fair wind).«id hoped to be 324 APPENDIX, ^' ■!'!'';?: ■;H ii Lii off that evening. ' I have/' said he, " a large number of bread-casks on board, and two are empty. I shall have you put into one of these, in which I shall make augur- holes, so that you can have plenty of fresh air. Down in the hold amongst the provisions you will be safe." I thanked my kind friend and requ .sted him to buy me some needles, silk, and cotton thread, and some stuff for a couple of dresses, and one piece of fine cotton, so that I might make myself comfortable during the voyage. After I ate my dinner, the men called the captain and suid there were several boats full of soldiers coming to the ship, accompanied by the priests. **Lady," ex- claimed the captain, " they are after you. There is not a moment to be lost. Follow me," he continued. ^m certainlj would hav^ given up a mad womaa for the take of five thousand sc. ^* in gold, and for the safety of his own peace and comi . A few moments after the Pope's friends had left, the euielient benevolent captain came down, and speedily and gently knocking off a few hoopa with a hammer, to^ the head out, and I wa^ firee once aHore to breathe God's free air. I lifted my trembling heart in thanksgiving, while tears of gratitude rolled down my cheeks. Yet, as we Were still within the reach <^ the guns of the papal forts, my heart was by no means at rest. But the good capbvin assured me repeatedly that all dan- ger was past, for he had twenty-five men on board, all true Protestants, and he declared that all the priests of Naples would walk over their dead bodies before they should reach his vessel a second time. *^ And besides," said the oaptain, ** there are two American men-of-war in port, who will stand up for the rights of Americans. They have not yet forgotten Captain Jngraham, of the United States ship St. Louis, and his rescue from the Austrian papists of the Hungarian patriot, Martin Kozsta." The captain wisely refused to purehase any needles or thread for me on shores or any articles of ladies' dress, for fear of the Jesuitical spies, who might surmise something and cause further trouble. But he kindly furnished me with some goods he had purehased for his own wife, and there were needles and silk enough on board, so that I soon cut and made a few articles that made me very comfortable during our voyage of thirty-two days to London^ Early the next morning we sailed out of the beautiful harbor of Naples^ with a fair wind. The beautiful ship seemed to fiy over the blue sea. I staid on deck gazing at my native city as long as I could. I thought then of my once happy hcnaie^ of my poor, brdken-hearted mother. APPENDIX. 827 of my unhappy father. Although he had cast me off through the foul plaj of Jesuitical intrigue, my love for my dear father remained the same. " Farewell, my dear Italy," I said to myself. ** When, my poor native land, wilt thou be happy? Never, never, so long as the Pope lives, and his wicked, murderous priests, to curse thee by their power.** After we got out into the open sea, the motion of the ahip made me feel rexy sick, and I was so starved out before I came on board, that what good provisions I ate on board did not seem to agree with me. My stomach was in a very bad state, lor while I was in the lower regions of the convent I ate only a sm«ll quanti^ of very stale hard bread once in twenty-four Lu^jSf at the ringing of the vesper beUs every evening, and the water ^ven me was that in which the holy Mother Abbess had washed her sacred feet. But I must give the hdy mother credit for one good amission -^ she did not use any sof^[>. The captain gave me a good state-room which I occu- pied with an English lady passenger. This good lady was accustomed to the sea, therefore, she did not suffer any inconvenience from sea-sickness ; but I was very sick, so that I kept my berth for five days. This good Protestant lady was very kind and attentive durin£ the whole pas- sage, and kindly assisted me in getting my garments made up on board. On our arrival in London, the captain said that he would sail for America in two weeks time, and very kindly offered me a free passage lo his happy, native land ; and I could not persuade him to take any money for my passage from Naples, nor for the clothing he had given me. My fellow passenger being wealthy, and well acquainted 328 APPENDIX. il! ■Mr!! with people in England, took me to her splendid home, a few miles from London. At her residence I was intro- duced to a young French gentleman, a member of the Evangelical protestant church in France, and a descend- ant of the pious persecuted Huguenots. This gentleman speaks good English and Italian, haviiig enjoyed the priv- ilege of a superior education. His fervent prayers at the family altar morning and evening made r. very deep im- pression on my mind. He became deeply interested in my history, and offered to take me to France, after I should become his lawful wife. Though I did not like the idea of choosing another popish country, for my residence, yet as my friend assured me that I should enjoy my protestant religion unmolested, I gave him my hand and my heart My lady fellow pas- iB^ger was my bridesmaid. We were married by a good protestant minister. My husband is a wealthy merchant — gives me means and opportunities for doing good. Home is precious in a foreign land. Our home is one of piety and peace and happiness. The blessed Bible is read by us every day. Morning and evening we sing God's praise, and call upon the nujae of the Lord. Our prayer is that God may deliver beloved France and Italy from the curse of popery." Another proof of the persecuting spirit of Rome is fur- nished by the ** Narrative of Raffaele Ciocci, formerly a Benedictine Monk, but who now * comes forth from Inqui- sitorial search and torture, and tells us what he has seen, heard and felt.' " We can make but a few extracts from this interesting little volume, published by the American arid Foreign Christian Union, who, — to use their own language — ''send it forth as a voice of instruction and w&ming to the American people. Let the facts be heard APPENDIX. 829 and read. They are not to be set aside by an apology for the dark ages, nor an appeal to the refinement of the nineteenth century. Here is Borne, not as she wtu in the midnight of the world, but as she i$ at the present mo- ment There is the same opposition to private judgment •^ the same coercive measures •— the same cruel persecu- tion — the same efforts to crush the civil and religious lib- erties of her own subjects, for which she has ever been characterized." Ciooci, compelled at an early age to enter the Catholic College-— forced, notwithstanding his deep disgust and earnest remonstrance, to become a monk— imprisoned-* deceived-— the victim of priestly artifice and fraud, at length becomes a Christian. He is of course thrown into a deeper dungeon^ and more exquisite anguish inflicted upon him that he may be constrained to return to the Romish faith. Of his imprisonment he says, ** We trav- ersed long corridors till we arrived at the door of aa apartment which they requested me to enter, and they themselves retired. On opening the door I found myself in a close dark room, barely large enough for the little furniture it contained, which consisted of a small hard bed, hard as the conscience of an inquisitor, a little table cut all over, and a dirty ill-used chair. The window which was shut and barred with iron resisted all my efforts to open it My heart sunk within me, and I began to co^tate on the destiny in store for me." The Jesuit Giuliani entering his room, he asked that the window might be opened for the admission of light and air. Before the words were finished he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, << How I wretched youth, thou complainest of the dark, wiilst thou art living in the clouds of error? 28* W'l J fwmt fill 1 f. . i : » : .,'1 'J* tU ii< si 'r I: 330 APPENDIX. Dost (liou desire the light of heaven, while thoU rcjoctcst the li;;htof the Catholic faith?" Ciocci saw that remonstrance was useless, but h(> remiiuled his jailer that he had been sent there for three days, to receive instruction, not to be treated as a criminal. " For three days," he resumed, couoterfeiting my tone of voice, ** for three days! That would be nothing. The dainty youth will not forsooth, be roughly treated ; it re- mains to be seen whether he desires to be courteously entertained. Be converted, be converted, condemned soul I Fortunate is it for thee that thou art come to this place. Thou vnU never quit it excepting with the real fruits of repentance ! Among these silent shades canst thou meditate at thy leisure upon the deplorable state into which thou hast fallen. Woe unto thee, if thou refueest to listen to the voice of God, who conducts souls into solitude that he may speak with them." '< So saying," he continues, " he abruptly left me. I remained alone drooping under the weight of a misfortune, which was the more severe, be- cause totally unexpected. I stood, I know not how long, in the same position, but on recovering from this lethargy, my first idea was of flight. But this thought was at once aban- doned. There was no possibility of flight. Without giv- ing a minute account of the manner in which I passed my wearisome days and nights in this prison, let it suffice to say that they were spent in listening to sermons preached to me four times a day by the fathers Giuliani and Bos- sini, and in the most gloomy reflections. ^ In the mean time the miseries I endured were aggra- vated by the heat of the season, the wretchedness of the chamber, scantiness of food, and the rough severity of those by whom I was occasionally visited. Uncertainty AfPRNDTX. 