NUNNERIES IN FRANCE:
COMPRISING
A SERIES OF LETTERS
A NUN, A NOVICE. AND THEIR FRIENDS
Convent of St. Roch.
IN WHICH ARE UNFOLDED
THE TRUE CHARACTER AND CORRUPT PRACTICES
OF ROMAN PRIESTS;
TOGETHER WITH A
Full Account of the Habits and Maimers of Nuns,
AND or
EVERY-DAY LIFE IN FRENCH CONVENTS.
First American from the Last London Edition. With Notes and an Introductory. Preface, by an American Clergyman
NEW YORK:	
PUBLISHED BY
WRIGHT, GOODHUE, & Co.,
Corner Chambers st. and Broadway.
*,* Not to be had at the book stores. .
BETWEENSECRETS OF THE CONFESSIONALPREFACE.
The events recorded in this volume, and the correspondence which it includes, occurred during our Revolutionary War.
It appears that a short period after the escape of the Novice and the Nun from the Convent, and when the principal actors in the affair were disposed of according to the Narrative; and especially, as the delineations of life in the French Convents, which those letters contained, might be useful in a political as well as moral reference, that the whole of the letters were transferred, by consent of all the parties, to a gentleman who arranged them in order, and published them, with the distinct understanding, however, that the names of the writers should be changed, to avoid a recognition, and the danger which exists from the machinations of the Roman Priests—lest if they were known, the women and those who aided to emancipate them, might become the victims of the revenge which is ever displayed towards those who reveal the dreadful secrets of the Roman Confessional and the Jesuit Convents; especially the licentiousness and murders which are ever inseparable from all Monasteries and Nunneries.
It was believed, that at the present period, when the system of Monastic life ip the United States is so rapidly increasing, an authentic work, and so large a proportion of the correspondence, in which contains the descriptions of an American young lady, would be equally acceptable and useful. It proves one important fact; that the Nunneries in France prior to the revolution of 1789, were exactly of the same character, and that the same practices were universal in them, as in the Female Convents of Tuscany, discovered by Scipio de Ricci, and as more recently have been disclosed concerning the Charlestown Convent, near Boston; the Convent at Bardstown, in Kentucky; the Convents at Georgetown and Emmettsburg, as unveil-IV
PREFACE.
ed by 11 Sister Gertrude ” of Washington, and the Nunneries in Canada. They are all merely dens of iniquity and murder.
The details furnished in this Correspondence, respecting the Nunnery of St. Roch in France, authenticate all that ever has been disclosed with regard to the underground passages between the chief domicil of the priests and the neighbouring female Convent—and the outrages and poisoning of nuns, thereby accounting for the fact, that there are never to be seen any nuns but in junior years—and the numberless artifices by which the profligacy of the Roman Priests is gratified and sustained.
To this American edition a few Notes have been inserted where an explanation seemed desirable; and the pictorial illustrations will serve to impress the truth upon the minds of all who are desirous to comprehend the uniform cruelty and viciousness which are practised in all Nunneries without exception. The whole system of forced celibacy is directly opposed to the law and will of the great Creator ; and it is utterly impossible that any other result can follow from the unmarried condition of Roman Priests, and their combining a number of young women together in a private residence, within which the priests and their accomplices alone are admitted, than the most atrocious sensuality, and the complex murder of their victims. It has been the invariable consequence of monastic life for fourteen hundred years, in every part of the world, in all ages; and is now just the same, throughout the United States and Canada, as in Austria, Belgium, France. Ireland, Italy, Portugal and Spain.
New York, 1845.NUNNERIES IN FRANCE
LETTER I.
The Journey.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
Parents sometimes hare flinty hearts, and when tears cannot move them, their children must be wretched.
Who could have thought that a woman of so fine an understanding, and so sentimental a turn, as my mother, \vas capable of shutting up an only child in a female Convent, because somewhat taller than girls of sixteen generally prove?
You are anxious to know how I like my new situation. From the little judgment one day’s observation enables me to form, I should pronounce this mansion heaven upon earth : every thing around is so neat, so orderly, so elegant ; and the inhabitants are so gentle, so well-bred, so soothing, and so agreeable. Being a stranger to the joys, as they are called, of life, I cannot regret their loss ; and having my heart untouched, save by friendship, your company is all for which 1 sigh. On this account 1 greatly lament the change in my mother’s sentiments respecting your father. Had they made a match of it, your removisl would have been found to the full as necessary as mine ; and we should, at least, have had the consolation of being banished together.
I suspect, that certain attentions the old gentleman’s good-nature induced him to pay me in the course of his visits at our house, occasioned the double catastrophe of my exportation and his mistress’s inconstancy.—“ A fine promising girl—a pretty sort of young woman ”—were his frequent epithets; which anglicised,, could not be very flattering to one who chooses not to be deemed past her meridianMy mother never once opened her designs upon me until we reached Dover, when, in the style of an eastern Bashaw, she signified to me that it was her will and pleasure that I should be placed for two or three years in a religious house ; that my cheerful acquiescence would be considered as a mark of duty ; but that, whether I acquiesced or not, it was her will and pleasure, and must be complied with I therefore made a virtue of necessity; and getting on board the packet early the next morning, four hours pleasant sailing brought us across the little strait called le Pas de Calais.
As Calais and Bologne are too near to the British shore for me to be set down in them, my mother hurried me into the interior of the country, to wean me from those local attachments which bend the inclination towards a favourite spot. Be that as it may, however, here I am as much an English woman, and as much in love with England, as if I had never breathed the air of France ; nor do I believe it possible for time or circumstances to give me new impressions or new propensities.
Adieu, my only friend! and be thankful with me, that, amid all the peculiarities of our destiny, our correspondence has not been interdicted. I trembled lest the rigour of my sentence should have reached that distressing length ; and cautiously avoided every mention of your name, from an apprehension of pulling down that greatest of human ills on my head ; for my mother is despotic, and the sanctity of my word has never yet been violated. The rapidity of her movements prevented every possibility of a parting interview : but parting, Eliza, is at best a painful pleasure.
 	Maria.
L E T T E R I I.
The Nunnery.
Convent or Saint Roch.
I now relieve my friend from all her tender cares and fears respecting iny happiness ; which I cannot more effectually do, than by giving her a description of this mansion and its inhabitants.
The building consists of a spacious hall in front, with an elegant parlour in each wing; the confessional has a view of the gardens; the interior is fitted up in magnificent style, with school-rooms, bed-chambers, and an amphilhe-atrical range of cells, of which I know not the use ; with an Attic story, and cloisters that lead to the choir, dormitory, and other necessary parts of this splendid residence.
The gardens are, moreover, extensive, and laid out in taste ; for whether it is contemplation or air, retirement or society, that is the motive for walking in them, the wish is gratified, and the satisfaction general and heart-felt.
As for the Superior, she is the best-bred woman I ever met with, and in her day must have been a first-rate beauty : her lessons, therefore, on the vanity of personal charms, fall with inconceivable grace from her lips, and silence the most secret murmurings of that passion, which renders youth impatient to see and le seen. She was destined by her family and her own inclinations for the wife of a young officer in the French service, who fell in an engagement by a generous but unsuccessful effort to save her father’s life ; and this misfortune so detached her mind from earthly concerns, that she sought and found an asylum in this mansion.
Her appearance and behaviour have inspired me with unusual sentiments Oi French religious houses, against which you know we received some tearful prejudices: and were you, Eliza, but added to the society, I am positive I could live and die with pleasure in a convent,
kThe rules of this house are strict, and like the laws of the Medes and Persians invariable : early rising and early meals, with stated intervals of reading, industry, exercise, and devotion ; which is no unpleasant round. I speak only of the way those on the high pension fill up their time ; for such as, from a penurious temper, or their circumstances, place their daughters on the low pension, had much better keep them in England. They acquire a facility of speaking French, but not the pure or correct language; and are accommodated in a different style, both as to their eating and sleeping, from those on the high, though they pay only a few pounds less a year : they are also excluded totally from the knowledge of what passes, and all intercourse with the interior parts of the convent; never enter the parlours, or in any respect become the immediate objects of the Superior’s care ; but are considered in much the same light with school half-boarders in England, who scratch up their learning the best way they can ; and are the/ags of the whole concern.
A number of handsome nuns attend in the upper school, and voluntary perform offices teachers in Britain would think beneath the dignity of their character ; besides which, they impose heavy penances on themselves at certain seasons, from the extravagant persuasion that works of supererogation will be registered on high, and tell in at the great day of account.
It would be entertaining to hear the relation, from their own mouths, of the tchys and wherefores which induced them to a recluse life ; but the conversations the scholars are indulged in with this superior order of beings is only during the school-hours, and under the eye of a female intcndant or deputy Lady-Abbess : no intimacy, therefore, or confidential narratives, can be hoped for, or indeed entered into with them. It is, nevertheless, not impossible, "as we have a mixture of all ages under the sun, on the same terms, and nearly the same age with myself, that I may be enabled to present you some smaller dishes, worthy your acceptance, from a cloister.
I have had a letter from my mother, full of encomiums on the felicity of my situation :—exempt from care ; secure from folly; and out of the reach of danger.—Ah! Mother your conjectures are too precarious a foundation, on which to build your child’s peace and safety.—Do you not, moreover, hazard her religion ? for allurements are not wanting, though verbal persuasion is omitted. In your opinion, I suppose, it will be a good thing, if your daughter finds her way to heaven at last, though she should happen to pursue a contrary road to the one you pointed out to her, and have travelled through yourself.
The mode of living in religious houses, is by no means what the giddy fluttering people of the world conceive it; for “ the feast of reason and the flow of soul ” are not unenjoyed within their walls : music, dancing, and polite authors, are the alternate and familiar objects, or sources of our amusement. We have no men amongst us, but we have our emulations, our favouritisms, our parties, in like manner with you.
I have not adopted the French style of dressing ; but as nature and fancy are unfettered here, am become, as far as exterior reaches, an Arcadian nymph : for my hair flows negligently about my shoulders; my jacket and petticoat are prettily trimmed with ribbon ; my red slippers and my houyuel complete me tout-afait, the daughter of simplicity: nor is anv thing hut beauty wanted to make me a striking and engaging figure. As I must, however, despair of your being hence able to form an adequate idea of the merits of my appearance, even with all my disadvantages on my head, I am now silting to one of the sisterhood, who has a happy pencil for my picture, and shall in a short time pay you a visit in crayons, to your equal surprise and satisfaction.
Maria.LETTER III.
The Widow.
Convent ok Saint Koch.
Your prophecy is yet unfulfilled : it is not the surface alone that is smooth, but the utmost depths are unruffled. Peace, in all her varied, her delightful shapes, has fixed her abode within these walls; and joy and love, and every sof and amiable passion, are insensibly exited, animated, exalted by her.