83t e ihoU rcjoctcfit as to when this imprisonment would be at an end, almost drove me wild, and the first words I addressed to those who approached me were, ' Have the kindness to tell me when I shall be permitted to leave this place ? ' One replied, ' My son, think of hell.' I interrogated another; the answer was, * Think my son, how terrible is the death of the sinner ! ' I spoke to a third, to a fourth, and one said to me, * My son, what will be your feeling, if, on the day of judgment you find yourself on the left hand of God ? ' the other, * Paradise, my son. Paradise ! ' No one gave me a direct answer ; their object appeared to be to mistify and confound me. After the first few days, I began to feel most severely the want of a change of clothing, -li^^stomed to cleanliness, I found myself con- strained to wear soiled apparel. * * * For the want of a comb, my hair became rough and entangled. Afler the fourth day my portion of food was diminisired ; a sign, that they were pressing the siege, that it was their inten- tion to adopt both assault and blockade — to conquer me by arms, or induce me to capitulate ' through hunger. I had been shut up in this wretched place for thirteen days, when, one day, about noon, the Father Mislei, the author of all my misery, entered my cell. " At the sight of this man, resentment overcame every other consideration, and I advanced towards him fully prepared to indulge my feelings, when he, with his usual smile, expressed in bland words his deep regret at having been the cause of my long detention in this retreat. * Never could I have supposed,' said he,* that my anxiety for the salvation of your soul would have brought you into so much tribulation. But rest assured the fault is not entirely mine. You have yourself, in a great degree, by your useless obstinacy, been the cause of your sufferings. 332 APPENDIX. Ah, well, we will yet remedy all.' Not feeling any confi- dence in his assurance, I burst out into bitter invectives and fierce words. He then renewed his protestations, and clothed them with such a semblance of honesty and truth, that when he ended with this tender conclusion, * Be as- sured, my son, that I love you,' my anger vanished. * * * I lost sight of the Jesuit, and thought t was addressing a man, a being ci4)able of sympathising in the distresses of others. * Ah, well, father,' said I, * I need some one on whom I can rely, some one towards ilhom I can feel kindly ; I will therefore place confidence in your words.' " After some further conversation, Ciocci was asked if he wished to leave that place. " If I desire it 1 " he replied, ** what a strange question I You might as well ask a con- demned soul whether he desires to escape from hell 1 " At these words the Jesuit started like a goaded animal, and, forgetting his mission of deceiver, with knit brows and compressed lips, he allowed his ferocious soul for one moment to appear ; but, having grown old in deceit, he immediately had the circumspection to give this move- ment of rage the appearance of religious teal, and ex- claimed, "What comparisons are these? Are you not ashamed to assume the language of the Atheist? By speaking in this way you clearly manifest how little you deserve to leave this place. But since I have told you that I love you, I will give you a proof of it b/ thinking no more of those irreligious expressions ; they shall be forgotten as though they had never been spoken. Well, the Cardinal proposes to you an easy way of returning to your monastery." <* What does be propose? " ^ Here is the way," said he, presenting me with a paper : " copy this with your own hand ; nothing more will be required of you." ^ I took the paper with convulsive eagerness. It APPENDIX. S33 was a recantation of my faith, there condemned as errone- ous. • • • • Upon reading this, I shuddered, and, starting to my feet, in a solemn attitude and with a firm voice, exclaimed, ' Kill me, if you please ; my life is in your power ; but never will I subscribe to that iniquitous formulary.' The Jesuit, after laboring in vain to persuade me to his wishes, went away in anger. I now momenta- rily expected to be conducted to the torture. Whenever I was taken fVom my room to the chapel, I feared lest some trap-door should open beneath my feet, and therefore took great care to tread in the footsteps of the Jesuit who preceded me. No one acquainted with the Inquisition will say that my precaution was needless. My imagina- tion was so filled with the horrors of this place, that even in my short, interrupted, and feverish dreams I beheld dag- gers and axes glittering around me ; I heard the noise of wheels, saw burning piles and heated irons, and woke in convulsive terror, onl^ to give myself up to gloomy reflec- tions, inspired by the reality of my situation, and the im- pressions lefl by these nocturnal visions. What tears did I shed in those dreary moments I How innumerable were the bitter wounds that lacerated my heart I My prayers seemed to me unworthy to be received by a God of charity, because, notwithstanding all my efforts to banish from vy soul every feeling of resentment towards my persecutors, hatred returned with redoubled power. I oflen repeated the words of Christ, * Father, forgive them, they know not what they do ; * but immediately a voice wculd answer* * This prayer is not intended for the Jesuits ; they resem- ble not the crucifiers, who were blind instruments of the rage of the Jews ; while these men are fully conscious of what they are doing; they are the modem Pharisees.* The reading of the Bible would have afforded me great consolation, but this was denied me." • • * ♦ ! <3!i ■( 't( 334 APPENDIX. M:^n 'I V 'I'j The fourteenth day of hia imprisonment be was taken to the council to hear his sentenee, when he was again urged to sign the fi>rm <^ recantation. But he refused. The Father Rossini then spoke : ** You are decided ; let it be, then, as you deserve. Bebellious eon of the church, in the fuUness of the power which she has received from Christ, you shall feel the holy rigor of be** laws. She cannot permit tares to grow with the good seed* She cannot suffer you to remain among her sons and become the stumbling-block for the ruin of many. Abandon, therefore, all hope of leaving this place, and of returning to dwell among the faithful. JKhoWy all is ^wished for you!" For the conclusion of this narrative we refer the reader to the volume itself. If any more evidence were needed to show that the spirit of Bomanism is the same to-day that it has ever been, we find it in the account of a legal prosecution against ten Christians at Beldac, in France, for holding and attending a public worship not licensed by the civil authority. They had made repeated, respectful, and earnest applications to the prefect of the department of Ilaute-Vienne for the authorization required by law, and which, in their case, ought to have been given. It was flatly refused. They persisted in rendering to God that worship which his own command and their consciences required. For this they were arraigned as above stated, on the 10th of August, 1855. On the 26th of January, 1856, the case was decided by the " tribunal," and the three pastors and one lady, a schoolmistress, were con- demned to pay a fine of one thousand francs each, and some of the others five hundred francs each, the whole amount, together with legal expeoditures, exceeding the sum of nine thousand francs. APPmDiX* 335 M^mtSme, the oonirerts continue to hold their wotship^ meetings in the woods, bftnis, and secret places, in order not to be surprised by the police conunissioner, and to avoid new cffidal reports. *Thu8, yea see,** says V. tte Pressense, in a letter to Hie ^American and Poreign Christian Union/ <ket, struck a spring, and the marble slab flew up. Then the faces of the inquisitors grew pale as Bel- shazzar when the hand writing appeared on the wall ; they trembled all over; beneath the marble slab, now partly up, there was a stair-case. I stepped to the altar, and took from the candlestick one of the candles four feet in length, which was burning that 1 might explore the room below. As I was doing this, I was arrested by one of the inquisitors, who laid his hand gently on my arm, ■ and with a Very demure and holy look said *^ My son, you must not take those lights with your bloody hands they are holy.'* "^^Well," said^ I, «I will take a holy thing to shed light on iniquity ; I will bear the responsibility/* I took the candle, and proceeded down the stair-case. As we reached the foot of the stairs we entered a large room which was called the hall of judgment In the centre of it was a large block, and a chain fastened to it. On this they were accustomed to place the accused, chained to his seat. On one side of the room was an elevated seat called the Throne of Judgment. This, the Inquisitor General occupied, and on either side were seats less elevated, for the holy fathers when engaged in the solemn business of the Holy Inquisition. From this room we proceeded to the right, and obtained access to small cells extending the entire length of the edL.je ; and here such sights were presrated as we hoped % tni ; M '« ii,'^:" *:i ( i. m, \: 340 APrENDTX. never to sec again^ These cells vmre places of solitary confinement, ^nrhere the wretcIieJ objects of inquisitorial hate were confined year after yt ir, till death released them from their sufierings, a-vl their bodies were suffered to remain until they were entirely decayed, arsd tho rooms had become fit for others to occupy. Tc preverifc this beinaj offensive to those who occupied Hie Inquisition, there were flues or tubes extending to the open air, suffi- cieiitly capacious to carry off the odor. In these <'clls vc Ibimd the remains of some who had paid the debt of nature : some of them had been dead apparent!)' but a short time, wh.'a of others nothing remained but their bones, still chained to ths floor uf their dungeon. * In others we fouiXi living sufferers of both sexes and of ev^ry age,, froaa three score years and ten down to four- teen or fifteen years — all naked as they were bom into the world ! And all in chains I Here were old men ;md aged women, who had been shut up for many yeai>s. Here, too, were the middle aged, and the young man and the maiden of fourteen years old. The soldiers immedi- fitely went to work to release the captives from their chains, and took from their knapsacks their overcoats and other clothing, which they gave to cover their nakedness. They were exceedingly anxious to bring them out to the light of day ; but Col. L., aware of the danger, had food given them, and then brought them gradually to the light, as they were able to bear it. We then proceeded, said Col. L., to explore another room on the left;. Here we found the instruments of torture, of every kind which the ingenuity of men or devils could invent. Col. L., here described four -of these horrid instruments. The first was a machine by which the victim was confined, and then, beginning with the fin- APPENDIX. 341 gers, every joint in the Lands, arms and bocond was a box, in which the head and neck of tlie vic- f^.M were so closely confined by a screw that ho could not vn\r e in any way. Over the box was a vessel, from which one drop of water a second, fell upon the head of the vic- tim ; — every successive drop falling upon precisely the same place on the head, suspended the circulation in a few moments, and put the sufferer in the most excruciating agony. The third was an infernal machine, laid horizon- t4illy, to which the victim was bound ; the machine then being placed between two beams, in which were scores of knives so fixed that, by turning the machine with a crank, the flesh of the sufferer was torn from his limbs, all in small pieces. The fourth surpassed the others in fiendish ingenuity. Its exterior was a beautiful woman, or large doll, richly dressed, with arms extended, ready < to embrace its victioL Around her feet a semi-circle was drawn. The victim who passed over this fatal marie, touched a spring which caused the diabolical engme to, open; its arms clasped him, and a thousand knives cut him into as many pieces in the deadly embrace. Col. L., said that the sight of these engines of infernal cruelty kindled the rage of the soldiers to fury. They declared that every inquisitor and soldier of the inquisition should be put to tho torture. Their rage was ungovernable. Col. L., did not oppose them. They might have turned their arms against him if he had attempted to arrest their work. They began with the holy fathers. The first they put to death in the machine for breaking jointe. The torture of the inquisitor put to death by the dropPl^g of water on his head was most excruciating. The poor man cried out in agony to be taken from the fatal machine. The inquis* 89* im. 342 APPENDIX. 'J I itor general ivas brought before the infernal engine called « The Virgin." He begged to be excused. " No " said they, " you have caused others to kiss her, and now you must do it."" They interlocked their bayonets so as to form large forks, and with these pushed him over the deadly circle. The beautiful image instantly prepared for the embrace, clasped him in its arms, and he was cut into innumerable pieces. Col. L. said, &e witnessed the tor- ture of four of them — his heart sickened at the awful scene— • and he left the soldiers to wreak their vengeance on the last guilty inmate of that prison-house of bell. In the mean time it was reported through Madrid that the prisons of the Inquisition were broken open, and mul- titudes hastened to the fatal spot. And, Oh, what a meet- ing was there! It was like a resurrection I About a hundred who had been buried for many years were now restored to life. There were fathers who had found their long lost daughters; wives were restored to their hus- bands, sisters to their brothers, parents to their children ; and there were some who could recognize no friend among the multitude* The scene was such as no tongue can describe. When the multitude had retired. Col. L. caused the library, paintings, furniture, etc, to be removed, and hav- ing sent to the city for a wagon load of powder^ he deposi- ted a large quantity in the vaults beneath the building, and placed a slow match in connection with it. All had withdrawn to a distance, and in a few moments there was a most joyful sight to thousands. The walls and turrets of the massive sgjucture rose majestically towards the heavens, impeUe^HDy the tremendous explosion, and fell back to the earth an immense heap of ruins. The Inqui- sition was no more ! ** APPENDIX. 843 Such is the account given by Col. Lehmanowsky of the destruction of the inquisition in Spain. Was it then finally destroyed, never again to be revived ? Listen to the testimony of the Rev. Giacinto Achilli, J). D. Surely, his statements in this respect' can be relied upon, for he is himself a convert from Bomanism, and was formerly the *< Head Professor of Theology, and Vicar of the Master of the Sacred Apostolic Palace." He certainly had every opportunity to obtain correct -< information on the subject, and in a book published by him in 1851, entitled V Dealings with the Inquisition," we find, (page 71) the following staitling announcement. "We are now in the middle of the nineteenth century, end still the Inquisition is actually and potentially in existence. This disgrace to humanity, whose entire history is a mass '<*of atrocious crim' s, committed by the priests of the Church of Some, in the name of Grod and of His Christ, whose vicar and representative, the pope, the head of the Inquisition, declares himself to be, — this abominable insti- tution is still in existence in Rome and in the Roman States." Again, (page 89) he says, " And this most infamous Inquisition, a- hundred times destroyed and* as often renewed, still exists in Rome as in the barbarous ages ; the only difference b^ing that the same iniquities are at present practiced there with a little more secrecy and cau- tion than formerly, and this for the sake of prudence, that the Holy See may not be subjected to the animadversions of the world at large." . - On page 82 of the same work ira find the following language. " I do not propose to myself to speak of the Inquisition of times past, but of what exists in Rome at the present moment; I shall therefore assert that the laws 844 ▲PPBMDIZ. >^«-.x of thii inntitution being in no respect changed, neither can the institution itself be said tto have undergone any alteration. The present race of priests who are now in power are too much afraid of the popular indignation to let loose all their inquisitorial fury, which might even occa- lion a revolt if they were not to restrain it ; the whole world, moreover, would cry out against them, a crusade would be raised against the Inquisition, and, for a little temporary gratification, much power would be endangered. This is the true reason why the severity of its penalties is in some degree relaxed at the present time, but they still remain unaltered in its code." Again on page 102, he says, ** Ai9 the torments which are employed at -the present day at the Inquisi- tion all a fiction? It requires the impudence of an inquisitor, or of the Archbishop of Westminister to deny their existence. I have myself heard these evil-minded persons lament and complain that their victims were treated with too much lenity. " What is it yoa desire?" I inquired of the inquisitor of Spoleto. "That which St. Thomas Aquinas says," an- swered he ; ** death to aU the hereHe$,** ** Hand over, then, to one of these people, a person, how- ever respectable; give him up to one of the inquisitors, (he who quoted St Thomas Aquinas to me was made an Archbishop) — give up, I say, the present Archbishop of Canterbury, an amiable and pious man, to one of these rabid inquisitors; he must either deny his faith or be burned alive. Is my statement false ? Am I doting ? Is not this the spirit that invariably actuates the inquisitors ? and not the inquisitors only, but all those who in any way defile themselves with the inquisition, such as bishops and their vicars, and all those who defend it, as the papists do. APPENDIX. 