You know I never was a gadfly either by nature or education ; therefore I feel it no difficult task to confine my views, my schemes, my wishes, except where you are concerned, to the limits prescribed me. Instead of sharp lectures, or painful self-denials, which were frequently given inn, and demanded from me, when under the parental roof, I here meet with nothing but commendation, socially, and smiling countenances: nor do I believe I shall ever experience a change, contrary us your declared opinion is to that I entertain. In the world, people are good by starts, as it were, and perform the duties of their characters as duties only ; here the heart takes the lead, and every, prejudice, every selfish partiality, flies before it; it measures others’ feelings by its own, the necessities, the delicacies of their situations; and to do as they would be done by, is the universal tenor of conduct,
.The life and manners so unimpeachable, are, I conceive, the reason why the solemnity in the mode of worship here  strikes my mind with a religious awe and pleasure that I never experienced in our churches ; ever)” one appears so perfectly in earnest, so unfeignedly convinced of the divine presence, as promised to all congregations that are sincere in their devotions, and the priests semi so immediately the deputies of the Most High, that an unhidden sympathy steals ine from myself, and I am, as it were, inspired with supernatural faith, gratitude, and reverence. Be not alarmed! the freedom of the will is not so much as attempted to be invaded ; no subject is stared to disturb, or raise a single doubt; and I ever considered those who abandoned the tenets in which they were educated, as having no religion at all.
0 Eliza, that it was but possible for us to spend onr lives together ! I cannot form an idea of higher felicity than strolling side by side through these beautiful gardens, observing the mechanical propriety which prevails around, or drinking tea with a woman I almost deify both for p‘rson and mind. It would be a feast to you to see our Superior, and an exquisite pleasure to me to hear your sentiments on all these matters.
I am making an acquaintance with an English gentlewoman, the widow of a captain, who has retired here on her little pension. She is barely mv mother’s age ; but loving the memory of the man she married beyond every thing in existence, she resolved to seek a situation where, without ridicule or singu-lari y, she might devote herself to such contemplations as suited best the colour of her mind, and where her small stipend would give her independence.
She is much esteemed by the Superior and all the assistant nuns ; I ut is reserved, and seldom chooses to mix in those parties where conviviality, however innocent, is the object. She speaks so handsomely of her husband, who died of the small-pox, that it is plain he merited all her regard, and that her regret is heartfelt. He was sensible. learned, lively, and engaging, and only thirty-two when he was cut off by that cruel disease.—She is, however, only a boarder, never attends mass, nor, Ian told, has once opened her lips on religion since she entered the convent: but the feature in her character which binds me most to her is this: her having had a daughter that shared her ten-derness, and lived to be twelve years old, for whose sake she would cheerfully have submitted to brave the difficulties of a bad world.
My mother’s neglect is the barbed arrow 1 bear about with me, and 1 have not the gift of suffering without complaint: so you must forgive and pity
Maria.
LETTER IV.
N i o b e, the American.
Convent of Saint Roch
Can you be seriously and gravely alarmed for the state of your friend’s soul, or weakly think a conformity to any forms the essence of Christianity?—I blush for you, and intreat you will make a speedy renunciation of your error. —Are there not heathens in the Protestant, if there are hypocrites in the Romish church?—Put here lies the difference between the two characters: the 	Protestant	sins 	against 	his	own convictions, without hope or belief of any human propitiation ; the Papist sins, with an intention to confess, do penance. and purge his soul from its offences immediately after the commission of them. WHEN ALL IS WELL AGAIN.
I have*, for the* first time, just taken notice of a little girl, who weeps incessantly for the distresses of her native country, and is thence , distinguished all over the convent by the name of Niobe. She is a young American.
I said a low civil things in order to qualify the familiarity of .my address to a stranger, and besought her to tell me how her heart came by its very uncommon sensibility for her tender years. “ Madam !” replied she, emphatically, “ my feelings have been awakened, quickened by scenes of misery, such as, I hope, neither you nor any of your friends will ever experience.”
I thanked her for her compliment, and asked her to drink tea with me, which is served up every day for the English ladies in the Refectory.
I found she is turned of fourteen, but very small of her age, and has a powerful memory and understanding. I was impatient for the appointed hour, as I flattered myself the innocent and intelligent prattle of this young stranger would soothe and soften the pangs of absence from the friend of my heart. She was punctual, and her eyes spoke too plainly how she had passed the intermediate time.
“ Still weeping,” said I; “such patriotic tears are seldom shed, and may they not be shed in vain !”	I
“ You must not rally, Madam, though you do it so agreeably ; for young as I am, I have substantial cause : for besides the general calamities of a country I love, my father and mother, tho most tender and affectionate o i earth, have been torn from me. They sent me under the care of a French lady to this, place of imagine I safety, but are themselves become fugitives, wanderers without home or habitation whilst I know not even of their personal exemption from torture or death—but 1 have already taught you a new lesson.” “ What is that, my dear ?” “Pity, generous pity, Madam.” I tapped her cheek, and my eyes insensibly moistening, she intreated, in the sweetest terms,
I would not let her misfortunes touch me too nearly. “ I would intercot you, for I feel I shall love you ; but I must not afflict you.”
I inquired how her family came to be so unfortunate as to fall almost the first sacrifice on the American continent, and found they lived on the spot where the opposition began. Mr. Smith, having served under General Wolfe, was an immediate object of suspicion and hatred, and as such, hunted down2
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
by those people who always take advantage of civil commotions to cover their own villainy and barbarity. Previous, however, to this act of violence and outrage, the little Niobe was embarked, by the care and caution of her kind parents, for France ; but heard the melancholy tidings from a packet that overtook her in crossing the Atlantic, which plunged her into the depest affliction.
I sincerely sympathised with her, and soothed her to the best of my abilities, bidding her trust that better days awaited her ; and we have promised to spend as much of our time together, as the nature of our situations will admit.—Ah ! Eliza, how little are the miseries of war conceived of by those who enjoy the invaluable blessings of peace—widows and the fatherless overwhelmed with woe ; famine, bloodshed, carnage marking the steps of the con-
3ueror ; and captivity or death, the only portion of the conquered, plundered, riven out. Oh ! ye men of power, when will ye be merciful ? Ye men of counsel, when will ye be wise ? Remember, before it is too late, your own property, reputation, and safety, are at stake ; nor can you undo without being undone.	Marla.
LETTER V.
Disputation.
Convent or Saint Roch.
* Still harping on my daughter !” Religion though most strictly practised in our nunnery, is the least talked of in this house, of all the houses I was ever in. Moreover, our priest is a man advanced in years, of sober demeanour, and exemplary piety. He gives me his blessing en passant every morning and evening, and I in return, compliment him with one of my best courtesies ; and that is the extent of our intercourse.
You desire me to remember an observation, made by a great writer, the force of which I feel and subscribe to, that in a convent, all the returns of the heart are to the world; in the world to God. But weariness alone gives birth to repentance, and how can weariness of soul take place in a mansion where there is a constant succession of pleasing employments, through eighteen out of twenty-four hours? For my own part, except where you are concerned, I have not known an interval of lassitude or discontent since I entered its walls.
Here is a young lady, whose noviciate expires next week, that is so lovely a figure, I cannot help thinking her a lively image of the beauty of holiness. I have endeavoured more than once to engage her notice, but she is cold and insensible to every earthly overture, and seems already a saint of the highest or-Jer. The ceremony of her taking the veil will be superb. She is from one of the greatest families in France, now barely sixteen, and as is said, becomes a nun from voluntary election.
No mortal has more inducements to quit the world than myself: a kind of orphin, dependent as to fortune, bound by no tie but that of friendship, and forbid the enjoyment of that only friend my heart ever acknowledged. However, I beseech you to observe, that it is a thought which comes casually across my mind, and is wholly discountenanced by reason, and uncherished by the passions.
The Superior caught me the other morning in a musing attitude. “ Beware, my child,” said she, “ of melancholy; it will impose on your understanding and mislead your heart: seek, much rather than shun, your agreeable comoanions—participate in all their rational, their elegant amusements—NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
13
vie with them in every innocent contest for superiority, and yield to none in menial excellence. Nature has been bountiful to you ; your capacity is ample, your disposition docile, your mind well turned : cloud not, then, your perfections by gloom or i:l-humour ; purity of soul always gilds the features with gladness. Smile, my love, and be yourself again.”
I blushed, and went immediately into our parlour ; for there is no replying to this woman on certain subjects. On my entrance, I found a little dispute had arisen, between Niobe and a Scotch boarder, on the question of loyalty vnd that their nationality had carried them great lengths.
Her spirit, her eloquence, her sensibility, drew the chief of her audience over to her party. I own, that forgetting at what price the victory must be purchased, I sincerely wished her countrymen might be victorious.
Come, Eliza ! and take sanctuary from a bad world under this celestial roof! One half of the community are knaves, and three-fifths of the other moiety fools. Come, then ; and sit down with me in retirement and innocence, before the calamities of war spread such lengths as to impede your passage. Niobe is impatient to kiss your hands. Mrs. Ashley, the widow, ardently longs to see you. You will find a little army of friends to rejoice in your arrival, and demonstrate to you, that goodness to goodness is a natural attraction, and that the complexion of the soul is unaltered by the air of a convent.
Maria.
LETTER VI.
Sympathy.
Convent or Saint Roch.
A letter from my mother ! The hand-writing and the signature are hers! but judge, by this specimen, how much of the maternal character there is in the language.
She tells me, she has now a most advantageous offer, which she believes she shall accept; and that though my father, from excess of tenderness, and in order to make it my interest to be dutiful, left my provision wholly at her mercy, she will not fail, previous to her change of condition, to vest a sum in the hands of trustees, as a portion for me, if I marry with her approbation, or a handsome support, if I choose to continue in my present situation ; that my own good sense will point out to me the impropriety of taking a tall girl under her protection, whose head and heart are liable to be turned by the vanities of life, when she has pledged herself at the altar to make the happiness of her husband the sole object of her attention; and therefore recommends it to me, to make my election, and let her receive my speedy answer.
When I read my mother’s letter, the gentle Niobe shed tears with me, without knowing the cause of my distress. She then asked me, like poor Lear, from a disturbed imagination, if I had not some beloved friend or relative in America; “ for all other misfortunes, are light and trivial, compaiedto those my country labours under.”
I assured her that was not the case; and effectually to relieve her doubts put the maternal epistle I had perused into her hand. Her colour changed several times whilst she ran over its contents, as surprise, pity, or honest indignation, predominated.—“We have no such mothers in America; my countrywomen are tried, and alone approved worthy as they best acquit themselves in that tender character. Oh ! why was you not an American ! But, the soul," she continued, “ is of no particular nation, and claims its kindred14
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
soul wherever it finds it. I wish I had a brother, that could ask your acceptance of him. Alas! who knows if I have one relative left?—though to soothe your sorrows I can so wantonly forget my own. Will you Madam, by your friendship supply to me as far as possible, all my lost family? Will you always allow me access to your heart, cheer me by your compassion, guar 1 me by your advice, and keep me from despair?”