345 There is the renowned Dr. Wiseman, the Archbishop of Westminster according to the pope's creation, the same who has hod the assurance to censure me from his pulpit, and to publish an infamous article in the Duhiin Review^ in which he has raked together, as on a dunghill, every species of filth from the sons of Ignatius Loyola; and there is no lie or calumny that he has not made use of against me. Well, then, suppose I were to be handed over to the tender mercy of Dr. Wiseman, and he had the full power to dispose of me as he chose, without fear of losing his chai*actor in the eyes of the nation to which, by parentage more than by merit, he belongs, what do you imagine he would do with me? Should I not have to undergo some death more terrible than ordinary ? Would not a council be held with the reverend fathers of the com- pany of Loyola, the same who have suggested the abomin- able calumnies above alluded to, in order to invent some refined method of putting me out of the world ? I feel persuaded that if I were condemned by the Inquisition to be burned alive, my calumniator would have great pleasure in building my funeral pile, and setting fire to it with his own hanSs ; or should strangulation be preferred, that he would, with equal readiness, arrange the cord around my neck ; and all for the honor and glory of the Inquisition, of which, according to his oath, he is a true and faithful servant." This, then, according to Dr. Achilli is the spirit of Ro- manism ! Can we doubt that it would lead to results as frightful as anything described in the foregoing story ? But let us listen to his further remarks on the present state of the Inquisition. On page 75 he says, « What, then, is the Inquisition of the nineteenth century ? The same system of intolerance which prevailed in the barbar^ '• 846 APPKNDIX. ii.lT ons ages. That which raised the Crusade and roused all Europe to arms at the voice of a monk * and of a hennit.t That which— in the name of a God of peace, manifested on earth by Christ, who, through love for sinners, gave himself to be crucified — brought shvpghtf^r on the Albi- genses and the Waldenses ; filled France with desolation, under Domenico di Guzman ; raised in Spain the funeral pile and the scaffold, devastating the fair kingdoms of Gnu nada and Castile, through the assistance of those detestable monks, Raimond de Pennefort, Peter Arbues, and Cardi- nal Forquemorda. That, which, to its eternal infamy, registers in the annals of France the fatal 24th of August, and the 5th of November in those of England. That same system which at this moment flourishes at Rome, which has never yet been either worn out or modi- fied, and which at this present time, in the jargon of the priests, is called ** the holy, Roman, universal, apostolic Inquisition. Holy, as the place where Christ was cruci- fied is holy ; apostolic, because Judas Iscariot was the first inquisitor ; Roman and universal, because from Borne it extends over aU the world. It is denied by some that the Inquisition which exists in Rome as its centre, is extended throughout the world by means of the missionaries. The Roman Inquisition and the Roman Propaganda are in close connection with each other. Every bishop who is sent in partibus infidelium, is an inquisitor charged to dis- cover, through the means of his missionaries, whatever is said or done by others in reference to R(»ne, with the obligation to make his report secretly. The Apostolic nuncios are all inquisitors, as are also the Apostolic vicars. Here, then, we see the Roman Inquisition extending to the most remote countries." Again this sam^ writer informs * Bernard of Chiaravalle. t Peter the Hermit. m APPBKDIX. 847 us, (page 112,) that ** the principal object of the Ihquisition ifl to possess themselves, by every means in their power, of the secrets of every class of society. Consequently ita agents (Jesuits and Missionaries,) enter the domestic cir- cle, observe every motion, listen to every conversation, and would, if possible, become acquainted with the most hidden thoughts. It is in fact, the police, not only of Rome, but of all Italy ; indeedt it may he »aid of the whole world** The above statements of Dr. Achilli are fully corrobo- rated by the Rev. Wm. H. Rule, of London. In a book published by him in 1852, entitled "The Brand of Domi- nic," we find the following remarks in relation to the Inqui- sition of the present time. " The R(»nan Inquisition ia, therefore, acknowledged to have an infinite multitude of affairs constantly on hand, which necessitates its assem- blage thrice every week. Still there are criminals, and criminal processes. The body of officials are still main- tained on established revenues of the holy office. So far from any mitigation of severity or judicial improvement in the spirit of its administration, the criBunal has now no choice of an advocate ; but (me person, and he a servant of the Inquisition, performs an idle ceremony, under the name of advocacy, for the oonvicticm of all. And let the reader mark, that as there are bishops in partihUf so, ia like manner, there are inquisitors of the same dass ap- pointed in every country, and chiefly in Great Britain and the colonies, who are sworn to secrecy, and of course com- municate intelligence to this sacred congregation of all that can be conceived capable of comprehension within the infinitude of its affairs. We must, therefore, either believe that the court of Rome is not in earnest) and that thia apparfittts of universal jurisdiction ia but a shadow, — an assumption which is contrary to all experience,-— or we ^h'', , i'^j ; liriil •ill ^f m k'^ 348 APPENDIX. must understand that the spies and familiars of the Inqui- •sition are listening at our doors, and intruding themselves on our hearths. How they proceed, and what their bre- thren at Rome are doing, events may tell ; but we may be sure they are not idle. They were not idle in Rome in 182^, when they rebuilt the prisons of the Inquisition. They were not idle in 1842, when they imprisoned Dr. Achilli for heresy, as he assures us ; nor was the captain, or some other of the subalterns, who, acting in their name, took his watch from him as he came out. They were not idle in 1843, when they renewed the old edicts against the Jews. And all the world knows that the inquisitors on their stations throughout the ponti- fical states, and the inquisitorial agents in Italy, Grermany, and Eastern Europe, were never more active than during the last four years, and even at this moment, when every political misdemeanor that is deemed offensive to the Pope, is, constructively, a sin against the Inquisition, and visited with punishment accordingly. A deliberative body^ hold- ing formal session! thrice every week, cannot be idle, and although it may please them to deny that Dr. Achilli saw and examined a black book, containing the praxis now in use, the criminal code of inquisitors in force at this day, — as Archibald Bower had an abstract of such a book given hTm for his use about one hundred and thirty years ago, — they cannot couvince me that I have not seen and handled, and used in the preparation of this volume, the compendium of an unpublished Roman code of inquisitorial regulations, given to the vicars of the inquiditor-general of Modena. They may be pleased to say that the mordaccjiia, or gag, f which Dr. Achilli speaks, as mentioned in that Black Book, is no longer used ; but that it is mentioned there, and might be used agam is more than credible to ■m APPENDIX. 