Mrs. Ashley, perceiving us much affected, begged leave to join us—“ Curiosity, my young friends, is a motive you can never impute to such a mind as mine. It ts my concern at seeing you the prey of affliction that induces me to break iri upon you, to tell you, that you feel every disappointment, every evil, from your inexperience, with tenfold weight to the reality. Calamity is the Common inheritance of existence,—and teaches us a lesson prosperity never so much as hints at; namely, that it is not in this world we are to fix our everlasting abode; hut that youth, beauty, honours, as well as age, disease, and misery, alike lead on to the grave, where all things can alone he equally and permanently adjusted.”
I communicated my cause of grief, and received much consolation from the light in which her good sense placed it; hut her sentiments and yours, not-withstanding the difference of your years, are perfectly correspondent. We promised her, to submit ourselves and our affairs to Providence, whose designs are most excellent, and their ultimatum our eternal happiness, however discordant to our mortal inclinations; nor will the little Niobe, if she can help it, weep again.
Yet such is my ungovernable-spirit, that I can scarcely forbear expostulating with heaven, why susceptibilities were given me that are my torment. Many young curls are as indifferent about their mothers, as my mother is indifferent about her child ; hut I should have been delighted in being approved, guided, countenanced by the author of my existence, and with rapture have given testimonies of my affection and gratitude. Some wise effect will, nevertheless. I am persuaded, result from this hidden cause of mortification, and I shall live to Ionic hack with thankfulness on what I now deem the severest task of submission.
Maria.
LETTER VII.
Auricular Confessions and Image Worship.
Convent or Saint Rock.
Your punctual correspondence is the “ cordial drop” of my existence, My little friend, who is dexterous at translating looks, discovers my anxiety before I confess it, when the time comes that I expect a letter from England; and though I have repeatedly told her, it is a female friend alone I am so anxious to hear from. I always found her faithless until this morning, when making her affection for me a case in point, she readily entered into my feelings, and is positive no man on earth will ever lie so dear to her as I am.
I shall frighten you, but I begin to think that confession must he a blessed relief to the oppressed mind. For example, in my particular circumstances, was I to how before some learned prelate now, and inform him of the unduti-ful starts I experience, do you not conceive it would he both very soothing and very salutary to have the voice of wisdom calm the stormy passions, and the voice of religion, speak me into resignation ?NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
1)
As for the other articles of Romanism, I still remain averse to them, anil refer myself, alone, for absolution to that tribunal where
 -t: Superstition I0939 every fear ;
For God, not man, absolves our errors there
which is a strong proof that I am in no danger of becoming an apostate from the religio 1 of my forefathers.
The lit le Niobe assures me she has been frequently tampered with, hut that she always liies out, at a rate which is by no means pleasing to her tempters ; and they tell her, in plain terms, they now leave her to be undone her own way. She, moreover, insists upon i:, there is nothing hut masters and mistresses of arts within these walls, and that the mode of attack is suited to the taste, capacity, and mental constitution of the party; and that, however I may deceive myself, silken nets are spread for me, in which she fears my passions will be entangled, though my reason and conscience should make every such powerful resistance. The sly, quiek-d. seeming gill goes so far as to charge me wi h being, already, a downright idolater; lor she says she can conceive my h art does homage to the cr icitix every time it meets my eye.
We may fancy what we please, she asserts, but the passion's are wonderfuly within the power of externals, and are composed or ruffled by them at will; as a proof of which, she tells a story the nuns entertained her with on her first arrival in the convent, and which, she conceives, ought to awaken her to a perception of my danger, and put me on my guard. She had spoken her dislike of the pictures before which the people of this house how the knee, and boldly advised them to shut out every object of sense, and let their hearts bend to the unseen God.	
In reply to this, they declared to her that they in no degree worshipped the paintings, hut only set them before them to touch and interest their minds, and keep them from all wanderings; and that the mind was capable of being fixed or agitated, by the representation of a beloved as well as a feared object, was clear, from the following incident:—
A gentleman, who had long combated this point, happened to attend some company, among the number of which was a Priest, who had his eternal welfare much at heart, over his house, to show them the improvements and additions he had made since their last visit; when, coming to one particular apartment, he changed colour, stopped, and begged to he excused entering it, for that the picture of his dead son was there, and he was beyond measure distressed whenever he beheld it. The Priest, turning instantly upon him, said : “ Why, Sir, if a canvass, representing the features of your departed and beloved son, can so greatly move you, why will you not consent to aid your devotions by the representation of his sufferings who died that you might live, and whose agonies were the price of vour salvation ?”* The gentleman was overco ne, and from that time forward always prayed in the true letter and spirit of the Romish superstition.
I waned for her inference, for the little relation had made a deep impression on my mind, insomuch that I secretly determined to warm my religious zeal before a crucifix, however I might continue to disapprove the practice of addressing the saints.
“ You make no comment,” said she, “ on this idle tale, and perhaps I have done harm where I sought to do good; but do not deceive yourself. Though you may set out with ever such clear distinctions in your head, you will insensibly lose them, and instead of looking up to the heaven of heavens for the
• This sorcery makes the worship of an image violating the Second Commandment, and the remembrance of a friend identical.16
object of your prayers or praise, you will sink into the actual worshipper of images made with hands, imagined likenesses of the Deity, as suggested by our finite capacities, and thus degrade the King of kings, while you flattered yourself you were paying him the purest adoration.”
I send you our conversation, to satisfy you that I am still under a friendly and watchful eye ; and as the urchin has found means to come at the knowledge of your address, I doubt not but she will inform you, by letter, if she thought me in any real or immediate danger of being perverted, as she calif the being made a Romish proselyte.
The whole convent is busied in preparations for the solemnity of receiving the Nun, and the young lady’s countenance is lighted up with love and resignation.
So curious am I become in all matters that relate to what is deemed, in thif house, the most grateful of all human offerings to heaven, that I long to know what incited so lovely a creature, in the pride and bloom of life, to fly from splendour and adulation into a convent. This must be holy inspiration ; and though no enthusiast, as Mrs. Ashley insinuates, I cannot forbear adopting the general opinion, that she is, in a most peculiar manner, the child of heaven ; for it is not love—that disease of young minds, nor disappointed ambition— the corroding anguish of aspiring minds, nor faded charms—the poison ot rain minds, nor disgust—that wrapper of gloomy minds, which has prompted her to this blessed election. Health, beauty, and content glow on her cheek * the lustre of innocence animates her eye ; yet, in a few days, for her
The priest prepares the convert's bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing.
This sight will pay me for all the mortifications my mother’s conduct has cost me, and, for the time, even suspend the regret I feel in being separated from you ; for, ah! what has the world to give that is worth a moment’s ambition, or one weak sigh ? For my part I actually despise
“ Its pomp, its folly, and its nonsense all”—
and, though I cannot be a nun, I am resolved to spend the remainder of my days as near as possible to the perfection of piety, exhibited within these walls, by a happy multitude, who have acquired the power of subduing every wild and idle desire, and have exchanged the fleeting, unsatisfactory pleasures of time for the never-ending felicities of eternity.	Maria
LETTER VIII.
Delusion and Perversion.
Convent or Saint Roch.
My fate is determined, and an annuity of sixty pounds a year, the In terest of two thousand pounds, is ascertained to me beyond revocation or Tecall. Well! sixtypounds a year, with the turn of mind I possess, is better than sixty times the sum with a rage for dissipation. Ah ! it cannot be concealed ; the decisive blow is given, and we must part forever.
If the religion professed in this house has its errors, it has its perfection* likewise:	fastings, self-examinations, are continually bringing back the
wandering heart; and though mortality must be frail, how can a woman, under such regulations, be a hardened sinner ?NUNNERIES IN FRANCK.
17
I have seen a sight that men and angels must behold with rapture. The beautiful young creature is now become a Priest’s sister, and her affections, with her person, devoted to the Author of her existence.
I saw the transports of her soul when she approached the altar ; fire sparkled in her eyes; she pronounced the awful words that cut her off from society with unshaken accents, and retired never more to view, to wish for, or even to think of the world again.
I have had some conversation with our Superior, who advises me to consider well what I am about, nor mistake disgust of any kind for holy zeal, or the admiration of a convent for the dislike of the world. She observed, that sincerity and truth are the demanded offerings; and that those, who hastily throw themselves into the kind, peaceful arms of a cloister, and repent, not only deceive mankind, but hourly offend him from whom no secrets are hid. How unlike this behaviour to every thing I expected ! Instead of precipitating me, she begged me to deliberate; and instead of dazzling my youthful imagination with pictures of peculiar felicity under her roof, assured me it was the most important step of my life, and could not be taken with too much caution or reflection.
The little Niobe, who is every where, met me just as I quitted the parlour, and regarding me for a moment, was not at a loss to guess the motive of my visit.
“ Is it possible, then, cried she, that your good sense can be so taken in!— God forgive those who have so long laboured to warp such a mind as yours. Alas ! what is it you seek for in this house that the world cannot give you ? —Retirement is every where in your power, if retirement is your choice ; and you may indulge yourself in devotion, even to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, if devotion has such abundant charms for you, without lying yourself up to either the one or the other. If you can distrust your resolution, you are doing a wicked thing ; repentant tears pollute the cheeks of a nun, and pull down vengeance, instead of salvation, on her head. You should see what I see, and your heart would be sufficiently hardened: not a scholar in the place but returns to their friends either confirmed Papists, or without one principle of any religion or decency in their bosoms—the arts which are practised operate like a slow poison, and the mind is lost before we are sensible it is INFECTED !”
Bqt whatever appearance of truth there may be in this well-meaning girl’s representations, do I not know, there is little reality in them ?—What attempts have been made on me ?—Do I not behold every countenance serene ?—Does that bespeak repentance, though ye^rs have passed away since they shook hands with the world ? Their religious zeal is in no degree abated, as their behaviour at Mass undeniably evinces.
Besides, my mother, dissatisfied as I may be with some parts of her conduct, is still my mother; and I am certain I shall fulfil the first wish of her heart, by fixing myself in a state whence there is no return. Every thing has conspired to lead me to this choice—the world’s frowns, the convent’s smiles —the world’s folly, the convent’s wisdom—the world’s danger, the convent’s safety : then confess, Eliza, the work of Providence.
I have consulted my soul, and find that without the most secret sblf-reproach, I can draw near the awful throne. My heart is emp'y, save of you and God; and friendship is an emanation of the divinity, and must-purify, not stain, the bosom it inhabits.
I have a great notion my little busy friend is now, pen in hand, pouring forth her generous anxiety for me, on paper, for your perusal—receive her lefter, then, as the effusions of a tender, apprehensive, but misjudging spirit, and pay no regard to the descriptions it contains. She has strong feelings,
Aconsequently strong pr judiceo; a lively fancy, therefore an aptness for painting tilings in their highest colourings : and the Americans, 1 have moreover diypovered, bring up their children in an absolute abhorrence of the Romish Religion, and in the wildness of their zeal, condemn it because it has some errors !
But, Eliza, the fact is this—as the Priest and Nuns say—the Romish religion was the religion, established by the Prince of Peace, the Saviour of mankind, the religion propagated by bis holy Apostles, the true and original bishops pf the church,* and was the universal religion of Christianity from the first to the fifteenth century, when a man of a contentious, turbulent, and ambitious temper, set up for a reformer, on principles still more censurable, apocryphal, and absurd, than those he professed to explode.
Such as were fond of novelty eagerly embraced its new-fangled tenets; and such as professed a similar obstinacy of mind with the little Niobe, died, rather than renounce their recently-adopted faith.
Henry VIIf., on the noble basis of offended pride and disappointed love, raised the superstructure of Protestnnism. He had obtained, as a title, only a few years before, from the Pope, the addition of Defender of the Faith, for a book he had written in refutation of heterodox opinions; but no sooner was his licentious eye cast on his brother’s wife, and the holy church had refused its sanction to such unhallowed nuptials, than he abjured the papal dominion, and became at once a Protestant and the violator of his deceased brother’s bed.
His conscience, nevertheless, at the end of twenty years, betrayed its genuine complexion—the Protestant King had seen the beautiful Anna Bujlen, and he immediately, by his own power and authority, for he had no Pope to regulate his conduct, or restrain his vices, divorced himself from the woman he had married in defiance of the holy mandate; and so proceeded on in one uninterrupted course of hypocrisy, blood, and iniquity, to his sixth wife,—but, take notice, was all the time a good Protestant sovereign at the heart.
Had he not publicly and openly quarrelled with the father of the church, the Roman church would have borne the whole reproach of his crimes, indulgences would have been said to have been granted, dispensations purchased, and absolutions sold for a price—but mark, Eliza ! he was a Protestant, a declared, an established Protestant, during the horrid period of his horrid practices.—Would to heaven this circumstance might enlighten your mind, as it has done mine, and that you may become a true Christian.!	Maria
LETTER IX.
Wiles of the Nunnery.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Rock
My motive will plead my excuse for the liberty I now take with you. Miss Gerard is on the point of renouncing the world, and you; for I know it will be demanded of her, as a sacrifice to her God, to break through every tender connexion that would hold her, as they call it, on “ the argument of life.”
* The only account of an apostolic Bishop and Bishopric in the New Testament is in Acts i. 20 ; concerning “Judas, the Traitor.”
fThis is the common mendacious account of Henry VIII*, propagated by the Roman Priests among their ignorant disciples; for there is not one word of truth in the whole fabrication.NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
19
As for me, 1 am un outcast, and the mark of perdition is set upon me, because I am not to be moulded to the Priest's will—have my sensed seduced, my understanding laid asleep, and my heart rendered the dupe of the blackest artifices ever practised by the blackest magician in fabulous writ. Bat I will tell you my stronghold, my infallible security against all their wiles.
In America 1 have seen instances of vice and uncharitableness in people of the Papist religion, that the very savages would blush to be guilty of-—yet, Who's afraid ? is their motto—the Priest is ready with his chastening absolution ; and though the greatest sinner himself, impiously professes a power of taking away the sins of others.
You have heard the story of my misfortunes, and the melancholy chance which threw me into this seminary of deceit! I have not the softness of nature which is our deluded friend’s characteristic; therefore, resist where she yields, despise all their wicked attempts to enslave my freedom of choice, and laugh at every lying testimony of their marvellous pretended miracles and sanctity.
I was scarcqly recovered from the fatigues of tny passage across the Atlantic, before they put a book, a Legendary I think it was called, into my hands, wherein was registered such gross absurdities, that I found, to become a Papist, I must offer up my common-sense on the shrine of superstition. 1 therefore returned it, with a sufficient comment on its contents to inform them that the perusal of it had left me as faithless as it found me; and more opposed to their falsehoods.	/
I was then led to their chapel, where the full organ, accompanying glorious Hosannas, is apt to steal away the soul ; but I had the happiness to remember, in the midst of this bewitching solemnity, that profane lips were uttering the divinest things, and that instead of an angelic congregation, I was mixed with licentious deceivers, and vain pretenders to supernatural sanctity, and supernatural endowments ^
In the school I perceived the creatures of the convent fine-drdwing the minds of the innocent and credulous :—I perceived that those who were most startled in the first instance at the idaaof exchanging the religion of their parents and country for the religion of the convent, became, by proper management, the warmest of all enthusiasts. I perceived that every feeling of nature was struck at, and that to be the child of God, in their construction of the icords, I must break through every moral, every tender tie, and cease to love the father and mother I had seen; though the Bible affirms, that, if we love iiot the parents we have seen, we cannot love our heavenly Father whom we tiave not seen.—Hence I was convinced it Was degrading, if not insulting the Deity, to do as they required ; for that it wras at once to rob Him of His beau-iful attribute—mercy, and set bounds to His benevolence, who is the universal Protector of His creatures.
From this turn of mind, which my father and mother took pains to cultivate, t would, according to their Legendary, be much easier for them to remove nountains into the midst of the sea, than to make me a proselyte.
Miss Gerard had been some time in the convent before she did me the honour ,o take notice of me ;—but my busy spirit put me early on studying her tem-oer and character—for I cannot always weep, lest melancholy should seize me. I unbend by every means in my power, and have much pleasure in getting acquainted with the heart, by the lights held forth in the countenance of those I am cast among. Miss Gerard, who is purity and truth, is unhappily persuaded that purity and truth dwell within these walls.—Alas ! how little does she know of its inhabitants! Numbers of the most worthless women, worn out in the public eye, or broken down by disease, retire here on small20
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
annuities and close a life of unbridled licentiousness by the mockery of penitence, and secret criminality with the visiting Priests.
These are the saints, these the angels on earth you are liable to form friendships with in a convent. Their manners are often engaging, their address insinuating, and their conduct specious ;—but if once you join hands with them, they unfold themselves like serpents, and contaminate the hearts they win to approve them, by the most insidious and bewitching methods, until the innocent become as vicious and hypocritical as themselves.
Moreover, the very dregs of the French nation—girls, who, in the evening, mix in revels in which Comus himself might participate, in the morning ap-
fiear demure, pious and saint-like, except where they think they can safely un-ock their lips, or recommend themselves by tales of gallantry—these, likewise, assist at every superstitious assembly—these sing forth the praises of the great Author of all things, in the very moment when their thoughts are wontoning in recollected vices, or planning future iniquity. This is the companionship and life in our Nunnery.
Can such be fit associates for Miss Gerard ? Yet these are the schools the infatuated people of England send their children to; though they receive no child back ; for their hearts are alienated by a difference in religion—a religion that glories in its want of charity, and considers heretics and brutes on a level, besides having their heads turned by a taste for gallantry. And worse than all, the Priests leach the young women so many artifices and such deceitful practices, that they can engage in every kind of voluptuousness ailil intrigue, and with such contrivances of disguise, that they would neither be known nor suspected. I hear the Nuns and the pensionnaires often tell such shameless things, that I am ashamed to know them; and nothing but my curiosity to learn every thing about the Roman Priests and the Nuns could overcome my detestation even to listen to their almost incredible tricks and scandalous wickedness. Hasten, then, I beseech you, to rouse your friend from the lethargy her good sense has fallen into ; strive to convince her by arguments, such as I know you are mistress of, strengthened by the honest hints and unexugge-rated description this letter contains, that all she beholds is a farce, a stage trick, and that when the curtain is once drawn aside she will shudder at her condition, and to the latest moment of her life deplore the fatal price she shall have paid for the knowledge of the facts which you represented to her in vain.
I am looked upon as a child, and therefore am left at liberty to pry into abundance of things I should otherwise be ignorant of—important truths which for fear of accidents I dare not relate, though, perhaps, you will think 1 have ventured in what I have already committed to paper; but, be assured the lion’s den is not a more dangerous place of residence than a Nunnery ; ant that tigers and wolves are less savage than the men who live by hypocrisy, ani* disregard every thing, but their exterior.
Niobe; or, Arabella Smith.NUNNERIES IN FRANCE
21
LETTER X.
Infatuation.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent oi Saint Roch.
I thank you for your friendly intention; but, indeed, you are impose upon. Whatever advances I have made towards a renunciation of the world, are all self-dictated; as a proof of which I will describe to you the behaviour of those about me.
On my first arrival every one pursued their wonted track, before my name was known among them, or my disposition, to speak in your language, in any degree sounded; and I fell in love with the uniform apparent peace and holiness which they always wore ;—but no sooner dia I express a wish of becoming a sister, than they were wrapt up in reserve, lest I should suspect them of designs upon me, of which their honest open natures were incapable.
I have by the mere dint of intreaties, been present at some conversations which enlighten the soul, which break upon it with the force of revealed truths, and now see what is called the parade of all religious professions in a just point of view.
The minds of the vulgar are only to be wrought upon by outward show; and surely we can never stoop or act unworthily, when \t is to save a soul from everlasting perdition.
The gentle Niobe, for I love her in spite of all her erroneous officiousness, is incapable of judging of what the learned alone can comprehend, and are alone qualified to determine the merits:—she has greater quickness of perception, but her prejudices confine her to the surface of thinirs ;—my thirst for right information pushes me on to the centre, or fountain head, of intelligence.
I have written to my mother, for leave to begin my noviciate, or more properly for her consent, ffiat by virtue of a dispensation from the father of the church, it may commence its date from the day I entered into this holy mansion:—for I am impatient to put it out of the power of chance or accident to rob me of the prize angels do not disdain to hold out to me, if I will only use the means to obtain it; and I must not trust myself to read your reasonings against my salvation.*
Moreover, I have been admitted to some private assemblies, where the nuns, the superior, and the priests alone, perform acts of devotion; and joyfully tell you, that all I hear, and all I see, augment my desire of becoming one of the sisterhood by a tie no human fiat can dissolve.