349 myself, after having seen that the ^sacred congregation" has fixed a rate of fees for the ordering, witnessing, and administration of torture. There was indeed, a talk of abolishing torture at Rome ; but we have reason to believe that the congregation will not drop the mordacchta, inas- much, as, instead of notifying any such reformation to the courts of Europe, this congregation has kept silence. For although a continuation of the bullary has just been pub- lished at Rome, containing several decrees of this congre- gation, there is not one that announces a fulfilment of this illusory promise, — a promise imagined by a'ccr:.'espondent to F««nch newspapers, but never given by the inquisitors « themselves. And as there is no proof that they have yet abstained from torture, there is a large amount of circum- stantial evidence that they have delighted themselves in death. And why not ? When public burnings became inexpedient — as at Goa — 'did they not make provision for private executions ? For a third time at least the Roman prisons — I am not speaking of those of the provinces — were broken open, in 1849, after the desertion of Pius IX., and two prisoners were found there, an aged bishop and a nun. Many persons in Rome reported the event ; but instead of copying what is already 1)efore the public, I translate a letter addressed to me by P. Alessandro Gavazzi, late chaplain-general of the Roman army, in reply to a few questions which I had put to him. All who have heard his statements may judge whether his account 'of facts be not marked with every note of accuracy. Tfcey will believe thdt his power of oratory does not betray him into random declamation. Under date of March 20th, 1852, he writes thus : 30 ■•■";;lfk iiiti ;,',:■■ 'if 'm I' 350 APPBIIPIZ. TVMW » . 'wli A • *^ ^^ < place, or of such a kind, as to be of service to them. Ever3rthing, on the contrary, combines to persuade me that it was made use of for hcurible deaths, and to consume the remains of the victims of inquisitorial executions. Another object of horror I found between the great hall of judgment and the luxurious apartment of the chief jailer (primo cttstode), the Dominican friar * " The gag, the thumb-screw, and many other instruments of severe torture could be easily destroyed and others as easily pro- cured. The non-appearance of installments is not enough to sustain the current belief that the use of them is discontiu:-ed. So long as there is a necret prison, and while all the existing fl^ndards of in- quisitorial practice make torture an ordinary expedient for extorting information, not even a bull, prohibiting torture, would be sufficient to convince the world that it has been discontinued. The practice of falsehood is enjoined on inquisitors. How, tfion, could we believe a bull, or decree, if it were put forth to-morrow, to release them from suspicion, or to screen them from obloquy 1 It would not be en- titled to belief." — Rev. Wm. H. Rule. # APPENDIX. 351 who presides over this diabolical establishment. This was a deep trap or shaft opening into the vaults under the Inquisition. As soon as the so-called criminal had con- fessed his offence, the second keeper, who is always a Do- minican friar, sent him to the father commissary to receive a relaxation* of his punishment. With the hope of par- don, the confessed culprit would go towards the apartment of the holy inquisitor ; but in the act of setting foot at its entrance, the trap opened, and the world of the living heard no more of him. I examined some of the earth found in the pit below this trap ; it was a composit of com- mon earth, rottenness, ashes, and human hair, fetid to th'e smell, and horrible to the sight and to the thought of the beholder. " But where popular fury reached its highest pitch was m the vaults of St. Pius V. I am anxious that you should note well that this pope was canonized by the Roman church especially for his zeal against heretics. I will now describe to you the manner how, and the place where, those vicars of Jesus Clirist handled the living members of Jesus Chri?i, and show you how they proceeded for their healing. You descend into the vaults by verj^ nar- row stairs. A narrow corridor leads you to the seveftil cells, which, for smallness and stench, are a hundred lioes- more horrible than the dens of lions and tigers in the Colossem. "Wandering in this labyrinth of most frnrful prisons, that may be called * graves for the living,* I came to a cell full of skeletons without skulls, buried in lime, * " In Spain, relaxation is delircry to death. In*lhe established style of the Inqniflition it has the same meaning. Bat in the'com- mon language of Rom' < it means release. In tlie lips of the inquis- itor, therefore, if he used the word, it has one moaning, and another to the ear of the prisoner." --iZcv. Wm. H. Rule. l-> 'lli-i:; ii ^/fi 352 APPENDIX. and the skulls, detached from the bodies, had been col- lected in a hamper by the first vistors. Whose were those skeletons ? and why were they buried in that place and in that manner ? I have heard some popish priests trying to defend the Inquisition from the charge of having condemned its victims to a secret death, say that the pal- ace of the Inquisition was built on a burial-ground, be- longing anciently to a hospital for pilgrims, and that the skelecons found were none other than those of pilgrims who had died in that hospital. But everything contradicts this papistical defence. Suppose that there had been a cemetery there, it could not have had subterranean galler- ies and cells, laid out with so great regularity ; and even if there had been such — against all probability — the remains of bodies would have been removed on laying the foundation of the palace, to leave the space free for the subterranean part of the Inquisition. Besides, it is con- trary to the use of common tombs U) bury the dead by carrying them through a door at the side ; for the mouth of the sepulchre is always at the top. And again, it has never been the custom in Italy to bury the dead singly in quick lime ; but, in time of plague, the dead bodies have been usually laid in a grave until it was sufficiently full, .and then quick lime has been laid over them, to prevent pestilential exhalations, by hastening the decomposition of the infected corpses. This custom was continued, some years ago,, in the cemeteries of Naples, and especially in the daily bjjrial of the poor. Therefore, the skeletons found in the Inquisition of Rome could not belong to per- sons who had died a natural death in a hospital; nor could any one, under such a supposition, explain the mys- tery of all the bodies being buried in lime except the head. It remains, then, beyond a doubt, that that subterranean APPENDIX. 353 vault contained the victims of one of the many secret martyr- doms of the butcherly tribunal. The following is the most probable opinion, if it be not rather the history of a fact : " The condemned were immersed in a bath of slaked lime, gradually fill'»d up to their necks. The lime by little and little enclosed the sufferers, or walled them up alive. The torment was extreme but slow. As the lin.'^ rose higher and higher, the respiration became more and more painful, bemuse more difficult. So that what with the suffocation of the smoke, and the anguish of the compressed breathing, they died in a manner most hor- rible and desperate. Some time after their death the heads would naturally separate from the bodies, and roll away into the hollows made by the shrinking of the lime. Any other explanation of the fact that may be attempted will be found improbable and unnatural. Tou may make what use you please of these notes of mine, since I can warrant their truth. I wish that writers, speaking of this infamous tribunal of the Inquisition, would derive their information from pure history, unmingled with romance ; for so great and so many the historical atrocities of the Inquisition, that they would more than suffice to arouse the detestation of a thousand worlds. I know that the popish impostor-priests go about saying that the Inquisi- tion was never an ecclesiastical tribunal, but a laic. But you will have shown the contrary in your work, and may also add, in order quite to unmask these lying preachers, that the palace of the Inquisition at Rome is under the shadow of the palace of the Vatican; that the keepers are to this day, Dominican friars ; and that the prefect of the Inquisition at Rome is the Pope in person. " I have the honor to be your affectionate Servant, ALESSAMDitA GaVAZTII." 30# ■jjiii 354 APPENDIX. :-ff?.^ J. m ]: '1' : ,M I *' The Roman parliament decreed the erection of a pil- lai opposite the palace of the Inquisition, to perpetuate the memory of the destruction of that nest of abomina- tions ; but before that or any other monument could be raised, the French army besieged and took the city, re- stored the Pope, and with him the tribunal of the faith. Not only was Dr. Achilli thrown into one of its old pris- ons, on the 29th of July 1849, but the violence of the people having made the building less adequate to tbe pur- pose of safe keeping, he was transferred to the castle of St. Angelo, which had often been employed for the custody of similar delinquents, and there he lay in close confine- n.ciit until the 9th of January, 1850, when the French authorities, yielding to influential representations from this country assisted him to escape in disguise as a soldier, thus removing an occasion of scandal, but carefully leav- ing the authority of the congregation of cardinals undis- puted. Indeed they first obtained the verbal sanction of the conmiissary, who saw it expedient to let his victim go, and hush an outcry. " Yet some have the hardihood to affirm that there is no longer any Inquisition ; and as the Inquisitors were in- structed to suppress the truth, to deny their knowledge of cases actually passing through their hands, and to fabri- cate falsehoods for the sake of preserving the secret, be- cause the secret was absolutely necessary to the preser- vation of their office, so do the Inquisitors in partibus falsify and illude without the least scruple of conscience, in order to put the people of this country off their guard. " That the Inquisition really exists, is placed beyond a doubt by its daily action as a visible institution at Rome. But if any one should fancy that it was abolished after the release of Dr. Achilli, let him hear a sentence contra- APPENDIX. 