I am sorry the little Niobe, from mistaken kindness to me, has constituted herself your correspondent—for you will be too much affected by her partial accounts and illiberal surmises, and continue the longer averse to your friend’s happiness. I will, however, candidly tel) you, that, as an antidote against your arguments, and her silent eloquence, which my weak heart, I am fearful, might he unable to resist, I have been convinced I ought to put every future letter I receive from you into our Superior’s hands, and attentively consider the comments her good and great mind makes on each sentence they contain.*
* Tn the Unit’d States, all letters which are written bv a boy u ^irl in the Jesuit Seminaries, Colleges, or Convents, by whatever name called, or any tetters directed to them, are opened, read, sent, delivered or itptm, just,as the interests of the priestcraft will he, pr„moted. In the advertisement of the Georgetown Convent. September, 1943, 't is expressly announced—“ All letters will be opened by the President”22
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
That I have loved you, with the most lively, the most heartfelt affection, you cannot doubt—but is there any sacrifice too great for God, any object he haa created worthy to be brought into competition with himself? I am therefore, diligently learning, not to subdue, but regulate, my affection for you by a proper standard, and though it may buoy up above every other concern, keep it in due subordination to the passion that will henceforth animate and lib my soul.
I have now no earthly anxiety but for you—reflect, therefore, how little stress ought to be laid on forms ; the prayers you say, are the same in effect, though not perhaps in the letter, with those we use—it is the same God we worship ; and whether he is adored in the cold mechanical manner as in the English churches, or with the zeal, the warmth, the ardor, as in our chapel— let me ask you which must be most salutary to the adorers, or acceptable to the adored ?
Your clergy look on the clerical character as a profession only, and perform its duties with the same feelings a tradesman attends and talks to his customers: vanity or interest sometimes, indeed, makes them eloquent, and they prav with eyes uplifted, and hands awfully disposed, while their hearts are in the world, at the card table perhaps, or the table and chamber of voluptuousness. The priests in theRomish church spare no pains to instruct,'convert, and save all that come within their knowledge, as well as those souls more immediately committed to their care. Only come, and view, and prove, and mak° your election—I promise you, if the force of example, and your own sensibility, are not sufficient to open your eyes, you may remain in as total darkness in this convent as under your father’s roof; for no language will ’be used to ensnare you, as your prejudices might deem the most friendly exhortations.
If you could only gain Mr. Freeman’s consent for visiting France, my mother, as the connexion between the families is terminated, need never know we have contrived to meet again.
I find that my mother is not only married, but likely to have a second offspring—and may she never feel—but she cannot on their account what she did on mine !—I was born too soon for her to love herself in me—on the contrary, by the time they will grow up, the world’s pleasures will lose their hoia on her heart, and she will be all the mother.
I thank her, however, most unfeignedly, for the last act of kindness bestowed upon me—Had she not treated me in my infancy exactly as she did or had she failed to place me in my youth in this house, I should never have attained the height of grace and heavenly approbation I now aspire to—Mav she then be rewarded with every good to her and hers !
Maria
LETTER XI The Intreaty.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
Ah ! dear Madam ! suffer not yourself to be prevailed upon to enter these walls; for though you may be in no danger of becoming a nun, your thoughts would be so disturbed, so many doubts would, from the fascinating conversation here, be excited, that, as I affirm in the case of the English scholars, if you become not a Papist, you will cease to be a Protestant, and have yourf
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
23
mind rendered a mere chaos in religion; and yourself without virtue or morality except as interest prompts.
Miss Gerard shuns me—as a proof of the pernicious tenets she has imbibed, her compassion for a poor distressed innocent girl, and her affection for a sincere and mniable friend, are extinguished : but it is all, she says, for the love of God—the rock on which the best hearts split when in the hands of these baneful reformers!
I am looked upon by the Superior with a jealous eye, and the Priests, as they pass by me, shake their heads: but they are welcome to anathematise me, expel me, torture me, any thing, every thing, rather than make me their subservient proselyte. The view, I have now reason to believe, with which I was brought into this convent, by the pretended friend of my beloved and unsuspecting parents, was to prostitute me to the Jesuit Priests.
The presumptuous idea adopted by the Romanists, that they are doing God service, in persecuting the helpless, and betraying the unwary into verbal professions of their faith, is the source of the greatest evil in society; but if 1 should ever escape their gripe, ever return to my country, I will bare their their hypocrisy to noon-day inspection, and guard the public from future deception ; and unfold their frauds, seductions, and licentiousness.
If Miss Gerard does take the veil, I will fly this detested roof. But where can I fly ? The treacherous woman that placed me here is at Paris, and without her authority, or my parents command, they will never more permit me to be at large. If they are dead, I am lost; for, as a punishment of my resistance, they will hold me in durance, and make me when they shall hear I am friendless, perform the most servile and disgusting offices for my daily bread ; and force me to yield to the Priest’s lust, as they have others.
Yet, let me not wound your gentle nature : you merit, and are the care of heaven—you have a father, friends, fortune, liberty ; 1 am deprived of all, and next to the distresses my father and mother are plunged in, I lament Mis® Gerard’s desertion of me ; her cold, averted look stabs me to the quick—I am jealous of every one she approves, and execrate the wretches who would have betrayed her and ruined me.
My selfish anguish shall however be subdued : let not therefore a thought of me interrupt your attention, though but for a moment, to our friend, while anything remains within possibility to be done. Write on—yet wherefore write ? A council of her and our direst enemies instantly assemble on the receipt of your letters—and though her cheeks are bedewed with tears, I know what tears she is taught to call them ; the tears of holy love, holy conflict, and holy triumph. It strikes me, then, that nothing but your picture, though ever such a miniature, can speak forcibly to her heart—these wretches rest much on these eye-traps. Send me, then, as speedily as possible, the best resemblance of your features you can obtain, giving them as plaintive a cast as is in the power of the pencil, without destroying the character of the countenance, and leave me to find the fit hour for surprising her with a sight of it; and may Heaven be propitious to so innocent a device !
Mrs. Ashley is most unfortunately confined to her chamber, by a slow, but alarming disease.—I visit her, but touch lightly on my sorrows ; for she appears to be sinking gradually into (tie grave, and cannot bear any violent sensations. She loves our Maria as tenderly as we do, and is equally distressed at the idea of her becoming a nun—but, poor thing! flatters herself, against all probability, that some lucky turn will impede the so-much-dreaded event, by awakening her to the needful sense of her unhappy infatuation. But I know them too well; ihcy play too sure a game, when they have once got R good mind in their toils, to leave one opening for a counter-plot; and no-thing but a miracle can snatch her from destruction, or restore her to her agonized friends. ■	Arabella.
LETTER XII.
Persuasioti.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
My mother has for once been gracious, and I am permitted to dispose of myself as I please.—Six weeks, then, by virtue of the obtained dispensation, only remain unexpired by my novitiate ; and I conjure you, by our past friendship, to indulge me with one interview before tbe everlasting barrier is set up Oetween us.
I now spend all my time in the parlour, or in my devotions—have furnished myself with a veil and beads, and at the conclusion of every prayer remember you. Oh ! can it be possible, Eliza, that hearts so perfectly in unison as ours Have been from our very cradle to this period, shouid jar at last; and that, when I bid a final adieu to the world, you can resolve to continue an inhabitant thereof?
No human object has yet engaged your heart—vou are free, are worthier your God than I am, because undetached from life by the mortifications I bave experienced. Oh, that you would, then, but consent to reunite yourself to a sister in friendship, by joining yourself to a sister in holiness !
What has the world to offer that could compensate what I am about to enjoy ?
“ Desires composed, affections ever even,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heaven.”
I am directed by the priest, into whose hands I have put my conscience, to convert my love of you into a love for your soul only; our intercourse here is transitory, hereafter eternal. Think of the power of devotion, that could subdue affection like mine, and make me resolve to renounce you, and guide my trembling pen to tell you that resolution, if you cannot be prevailed upon to renounce the world.
I cannot give you an idea of the alacrity with which I perform all my preparatory acts of devotion—even tny “slumbers,” in the language of our favourite poet, are “ obedient,” and I wake at stated periods to contemplate the glorious prospect before me. I am not now eighteen ; it is eld enough, however to be wise, and young enough to be anxious to fly from the evil to come.
At confession you have a large share in mv memory; for as I tell my preceptor, your image often, in spite of all my efforts,
“Steals between my (&d and me.”
It is in your power to produce a very contrary effect, and, insteud of opposing, promote my salvation.
My Arcadian dress is laid aside, and the halillements of the Nunnery substi-uted in its place. My superfluous hair, flattened do-vn to my forehead,is cohered w'itn a cambric cap, not much unlike what the Foundlings wear in England. I own to you, if every spark of vanity was not extinguished in mvcomposition, I could not be satisfied with my present appearance ; for though’ beauty, “ when least adorned, is adorned the most,” and handsome young women look sweetly in this uniform, it adds considerably to the plainness of my features, and the natural gloom of my complexion : but it is no longer in the eyes of mortality that I would appear to advantage—my soul shall wear the wedding-garment, and I will be the bride of Him that made me what I am.*
I cannot, however, quit this subject without telling you, that the very things which are most unbecoming to me, would abundantly increase the loveliness of |tour person ; nor do I know a sister in the whole house who would excel you.
You will, perhaps, wonder I have written thus far without one mention of he little Niobe,—What I felt for her,-Eliza, I now find was compassion—her ^ears are most unexpectedly wiped away, and instead of the touching countenance she used to present me with, I see joy in every feature ; though her poor *oul is in a most alarming state, as she wilfully shuts her ears to every friendly udmonition.
Not but I confess she has cause for rejoicing, as the father and mother she has so long deplored, are arrived in Ireland ; and though it is not probable she will very speedily see them, yet their safety must give her unspeakable satisfaction. The truth, indeed, is, that I cannot hold the converse with her, though I wish her well, I was accustomed to; for her heart, where the Romish religion is the question, is harder than Pharaoh’s. I am certain, also, that she spares no pains to prejudice you against my choice, and to divide friends is an outrage of the deepest dye on the laws of morality.—It is, moreover, hoped, by the whole convent, that she will soon be called to England ; for her tricks, which I found so pleasing, have been detected, and souls have actually been undone by them ; for they will not submit to the priests through her persuasions.	,
Your last letter was the picture of spleen and groundless disgust—not a trait of my Eliza’s softness, sweetness, or ingenuousness, did it contain—I was sorry for it, because I had painted you what I had found you in our day of harmony, when with a silken rein I could have guided you at will.
1 had you prayed for last night by a whole army of saints, and have great faith in the efficacy of their prayers :—let me not meet with a disappointment !
I must entreat you to send me your determination as early as you can ; for if you fail to indulge me with a parting interview, it will cost me some pangs to g »t over the stroke of unkindness : yet disguise not the barrier the arch* fiend may set up between us—to know our danger is the next thing to bein<f gu irded against it, and to feel it the next step to flying it for ever—my arms shall be open to receive you, as open as you will find those of your God.
*	Maria.
• This Is the blasphemous cant which the priests and nans teach the ignorant thoughtless Novice, who is not aware that the nhrase truly means only this—
1 should be the paramour of the Jesuit priest, who will make me what I shall be.LETTER XIII.
Expostulation.
ELIZA FREEMAN TO MARIA GERARD.
BaTH.
However the secret may be hid from yourself, it is apparent to me that the religion you have embraced contracts, uot enlarges, the heart and teaches its votaries to sacrifice every finer feeling on the altar of superstition :—that your suspense, however, may terminate respecting me, I take this method to inform you, life, which is only another name for social satisfaction and usefulness, has more charms for me than ever.
Were things in a convent what they seem, and the great Author of the Universe the ultimatum with every heart, 1 would be the first to exchange earthly for heavenly joys ; but lie assured, when the veil is withdrawn, you will regret the pleasures of friendship, and find that to do our duty in the state of existence to which we are called, I mean, in the bosom of society, is an actual, an essential part of our devotion ; for it is a cheerful acquiescence with, and a lively approbation of, the will of Providence.
I admire the thought in the Spectator of erecting a temple of praise— prayers are selfish, and often result from the timidity of our natures; hut praise is the incense of gratitude, and must be acceptable with Him, whose bounty is intended for our happiness, and whose loving kindness never fails.
As to Niobe, what has she done, what crime committed, to forfeit your good opinion?—She is too volatile to think, and too innocent to err. Yet, because she will not subscribe to what she cannot comprehend, or practice what is repugnant to her sense of things, she is to be an alien to your affections, and weep, in the midst of her joy for the safety of her near and dear relations, the loss of your friendly brow and agreeable conversation,
Had I foreseen the fatal consequence of your journey to France, I would, at all hazards, have followed you ; for I cannot but persuade myself, my personal arguments, if timely administered, would have proved a shield of defence to your heart, though you have been able to despise what I have written in order to repel the poison you have imbibed.
I have no beads to number my prayers by, or furnish me with graceful pauses of devotion ; but, believe me, I shall never offer up a petition to Him, who can alone convince you of your error, without feeling how much I have loved you.
I pity your misfortune in having such a mother—and, oh ! I lament you as dead—dead to my hopes, my affections, my wishes.
May those who are to peruse this letter, advise vou to drop your labours in the cause of piety, where I am the object;—for a Protestant I have lived, and a Protestant I will die, and to my latest moment pray for all orders and degrees of men, whether Jews, Papists, Mahometans, or Pagans; nor ever once ho
brought to renounce the religion of charity. Maria! is it possible you can
resolve we shall never meet again ?	Eliza.NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
27
LETTER XIV.
Jesuit Tricks.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
Your letter has produced a very contrary effect to my hopes—but I am a novice in these matters—and the deluded Miss Gerard is exhorted to overcome her attachment to you as the first proof of her being qualifiod for the election she now aspires to.
I met her this morning in the cloisters; her eye spoke watching, and her faded cheek that all was not well within—but enthusiasm will conquer, and we shall lose our friend. I wish she was in America ! It should go hard but I would do violence to her person, to preserve her mind from the worm that never dies—for whether it is repentance of crimes, or repentance of choice, will signify little when the peace becomes a prey to it.
I caught her hand as she passed me, and pressed it to my lips : she lifted up her eyes immediately to Heaven, as if to implore support—fumbled for her beads, and left me, repeating a Pater Noster.—But she was soon re-confirmed in her holy resolutions by the sisterhood, while I dropped the unavailing tear over the dissolution of a friendship I had flattered myself would have ended only with our lives.
She will be a dangerous creature when she once becomes a nun—her manner is so winning, her address so persuasive—for no heart but yours and mine will be able to resist her eloquence. I did intend to have quitted tho convent so soon as she took the veil—but now that I have no hopes of being restored to the arms of my father and mother, though 1 have the unspeakable happiness to know they are safe, every self-concern is swallowed up in friendship, and I will not leave her, until I see her, not only fixed beyond recal; but how her change of condition suits her temper, and answers her expectations.
Several engines have again been set to work, in order to get at my mind, since M iss Gerard has so unfortunately led the way—but I defy the “ devil and all his works,” and will remain obdurate—this people’s word for constancy of soul—to the last.
I begin to shoot up, and shall not much longer be distinguished, at least with propriety, by the epithet little ; but Heaven forbid any womanly appearance or behaviour should be assumed by me in this house—for priests have eves, and however they may overlook humble shrubs, they gaze in a most extraordinary manner on well-grown damsels, whenever they meet with them; and never rest until they have gratified their lustful desires.
I have been tempted, now that jov has deigned once more to visit my bosom, all but where Miss Gerard and my country are concerned, to go, out of frolic, to confession, and beg to be considered as a daughter of the church •—but what, I beseech you, could an innocent girl like myself have to confess, unconnected with the world, and unattached to mankind—save the purloining of a few sugar-plums, or casting the eye of desire on a gay ribbon ?—I protest to you, I know not what I could say, if I was a papist, on such an occasion, unless to lament the ravages of war could be construed into a crime, or the ardent longing for peace to my distracted country could be deemed an offence against heaven.
Can you forgive my trifling thus with my pen1 I am but a young letter-«
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
writer, and have no rule beyond the dictates of my .fancy, or the suggestions of my reason, as they happen to predominate—the one inclines me to be playful, the other bids me be serious bids me feel your condecension in corresponding with	Arabella.
LETTER XY.
The Adieu.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch,
Oxce more, before the never-to-be-recalled step is taken, and that our correspondence, like every other earthly pleasure, must give place to heavenly, I am permitted to bid you adieu—and, in return for your hauteur and severe censures on my conduct, to tell you, that I not only pity and forgive you, but languish for our re-union.
You are displeased that our friendship should be weakened, moderated, by the irrervention of divine love ; yet expect me to be unmoved, at your refusing me one visit, just to view what you reject for a world of folly and misery, and our eternal separation thrown like a feather by you into the scale.
Your person is lovely, your understanding superior to most of your sex; but this is not the age for permanent attachments—should you therefore marry,
Jrou must prepare yourself for out-living your husband’s complaisance, if not lis tenderness ; and to a mind so delicate as yours, the former would prove a heavy grievance.
Marriage is a human, a political, a divine institution, and children the seedlings, the props of society; but as there is a sufficient number of persons in the world to fulfil this duty, I cannot bear to think heaven should be robbed of such a prize as your virgin affection. What husband can love you better than I do, or what children compensate the interrupted communication between you and your God?*
Married people make their cold offering of a moiety of their hearts ; the Unmarried give all; and I leave you to judge which has most merit on high. If I asked vou to become a Jew, or a Mahometan, I should expect you to start aside, and despise my exhortations ; but it is the religion of your forefathers I intreat vou to embrace, unwarped by pride, and unclouded by enthusiasm.
Mr. Freeman is a man of the world, and places all his felicity in worldly thing's; but. you may read in your Bible, that it is required of us to leave father, mother, friends, for Him that demands to be loved in singleness of heart. I am impowered to offer you. if you will only let me see you, an apartment to yourself, and a table in that apartment, where you should be terved as in your castle, without con'rol, invasion, or annoyance whatever.
There was a time, Eliza, when an interview with her you loved would have been deemed cheaply purchased, if at a certainty, and the only possible price by nn Enst-India voyage—will you then persist in refusing to cross a little strait of eight leagues in the cause of friendship? Your new favourite Niot>c shall meet you, and attend you wherever you go ; sleep with you ; eat with you : and you know her obstinacy too well not to be sensible she will much rather harden than soften your heart.
• This in the wicked, unnatural and licentious sorcery which Jesuit Priests teach ths young women who attend auricular Confession*.NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
29
I have no straggle but the loss of you, no regret but you, no pull on my heart-strings but for you.—Oh ! that we might go hand in hand together, and never cast one longing look behind after the vanities, the idle gratifications of mortality.
Your answer to this last, address, remonstrance, and most earnest petition, will be impatiently expected by me; and if it fails of its desired effect, I can only add, farewell! farewell forever !	Maria.
LETTER XVI.
The Portrait.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch,
Miss Gf.kakd has been very uneasy for this week past at not hearing from you. You might, she says, have written, if it was only to deny her request; out your silent contempt is cruel, and wrings her soul, in spite of all the stock of superstition she has acquired. How much does she mistake the state of her heart, when she fancies herself detached from earth and you ! I have the vanity, sometimes, to think she does not behold vie with the Popish indifference she persuades herself; but that, when the flutter of her probation is over, and the irrevocable vow has passed her lips, she will wish she had listened to the voice of her young friend, as she used kindly to call me, and lived to reason and to freedom.
Her mother is most unnaturally eager to push her on, and, that nothing in her power may be wanting, has already furnished her with the little presents it is usual to make the sisterhood on initiation.
A diamond crucifix is to be given to the Superior, which, I have had it hinted to me, should be mine, if I would relax my obduracy; for these people will buy souk at any price, and are often, in their turn, the dupes of artful tcmporisers : but peace b..> with them, if such wretches can have peace, and be their treasures unenvied—their gifts ever spurned by me ! Liberty of conscience is the birth-right of every individual, and I will not, Esau-like, set it up to sale for all their gems.
A few evenings ago, I stole gently to our friends apartment, and found her on her knees, ejaculating before a mezzotinto crucifix. She was not disturbed by my presence, though I came up quite to the table, until, taking advantage of a particular sentence, on uttering of which her eyes were turned up and fixed for a second or two, like another Magdalen’s, I slipped your miniature, which I had received only a few days before, between her and the object of her adoration, and thereby gave her such mortal offence that I was turned out of the room, and the door bolted upon me. I, however, left the little image to plead for itself; and, if I have any skill in physiognomy, it did raise a tender conflict in her soul, which nothing but superstitious enthusiasm could nllny ; but priestcraft, like an eddy, bears down all before it, and I fear you have transmitted me your resemblance in vain.
Her dress is preparing—I mean the dress in which she is to be sacrificed— but I am not thought worthy to behold it; the sight is reserved for purer eyes than mine. She is, however, kind in her unkindness; for I should weep over it, as I formerly did for my distressed father and mother, and st.l frequently do for the miseries of my beloved country.30
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
But you have given me new life by telling me you hope matters are in train for an accommodation. We Americans are loyal, and therefore deeply wounded and provoked at being left a prey to rapacious or, at best, cruelly misjudging ministers. The lower orders of the people in England are clamorous lor their liberties, but stand tamely by whilst their fetters are forging. This encouraged the men, who knew not the complexion of us Americans, to conclude a few shots fired over our heads would scare us into submission, and bend our shoulders to the yoke of despotism; but we wore not our daggers in our mouths; all was humble solicitation to the throne, till hope itself was lost, and no second choice was left us, and you see the melancholy consequence.
You will pardon my pen for thus running retrogade to your concerns; but, as out of the abundance of the heart the lips will speak, so out of the abundance of the feelings my pen will have its lapses.	Arabella.
LETTER XVI.