355 dictory, from a bull of the Pope himself, Pius IX, a docu- ment that was dated at Rome, August 22, 1851, where the pontiff, condemning the works of Professor Nuytz, of Turin, says, " after having taic&ii the advice of the doctors in theology and canon law, after having collected the suffrages of our venerable brothers the cardinals of the congregation of the supreme and universal Inqui- sition." And so recently as March, 1852, by letters of the Secretariate of State, he appointed four cardinals to be " members of the Sacred Congregation of the Holy Boman and Universal Inquisition;" giving incontro- vertible evidence that provision is made for attending to communications of Inquisitors in partibus from all parts of the world. As the old cardinals die off, their vacant seats are filled by Olivers. The * immortal legion' is punctually recruited. " After all, have we in Great Britain, Ireland and the colonies, and our brethren of the foreign mission stations, any reason to apprehend harm to, ourselves from the Inquisitiun as it is ? . In r^ly to this question, let it be observed ; 1 . That there are Inquisitors in partibus is not to be denied. That letters of these Inquisitors are laid before the Roman Inqu'sition is equally certain. Even in the time of Leo XII, when the church of Roiae was far less active in the British empire than it is now, ^ome particular case was always decided on Tluirsday, when the Pope, in his character of universal Inquisitor, presided in the congregation. It cannot be thought that now, in the height of its exultation, daring and aggression, this congregation has fewer emissaries, or that they are less active, or less communicative than they were at that time. We also see that the number is constanly replenished. The cardinals Delia Genga-Sermatt*ii ; De Azevedo ; For- nari ; and Lucciardi liave just been »d<\fd to it 350 APPENDIX. bUj it;. 2. Besides a cardinal in England, and a delegate in Ireland, there is both in England and Ireland, a body of bishops, ' natural Inquisitors,' as they are always acknowl- edged, and have often claimed to be ; and these natural Inquisitors are all sworn to keep the secret — the soul of the Inquisition. Since, then, there are Inquisitors in pat' tibus, appointed to supply the lack of an avowed and stationary Inquisition, and since the bishops are the very persons whom the court of Bome can best command, as pledged for such a service, it is reasonaulu to suppose they act in that capacity. 3. Some of the proceedings of these bishops confirm the assurance that there is now an Inquisition in activity in England. * • • * The vigilance exercised over families, also the intermeddling of priests with education, both in families and schools, and with the innumerable relations of civil society, can only be traced back to the Inquisitors in partihu, whose peculiar duty, whether by help of confessors or familiars^ is to worm out every secret of affairs, private or public, and to organize and conduct measures of repression or of punishment. Where the secular arm cannot be borrowed, and where offenders lie beyond the reach of excommunication, irregular methods must be resorted to, not rejecting any as too crafty or too violent Discontented mobs, or individual zealots are to be found or bought. What part the Inquisitors in parti- bug play in Irish assasinations, or in the general mass of murderous assaults that is perpetrated in the lower haunts of crime, it is impossible to say. Under cover of confes* sional and Inquisitorifxl secrets, spreads a broad field of action— 4a region of n ystery— only visible to the eye of God, and to those 'most reverend and most eminent' guardians of the papacy, who sit thrice every week, in APPENDIX. 357 the Minerva and Vatican, and there manage the hidden springs of Inquisition on the heretics, sclii^nuUics, and rebels, no less than on 'the faithfur of realms. Wiio can calculate the extent of their power over those < religious houses/ where so many of the inmates are hut neophytes, unfitted by British education for the intellect- ual and moral abnegation, the surrender of mind and con- science, which monastic discipline exacts ? Yet, they must be coerced into submission, and kept under penal disci- pline. Who can tell bow many of their own clergy are withdrawn to Rome, and there delated, imprisoned, and left to perish, if not 'relaxed' to death, in punishment of heretical opinions or liberal practices ? We have heard of laymen, too, taken to Rome by force, or decoyed thither under false pretences there to be punished by the universal Inquisition ; and whatever of incredibility may appear in some tales of Inquisitorial abduction, the gen- eral fact that such abductions have taken place, seems to be incontrovertible. And now that the Inquisitors in par- tihus are distributed over Christendom, and that they provide the Roman Inquisition with daily work from year's end to year's end, is among the things most certain, — even the most careless of Englishmen must acknowl- edge that we have all reason to apprehend much evil from the Inquisition as it is. And no christian can be aware of this fact, without feeling himself more than ever bound to uphold the cause of Christianity, both at home ind abroad, as the only counteractive of so dire a curse, and the only remedy of so vast an evil." Hev. Wm. Ride, London. The Rev. E. A. Lawrence, writing of " Romanism at Rome," gives us the following vivid description of the present state of the Roman Church. 358 APPENDIX. V ;i T- " Next is seen at Rome the Propaganda, tbe grc4t missionary heart of the whole masterly system. Noise- • lessly, by the multiform orders of monks and nuns, as through so many veins and arteries, it sends out and receives back its vital fluid. In its halls, the whole world is distinctly mapped out, and the chief points of influence minutely marked. A kind of telegraphic communication is established with the remotest stations in South Africa and Siberia, and with almost every nook in our own land, to which the myrmidons of- Papal power look with the most of fear. It is through means of this moral galvanic battery, set up in the Vatican, that the Church of Home has gained its power of uUquity — has so well nigh made itself omnipotent, as well as omnipresent. " It is no mean or puny antagonist that strides across tbe path of a frde r^piritual and advancing Protestantism. And yet, with f' sJTtiple shepherd's sling, and the smooth stones gathere he Asylum for the poor — a retreat for doubting and distressed pilgrims, where they may have experience of the parental kindness of their father the Pope, and th'3ir mother the church. *' Dr. Achilli had a trial of this beneficient discipline, when thrown into the deep dungeon of St. Angelo. And how many other poor victims of this diabolical institution are at this moment pining in agony, heaven knows. APPENDIX. 359 " In Arnt^rica, we talk about Rome as having ceased to persecute. Jf u a mistake. Slie holds to the principle as tenaciously as ever. She cannot dispense with it.. Of the evil spirit of Protestantism she says, "This kind goeth not out, but by fire." Her reign, is a reign ' 'error. Hence she must hold both the principle a wer of persecution, of compelling men to believ • r doubt, of pulling them to death for their ^ J. Take from her this power and she bites the dust." BOMANIS¥ m AMERICA. It may perchance be said that the i^mat'ks of the Rev. William Rule, quoted above, refer exclusively to the ex- isting state of things in England, Ireland, and the colo- nies. But who will dare to say, after a careful investiga- tion of the subject, that they do not apply with equal force to these United States ? Has America nothing to fear from the inquisitors — from the Jesuits ? Is it true that the '^ Inquisition srlU exists in Home — that its code is unchanged — that its emissaries are sent over ali ihe world ' — that every nuncio and bishop is an Inquisitor," and is it improbable that, even now, torture rooms like those described in the fore- going story, may be found in Roman Catholic establish- ments in this country ? Yes, even here, in Protestant, enlightened America! Have we then nothing to fear from Romanisin ? But a few days since a gentleman of learning and intelligence when speaking of this subject, exclaimed, " What have we to do with th» Jesuits ? and what is the Inquisition to us ? The idea that we have aught to fear from Romanism, is simply ridiculous ! " In reply to this, alk)W me to quote the language of the Rev. Manuel J. Gonsalves, leader of the Madeira Exiles. ^ ^i^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) "/ 1.0 1.1 liilM U2.S US «« -.0 111120 U& 1 \^ iU |l.6 ^ 6" > niOtogFEIfM: Sciences CorporatiGn 23 WIST MAIN STMIT WIBSTn,N.Y. MSM (71«)t73-4S03 > 360 APPENDIX. *' The time will come when the American people will arise as one man, and not only abolish the confessional, biit will follow the example of many of the European nations, who had no peace, or rest, till they banished the Jesuits. These are the men, who bask in the sunbeams of popery, to whom the pope has entrusted the vast inter- ests of the king of Rome, in this.great Bepublic. Nine tenths of the Romish priests, now working hard for their Master the pope, in this country, are full blooded Jesuits. The man of sin who is the head of the mystery of in- iquity — through the advice of the popish bishops now in this country, hxA selected the Jesuitical order of priests, to carry on Lis great and gigantic operations in the United States of America. Those Jesuits who distinguish themselves the most in the destruction of Protestant Bible religion, and who gain the largest number of protestant scholars for popish schools and Aeminaries; who win most American converts to their sect are offered great rewards in the sliape of high oflSces in the church. John Hughes, the Jesuit Bishop of the New JTork Romanists, was rewarded by Pope Pius 9th, with an Archbishop's mitre,' for his great^ zeal and success, in removing Grod's Holy Bible from thirty-eight public schools in New Tork, and ^ for procuring a papal school committee, to examine every book in the hands of American children in the public schools, that every passage of truth, in those books of history unpalatable to the pope might be blotted out'' Has America then nothing to do with Romanism ? But another gentleman exclaims, '< What if Romanism be on the increase in the United States I Is not their reli.^on as dear to thepi» as ours is to us ? " Td this the Rev. M. J. Gonsalves would reply as follows. "Hie American people have been deceived, in believing that APPENDIX. 361 Popery wot a reUgioHf not a very gooci one to be sure, but eome kind of one. This hiu been their great mistake. We might as well call the Arebbishop of the faUon angelsy and his crew, a religious bodj of intelligent beings* because they believe in an Almighty God, and tremble » as to call the man of sin and his Jesuits, a body of religp ious saints. The tree is known by its fruit, such as 'loye^ joy, peace, long suffering, gentleness, goodness, meeknecui, faith, temperance, brotherly kindness;' and where ^be spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty^ Christiwi liberty, giving to GU)d and man their due unasked* Now we aeb^ what kind of fruit does the tree of Popevy bear> in vsj country, that it should claim homage, And reapeo^ m ft goodreli^on?" Such is the language of one who kneir so well whAt popery was, that he fled item, it as from a hell upon earth. In his further remarks upon the horrors of convent life in the United States, he fiilly confirms the statements in the foregoing narrative. He says, ^ It is time that American gentlemen, who are so much occupied in business, should think of the dangers of the confessional, and the miseries endured by innocent, duped, American, imprisoned females in this free country; and remember that these Ameri^ can ladies who have been duped and enticed by Jesuit- ical intrigue and eraffc, into their female convents, have no means of deliverance ; they cannot write a letter to a fnend without the consent and inspection of the Mother Abbess, who is always and invariably a female tyrant, a creature in the pay of the Bishop, and depend^t upon the Bishop for her despotic office of power. The poor, unfortunate, imprisoned American female has no means of redress in her power. She cannot communicate her story of wrong and suflfering to any living being beyond the walls of her 81 362 APPENDIX. prison. She may have a father, a mother, a dear brother, or a sister, who, if they knew one-sixteenth parfc^'^f her wrongs and sufferings, would fly at once to see her and fi3rmpathize with her in her anguish. Bat the Jesuit con- fessor attached to the prisonr is ever on the alert Those ladies who appear the most unhappy, and unreconciled to their prison, are compelled to attend the confessional every day; and thus the artful Jesuit, by a thousand cutogb ques- tions, is made to understand perfectly the state of their minds. The Lady Pcnter, or door-keeper and jailor, is always a creature of the priest's, and a great favorite with Ihe Mother Abbess. Should any friends call to see an unhappy nnn who is utterly unreconciled to her fate, the Lady Porter is instructed to inform those relatives that the dear nun they want to see so much, is so perfectly hap- py, and ^ven up to heavenly meditations, that she cannot be persuaded to see an earthly relative. At the same time t^ lother Abbess dismisses the relatives with a very e wful countenance, and regrets very much, in iqppearaiiiee, their disappointment. .But the unhappy nun is never informed that her friends or relatives have called to inquire after her welfare. How amazing, that govern- ment should allow such prisms in the name of religion I ** CONVENT OP THE CAPUOBINB IN SANTIAGO. In a late number of "The American and Foreign Christian Union," we find the following account of con- ventual life from a rep(Hl of a Missionary in Chili, South America. ** Now, my brother, let me give you an account related to me by a most worthy English family, most of the mem- bers of which have grown up in the country, ctrnfirmed APPENDIX. 86S also by common reporti of the CSonvent of Capuchins, in Santia^ ^The number o^ inmates is limited to thirfy-two young ladies. The admittance fee :s $2000. When the nun enters she is dressed like a bride, in the most costly ma- terial that wealth can command. There, beside the altar of consecration, she dcTOtes herself in the most solemn manner to a life of celibacy and mortification of the flesh and spirit, with the deluded hope that her works will merit a brighter mansion in the realms above. ** The forms of consecration being completed, she begins to cast off her rich veil, costly vestments, all her splendid diamonds and brilliants— which, in many instances, have cost, perhaps, from ten to fifteen, or even twen^ thousand dollars. Then her beautiful locks are submitted to the tonsure ; and to signify her deadness forever to the worl^ she is clothed in a dress of coarse grey doth, called serg^ in which she is to pass the miserable remnant of her days. The dark sombre walls of her prison she can never pass, and its iron>bound doors are shut forever upon their new, youthful, and sensitive occupant Barely, if ever, is she permitted to speak, and nevery never, to see her friends or the loved ones of home— to enjoy the embraces of a fond mother, or devoted father, or the smiles of fraternal or sis- terly affection. If ever aUowed to speak at all, it is through iron bars where she cannot be seen, and in the presence cf the abbess, to see that no oomplahit esci^>es her lips. However much her bosom may swell with anriety at the sound of voices whieh were once music to her soul, and she may long to pour out her cries and tears to those who once soothed every sorrow of her h^fft; yet not a murmur must be uttered. The soul must suffer its own sorrows solitary and alone, with none to sympathise. 864 APPENDIX. fft grant relief, and none to listen to its moans but tne cold gloomy walls of her tomb. No, no, not even the Ckwpel of Jesus Christ, that great alleviator of all the sorrows of Uie heart, is allowed an entrance there. ** Nor is this all. Besides being condemned to a mea- gre, insufficient and uhwholesome diet which they them- ielves must cook, the nuns are not allowed to speak much with each other, except to say^ * Que morir tc^nonos,' * we ire to die,' or * we must die,' and to ireplj, ' Ya los sabe- mos,' * we know it,' or ' already we know it' '"They pass most of their time in small lonely Mils, where they sleep in a narrow place dug out in the ground^ in the shapd of a coffin, without bed cS any kind, except a t>iece of coarse »erg9 tsgreeA dowta ; and their daily dfess is their only covering. Sh^l did I say ? Alas ! * Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, no more with his downy pinions lights on lids unsullied with a tear 2 ' for twnry how of ihe twnOy-fow they are aroused by the bell to perform Hbxxt^Avo Maria%* count their ntsaries, and such other blind devotions as may be imposed. Thus they drag out a miserable exi^nce, and when death calls the spirit to its last aeoount, the other nuns dig the grave with their own hands, within the walls of the convent, and so perform the obsequies of their departed sister. "Thus, I have briefly given you not fiction ! but a faith- fiil narrative ci fiicts in regard to conventuid life, and an estaUishment marked by almost every form of sin, and yet making pretence of 'pffipfecting the saints,' by the firee and j^nUe influences of the gospel of Christ. ** Query Ist. What is done with &11 the money ? ** 2d. What is done with the rich vestments and jewels? **9d. Where do ^ priest get all their brilliaBtsto peribrm high mass and adorn their processions ? APPENDIX. 