Education.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
Miss Gerard is lost. This orning, though, with averted face and visible agitation, she returned me your picture. “ 1 am enjoined this act of self-denial,” said she, “ or I believe I never could have parted with Nancy’s likeness, notwithstanding her cruel labours to erase the original from my breast.” I would have replied, but she was evidently afraid of trusting herself on the tender subject, and hastily retired.
It is the friendship I feel for you, though personally unknown, to solicit the indulgence of retaining the miniature as your gift; but if there is truth on earth, I speak one when I assure you that I love you both for Miss Gerard’s sake and your own.
A new anthem is composing, for our day of tribulation, on the words— “ Many daughters have done wisely, but thou excellest them all,” and they tell me the music will be very fine—I do not doubt it—to swell the pomp of human sacrifice. I fear, if I am admitted into the choir, my eves will be so deluged with tears that I shall not be able to distinguish one object from another, and my cars so dead to the voice of the charmer that, to me, all will be discord around.
I rejoice unspeakably at your constancy in resisting all Miss Gerard’s soft persuasions to visit her—for spells would have beset you—your feet and heart would have been entangled, and a fresh source for my tears opened upon me; though indeed, I may almost speak of myself in the language of Eloisa ; for to “ read and weep” seems now all I have to do.
A whole cargo of Romish Protestants, alias scholars from this Convent, were shipped off yesterday for England. Cheapside and Gracechurch-sireet will be wonderfully improved by their improvements; for the poison of erroneous and licentious tenets is lodged in their souls—extract it who can.
1 asked a little girl on the low pension, the other day, what she had learned by visiting France. She replied, with great naicc/te, to eat soup and tell her leads. “ What,” rejoined I, “ is your father a papist then?” “ No, Miss, both my father and mother go to Wapping-church every Sunday, and will rrnke me go there too when I return home; but what of that ? I shall never forv ’*NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
31
my Ave Marias, or my Pater Nosters, and can be of what religion 1 please, you know, in iny heart.”
How well instructed these poor things are ! for this is the sense of them all. But I ain astonished they are not cautioned to keep their own secrets—I forget, however, that I am now telling tales out of school, and that her private sentiments were only spoken to a sister scholar, who might very fairly be supposed to have made similar advances in her love and practice of ungodliness. The Spartans and old Romans knew the importance of giving the children of their subjects a proper .education, and we of the Western continent are humble imitators of their conduct in that respect, and therefore we find the education of youth under both those powers was constituted an article of state policy, in consequence of which, as a British poet says of a British family,
“ The men were ail valiant,
The women all virtuous.”
Yet, though it must be owned you have many salutary laws to protect your manufactures, and preserve the national proprietorship in many branches of commerce, your people, without let or molestation, send their children, the most valuable commodity, not only into an enemy’s country, but into the bosem of a priestcraft that militates in every particular against the interest and happiness of the immediate relations of the present and rising generations. As this part of the evil, however, is sometimes concealed, this point of conduct might be in a small degree palliated :—but the morals are voluntarily given up; for it is notorious, that with a knowledge of the French language a taste for French vices is imbibed, French propensities, and French prejudices—and the venomous infection spreads itself throughout all ranks of the community, either from the address, enthusiasm, or casual connexions of each individual.
Arabella.
Our friend, in all those spirits superstition gives, is now entered into her last week. She still avoids all conversation with me ; for as a proof of the conquest she has gained over herself, she meets my eye more frequently than usual, and affects to view ine with unshaken attention.
It was moved, it seems, in an assembly of my enemies, that I should be excluded from the chapel on the day of days, lest my distress should be fortnd contagious, and ruffle the new convert; hu*. as virtue is not virtue for nothing, it was at length determined, that, if I chose to be present, I shall be indulged, in order that I may be witness of her triumph over the passions, and the firmness with which she makes a sacrifice of every thing to the Priests and Nuns.
The dress she is to wear has been publicly exhibited, and is a kind of robe-coat—such as your tragedy queens strut their little hour in on the stage—of puckered white satin, with shoes the same ; and her hair is to be ornamented with the nicest care—but when the vow is passed, the benediction received, nnd the sacrifice concluded, she is to be led to the Sanctum Sanctorum of the sisterhood, arrayed in like manner with *them, and supported by a pair of thr.n —and then re-conducted to the altar ij finish the wicked raree-shoic,—as
LETTER XVIII.
Preparation.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.32
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
I should call every ceremony of this nature, if an amiable individual in general and the beloved friend of our hearts in this particular instance, was not the fata^fool of it.
I have at last from desperation, acquired that state of mind which, I believe, passes in the world for philosophy ; and very good philosophy it is to bend beneath the inevitable blast. Distraction and suicide are born of the contrary complexion; besides which, many a head that has meekly bowed to the will of heaven, has by its blessed, its gracious favour, been raised again to liope and joy.
A cell is fitted up, I am told, for the devoted one, and a taper provided, by the light of which she is to worry the crucifix with her prayers, and on her knees fight out her salvation: nor are any appendages of outrageous mummery omitted; as if it could be acceptable that the creature should scourge itself, or inflict punishments which nature and the1 Creator never intended. It seems to me like taking the reins out of the hands of Providence, that wisely dashes the cup of comfort with an antidote against the poison it contains, and disappoints those wishes that would lead down to sorrow and repentance, leaving all the rest open to our free election and regulation. I shall, indeed, derive one advantage by dwelling within this house ; for I have contracted such a habit of tracing the action up to its remotest source or spring, at least so far as human discernment reaches, that I shall not easily be imposed upon when I launch again on the ocean of life. The bell rings to call the nuns and their sister-elect to prayer. Oh ! how frail is resolution and delusive opinion ! I weep, and all my boasted philosophy is no more. Such are the contradictory emotions of my Heart, that I now wish to fly, and am anxious to be a spectator of a scene no power on earth can prevent being exhibited at our expense, the preparations being advanced so far beyond the point of probability, or, surrounded as she is by a host of foes, possibility of dissuasion. That you have escaped their toils is my only consolation : we will meet, if not forbidden, and indulge ourselves on such sorrowful subjects as our mutual knowledge of the merit we have been robbed of will suggest to us. Oh ! do not refuse me your friendship, let the change or chance be what it may ; for if sighing for your sighs, and weeping for your tears, deserves a kind return, you ought to be wholly mine.
My father and mother continue to tell me, it is their opinion, that, since I have been introduced into this convent, it will be best fur me to remain here until they may find rest for their weary feet, and a paternal roof to shelter my young head ; for, like the poor Jews of old, they are despoiled of their possessions, and driven out from their native land, never, perhaps, to have the former restored to them, or to know the joy of revisiting the latter. Yet, are not their precious lives granted to my prayers, and dare I murmur where I ought to adore in thankfulness to the latest moment of my existence ?
When Miss Gerard is no longer one of this world, 1 shall seldom behold her ; for it is only those nuns that mix in the schools, who have been received on a footing like that of your foundations in England, or for a subsistence. How the others spend their time I have never been able to discover; hut if appearances were not above measure deceitful, I should conclude superstition to be at once the business and pleasure of their days. But I want faith in all these respects; for enthusiasm is too high a key to be always kept up, and relaxation as natural and as necessary a relief to the soul of a nun, as any other human being. O! that people of understanding can be so absurd, nay wicked, as to labour at extinguishing that first of all blessings, sensibility; and deny themselves that first of all enjoyments, society, which is the end of our being, the source of our happiness, and both a moral and divine indulgence to the rational part of mankind	Arabella.LETTER XIX.
Taking the Veil
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
All is now over, and the once sprightly, friendly, amiable Miss Gerard, has cut herself off from every earthly concern, and every earthly felicity. The choir was crowded beyond all example, and many more priests assisted at the ceremony than is usual on such occasions—for it is a glorious sight to them, for an English lady, bred in Protestantism, and in the bloom of life, not only to embrace their faith, but be wedded to the Roman Priests from deliberate choice, self-dictated election, and unbiassed conduct. This is their triumphant language, this the point on which they ring such abundant and heart-wounding changes, that I am often obliged to fly to my chamber to relieve my oppressed bosom.
When notice was given that the procession was at the gates of the choir, I started and trembled: the nuns with songs of gladness^nd much in the coronation-style, as represented in our newspapers, prec^^Bher—they were going to seal the salvation of a new convert, and add anOtnpr virgin, as they boasted, to the throne of heaven.—Thus far my senses - ujBied—but the moment I perceived her approach, my sight failed me, I failrod, and was conveyed to my own apartment with as little bustle as possible, and before I could well be said to be recovered, the vow had passed her lips, the insapera-ble barrier was set up between us and her for ever. I picked out of one of the scholars, that she looked up to where I sat, changed coloffr on my illness, and stopped for half-a-secorid ; but the loud organ, and pealj^^ hosannas roused her to the necessary pitch, and she proved all their bajjPBpus, hypocritical hearts wished her. Two days are now elapsed ; but sneif invisible, though I have traversed every spot on which I ever met the sisterhood since* my entrance into the convent,	•
When I reflect that the step she has taken is irrevocable, I rejoice, rather than lament, we have been spared a rencounter; for the idea I have of true friendship is, that it will promote the happiness of its object, though to the wounding of its own feelings.—May, then, the illusion continue ! for so long, and so long only, will she find what she sought for in the sisterhood and the hypocritical exercises of their deceitful characters.
Another English gi||, of small fohune, captivated with the splendour of the show, and the applaulbsbcstowed on our lost friend, has solicited to be put on her noviciate—but these artful people know when to deny, and when to gratify, themselves. Weremese events frequent, their schools would decline: they, therefore, contrive, to root a Jove of their supersti ions in the young heart, by persuading such as they do not think it safe to make devotees of, to return to the world, and do their God all the service in their power; alias, poison every mind they can come at—a conduct which never fails to produce the desired effect.
I am stronglv tempted, as a means of opening a communication between me and Miss Gerard, to pretend an inclination to become a proselyte, for the short time I may now have to remain under this diabolical roof, and deceive the deceivers : for these people, from their over-eagerness to add to the number of souls, as their phras« is, are the easiest duped of anv people ®n earth Was I then only to collect my features into an affectation of 3d move about with “ measured step and slow,” I should soon be ../d extolled to the skies. But I am restrained from my frolic, by .ucapacity to determine whether the mockery would not rather fall on religion than their hypocrisy; and whether I should not offend the Being I reverence, by this mode of ridiculing man. Besides, it might be dangerous, for who knows how far Heaven in its wrath might abandon me to the tempter, if, like a moth about a candle, I daringly played about temptation ?—Ah! that thought has decided the point at once, nor will I venture to provoke or brave my destiny.