366 ** ik. Where does all the hair of the saints come from, which is sold in lockets for high prices as sure preventives ofevU? '*5th. Whose grave has been plundered to obtain reli'cf to sell to the ignorant. ^ 6th. Where does the Romish Church obtain her nwv flbu righteousnen to $eU to ike needy, and not give it like our blessed Lord, * without money and without price ? * ^ 7th. Who is responsible for the fanatieitm that in- duces a young female to incarcerate herself? <^8th. Where is the authority in reason, in revelation, for such a life ? «9th. What is the average length of life? « 10th. How many die insane ? **A young lady lately cast herself from the tower, and was dashed in pieces, being led to do it, dcubtless, in dea. peration. The convents of this city, of the same order, require the same entrance fee, $2000. Of course, none but the comparatively rich can avail themselves of this perfection of godliness. ^ Who will say that this mode of life has not been in- vented in order to cut short life as rapidly as possible, that the $2000, with all the rich diamonds upon initiation, may be repeated as frequently as possible ? ^'0 1 :^w trueit is, that Romanism is the same merci- less, cruel, diabolical organization, wherever it can fully develop itself, in all lands. How truly is it denominated by the pen of inspiration the < mjfttery of iniquity^ espe- cially that part of it relating to these secret institutions^ and the whole <»der df the Jesuits.'' The editor of the << Christian Union," in his remarks on the above, says, <* Already the fair face of our country is disfigured by the existence here and there of conventual 31* i 366 Art'BNDIZ. establishmentfc At present they do not show the hifleous feattires Tiffiich they, at least in some cases, assume in countries where papal influence and authority are supreme. The genius of ouir goyemment and institutions necessa- rily exerts a restraining power, which holds them ffom excesses to which, otherwise, they might run. B«t they constitute a part of a system which is strongly at variance with the interests of humanity, and merely wait the occur- rence of favorable circumstances to visit upoki our land all the horrors which they have inflicted elsewhere. ** How many conventual establishments there are now in the nation, fev/ Protestants, it is believed, know. And how many young females, guilty, of no crime against so- ciety, and condemned by no law of the land, are shut up in their walls and doomed to a life which they did not anticipate ./hen entering them, a life which is more dread- ful to them than death, vely few of the millions of our tStizens conceive. The majority of our people have slept over the whole subject, and the indifierence thus manifested has emboldened the priests to push forward the extension of the system, and the workmen are now busy in various places in the construction of additional establishments. But such fects as are revealed in this article, from the pen of our missionary, in connection with things that are oc- curring around us, show that no time should bf lost in examining this whole subject of convents and monasteries, and in legislating rightly about them.*' Again, when speaking of papal convents in the United States, the same talented writer observes, ** The time has fully come when Protestants should lay aside their apathy land too long-cherished indifference in respect to the movements of Rthat what she was in Europe when in the senith of hfr power, she will be here when fairly installed, and has ability to enforce her commands. ** Her numbers now on our soil, her nearly two thousand priests moving about everywhere, her colleges and print- ing-presses, her schools and ccmvents, and enormous amounts of property held by her bishops, have served as an occasion to draw out something of her spirit, and to show that she is arrogant and aiutive to th$ txtmU of htrpower, • ** Scarcely a newspaper issues from her press, but is loaded with abuse of Protestants and of their religion, and at every available point assaults are made upon their institutions and laws ; and Some and her institutixms and interests are erxmdtd into notice, and spedal privileges are loudly damoiX'-i for. ** All Protestants, therefore, of every name, and of every relij^ous and political creed, we repeat it, who do not desire to ignore the past, and to rraiounce all care or con- eem fojr the future, as to their children and children's chil- dren, should lose no time in informing themselves of the state of things around them in r^;ard to the papacy and ^ its institutions. They should without delay devote their effi>rts and influence to the protection of the country against these Popish establishments and their viages whioh have been set up among us without the^f^nlliDri^ of law, and under whose crushmg weight some of #e nations of Europe ha^e staggered and reeled ioroentorieib ^ / 368 APPSMOIZ. and have now but little of their former power and glory remaining, and under which Mexico, just upon our bor ders, has sunk manifestly beyond the power of recovery. ** J^t each individual leek to awaken an interest in Uiii matter in the n^nd of his neighbor. And if there be pa- llid estab|j»hi|ieote in the neighborhood under the names of 'pchoQlfy* ^retreats,' 'reUgious oommnnities,' cmp any other designationi which are at variance with, of are not eonfiNrmed t9» the laws of the oommonwealtl^ in which they are situated, let memorials be prepared and signed by thfl dtizens, and fwwarded immediately to the legisla^ ture, praying that they may be subjected to examination, and required to oonf and ioivst upon th^ equality of ail i^lapei before it" In dosing these extracts, we beg leave to eiiquress our- selves in the words of the ^v. Dr. Sunderland, of Wash- ington city, in a sermon delivered before the American and Foreign Clirlftian Union, at its anniversary in May, 1866. ^^But now it is asked, * Why all this tirade against Bo- man Catholics?' We repel the implication. It is not Ugainst the unhappy millions that are ground down under the ir^dn heel of that mormons despotism. They are of the common humanity, our brethren and kinsmen, accord* ing to the flesh. Tiiey need the same light, instruction, and salvati|Dle«ve M the roof of car month* What is it but a dark and ten!* ble power on earth beftxra Which so many honrfble iaeaii»' ries start up ? Why, sir, look ki it I WO drag th« bonea of the grim behemoth out to view, for we would not have the world forget his ugliness nor the terror he hat in- spired. * A tirade against Romanism/ is it ? O sir, we remember the persecutions of Justhuan ; we remember the days ci the Spanish Inquisition ; we remember the reign of * the bloodf Mary; ' we remember the rerocation of the Edict of Nantes ; we remember St Bartholomew ; we remember the murdered Covenanters, Huguenots, and Fiedmontese ; we remember the noble martyrs dying for the testimony of the faith along the ancient Bhine; we remember the later wrath which pursued the islanders of Madeira, till some of them sought refoge upon inese shores ; we remember the Madiai, and w^ know how the beast ever seeks to propagato his power, by force where he can, by deception where he must. And when we remember these things, we must protest against the forther Tiger and pros- perity of. this grand Babylon of all. Take it, then, tirade and all, for so ye must, ye ministers of Rome, sodden with the fumes of that great deep of abominations! The Toice of the Protestant shall never be hushed; the spirit of Beformati(m shall never sleep. O, lands of Fare! and of Calvin, of Zwingle and of Luther! O countrlip where the trumpet first sounded, marshalling the peofle to this fearful contest! We have heard the blast rolMng stiU 370 apphtdiz. W loader down tL *>ath of tibree handred jetn, «nd in odr ■did mnstor-nuuroh we oome, the eUldren <^ the tenth Senerntkm. We eoine a growbg phalanx, not with car- nal weaponi, hot with the armor lif the gocpel, and wield- ing the tword of trath on the right hand and on the left, we lay thit AnHekritt mtul falL Hear it, yt witneiies, and maik the word; bj the nu^eitj ^f the ooming Ung* dom of Jeeoi, and bj the eternal poipote of Jehoyah, TBii AimOBBIST MVIT f AX.L." . ' > in, and io odr B of the lenth ;, not with ow- ipel, and wield- nd on the Itft, ty 76 witnoMM, I ooming king* JehoyahiTBit A % .»»^rj