Yet it is a most mortifying thing to my unbounded curiosity, to be confined without the pale of knowledge, the free-masonry of convents ;—but though I panted ever so ardently after the secret, 1 will not even expose myself to the hazard of paying the preposterous price of initiation to obtain it, if it was only for the love I bear my country. Nuns cannot transport themselves to their natal spot, they cease to be moveables, and learn to think, to act, to live, from the lessons of their priests, whose interest it is to hold their understanding in fetters, to mislead their hearts, and to entangle them irrevocably in corruption and deceit.
Could I deliver myself from one conviction, I should be tolerably happy —but if our friend has not already, she must repent the choice she has made. What cold inter^urse will she meet with to what she has experienced in your friendship^^^what regrets, what compulsions must she not endure !
It is the nulir^Vf the French nation to shut up the superabundant part of a family if|aujonvent, as without this check to propagation, their noblesse would dwindle)^ bourgeoisie, and all ranks of people become so numerous as to be ready to eat one another. Moreover, their fasts have more of the statesman than the ecclesiastic in their institution, in order to guard the subjects of an overgrown monarchy from the disgrace of having the mark of famine set upon them in unfavourable seasons. Thus they have the address to cover al^^;ir waiits, and all their vices, with the specious veil of superstitious ceremony, as they do their follies with the gaudy veil of fashion ; and they	dexterous,	in most instances, as to hide the iniquity of both
the one and the other from their own hearts.	Arabella
LETTER XX.
Difficulties.	^
ELIZA FREEMAN TO ARABELLA SMITH.
\
Ba ra
1 am unspeakably indebted to your kind and unremitting attention to me, as well as to my lost friend.
Our parting had something ominous in it—she was torn from me without notice or preparation ; and her heart was so quickly, so instantaneously won by the fatal superstitions she now professes, that I had not time to caution, to protect her against its insinuations. You remark, very justly, that the softness of her nature made her an easy prey, in conjunction with the unatural treatment she received from her mother. Oh ! I pity as abundantly as 1 lament the dire fascination, and except yourself, will never more enter into a tender friendship with any one.Every obliging wish of your heart respecting me shall be accomplished ; you shall bring me acquainted with your honoured relation: and when I have a home, for in rny father’s house I cannot call myself independent, I will intreat the happiness of your company.
But much as I should rejoice to see you, I cannot conquer a foolish, fond desire that you should continue where you are, until you can get at a certainty with regard to our friend’s sentiments of her new condition.—And yet to what purpose ? To know her wretched, would aggravate our distress without saving her a single pang.—I know not how to act, but inclination will evermore take the lead of reason; and therefore, unless absolutely recalled, let me intreat you to have the resolution to wait until she becomes visible, and you may judge from her countenance what passes in her heart, for they never could contradict each other.
I have seen Miss Gerard’s mother; she is gay and unconcerned; she would have spoken to me, but my heart rejected the overture and retired much agitated. Had she felt her daughter’s perfections as I do, they had never been buried in a cloister—but her vanity was the bane of our happiness ; for instead of rejoicing in the merits of her child, her second self,
“ She sicken’d at all triumphs but her own,”
and was eager to lose a rival in the person of our friend, by betraying her into the sacrifice she has made. But she is in the high road to punishment : the man she has married, and intrusted with her whole fortune, is very agreeable, but dissipated and unprincipled. They live at a violent rate ; and though she apprehends it not, it is highly probable, in an hour of security, they may be tumbled from their eminence into obscurity, and all those horrors which a change from prosperity to adversity must bring to such a mind as hers.
From the liberality of your sentiments, you will find it hard to believe, that such a woman as Mrs. Gerard can exist; but to the dishonour and reproach of the sex, there is a species of females, who, having been once, young, will needs be always so, and feel any praise or approbation bestowed on a woman, as an indirect impeachment of their own charms and claims to consideration and homage. I thank Heaven for turning my soul to a less absurd and ungenerous key.
I will now give you a proof of my friendship, by explaining to you what I mean by a hint which has fallen from my pen, that in my father’s house, I am not sufficiently mistress of myself to receive even the friend of my heart. My father has, within these few days, told me that he wishes I would turn my thoughts to a change of condition, and directs my choice to a man I can never approve. We are not yet come to an eclaircissement; so I have only my fears at present to tell me what will be the consequence of my refusal.
I have found him greatly indulgent from my infancy to this period ; but in these points the best of fathers sometimes depart from their characters, and insist upon implicit obedience where God and Nature only meant they should have a restraining or regulating voice : for though I think it a violation of the freedom of the mind for fathers to force their children into matrimony; I also think it unnatural, and an offence against every moral obligation, for children to dispose of themselves without the parental sanction ; and these tenets will be my rule of conduct; so that there can be little danger of my making an ungrateful return to any lenity or yieldingness that may be shewn me in this particular and important article of my happiness.Maria has, in my hour of need, cast me off, or into her bosom I should have poured my sorrows, if sorrow is in store for me, and from her judicious pen have derived consolation and support—yet, let her steps have been what they may, in that, from mistaking artifice for sensibility, deceit for honesty, she has been induced to throw herself into the iron arms of a convent, and dig herself a premature grave—we must not forsake her. Quicken, therefore, if possible, for my sake, your diligence to discover if aught can be done to promote her convenience, or soften her bondage; and should she, at length, so far relax her austerities as to write to me, as my heart whispers me she will one day do, be you the blessed medium of our epistolary intercourse, and your compassion, charity and generosity, will be their own reward. Watch then every favourable crisis, and improve it to the utmost. Would she only consent to write to me, it would, in the scale of my happiness, be a diadem to me; a kind of resurrection of her I esteem: nor until I know this bliss unattainable, or that your goodness has put it in a train, can I wish to see you, unless your own affairs make your coming to England indispensable : but be assured, the moment you have done me this right worthy service, I will entreat as much of your company as can be enjoyed by persons living under different roofs, and be every thing you can ask or desire, to supply the loss you have sustained.
Eliza.
LETTER XXI.
The Change.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
I am all obedience to your wishes—for commands is a word unfound in the vocabulary of friendship. By a letter I have just received from my father and mother, it is now left wholly to my option, either to remain here or go to London to a kind relative whom they have engaged to receive me. I shall, therefore, have it in my power to remove myself whenever I am so pleased, which shall not be the case whilst my continuance spares you one sigh, or promises in the remotest degree to be useful to our friend.
I am become an adept in their priestly science of Jesuit dissimulation. I never mention Miss Gerard’s name but in private to Mrs. Ashley, who is so disgusted with the convent for entrapping this object of our tender concern, that she is casting about for a new situation.
I have the pleasure, amid all my other mortifications, to see this amiable woman’s health returning, and can visit her, at stolen periods, without hearing the sighs of sickness, or beholding its fearful ravages in her very agreea-able countenance. She was so ill and low, that I begged she might not be told Miss Gerard intended, or had taken the veil, except in a prepared way by myself; for I knew it would lie a most affecting piece of news to her, as she loves her unfeignedly: nor need I describe to you bow we spent the interview, in which I broke the intelligence, like a clap of thunder, after every possible softening, on her head—though she had seen enough to alarm her before she was confined by hor indisposition to her chamber.
* * * * * *
Read with astonishment, what I have now to communicate:—how happy Iam that I did not despatch my letter as I intended.! for it contained only assurances of vigilance you could not doubt, and friendship, you have kindly told me, you are so just to me as to rely upon—but read what my pen is eager to present you with !
Sauntering an hour ago through the cloisters, as the most likely place of all others to gain a sight of our friend, a troop of Nuns, among the number of which was Miss Gerard, rushed by me. I remained fixed as a statue, until I felt my hand gently pressed by her, and perceived a tear trembling in her eye. I had, nevertheless, the presence of mind to remember we were not alone, and only looked after her so long as a trace of her remained.
Alas! but two months devoted, and already disenchanted! But Heaven’s will be done ! I shill often revisit this spot, and if possible discover her cell; when my next care shall.be to furnish her with pen, ink, and paper, that she may write all she will condescend to communicate of her melancholy disappointment. Your fears, as well as mine, were prophetic; though the comparison will not hold good between them; for yours were all conjectures, mine were founded on demonstration.
Let us not, however, anticipate the evil that has not reached us;—what I construe repentance, may be only tender regard : it is, however, plain she has discovered that all is not sin the voice of the priest may pronounce such; that all is not holiness which Priests and Nuns teach and practice; and that she is resolved to renew our friendship. If this should merely be the case, all we can now wish for is accomplished—though had I vowed to lead a life of angelic purity and peace, and been deceived into an opinion that it was attainable, or more properly, the purchase of that vow, I should think, the instant I discovered the cheat, that there was more virtue in the breach than in the observance of it. But my sense of things is widely different from these enthusiasts, and we must rest the resolution of all our doubts and conclusions wholly on herself.
The weather was favourable to the salute of the hand our friend honored me with—for the arches of these cloisters are so constructed as to “ cause a noonday night,” and it was so cloudy, that I am certain no one could perceive what passed.
I have already begun three several letters, and as often burnt them, to intreat she will unbosom herself—but on telling Mrs. Ashley the circumstance, she has convinced me I had much better leave her mind to its own workings, lest I should alarm her, and lock up, instead of exciting, her confidence.
I should be happy, in this exigence, to receive your directions for my conduct, but fear I shall receive them too late; for if she has resolved to break her silence, she will certainly avail herself of the first opportunity.
You may assure yourself there is more vice, more unhappiness, and more irreligion, in a convent, than in the most bustling scenes of life; and if my presentiment does not deceive me, we are about to come at a melancholy confirmation of this truth.*
Let nothing be wanting on your part to strengthen the endeavours T will exert in this common cause of our friendship. I shall be for rending the temple, and bearing her off by violence, if I find she is unhappy; for I have a turn, you must know, for chivalry, and had I been a man, I should surely have been a knight-errant.	Arabella.
• “ The interior of a female convent;” said a young woman who was intimately acquainted with its character and sisterhood ; “ is the sepulchre of goodness, and the castle of misery. Within its ungodly domain, youth withers; knowledge is extinguished ; usefulness is entombed ; and religion expires—while Roman Priests revel in their atrocious debauchery, and murder the victims of their insatiable sensuality.”3»
NUNNERIES IN FRANCE.
LETTER XXII.
The Poisoned Nuns.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
No sentinel ever kept more zealous or vigilant watch and ward than I have done, in order to catch, once more, the eye of our friend—but in vain. I have seen her repeatedly, but her downcast looks told me it was not the good time for explanation.
A day of fasting and impious humiliation is at hand for the martyrdom of one of their legendary saints, when, perhaps, I shall meet, in sackcloth, her who has no crime but fatal credulity to charge herself with.
As to the austerities, except in appearances, they are not, it seems, imposed ; but rods are conveyed into every separate cell, as a hint how they may voluntarily please the God of love and mercy.
* * * * * * * 
The eclaircissement is not far distant, for I have spoken with our penitent —have heard her confess herself wretched—undone was her word—and have obtained a promise of a letter.
Undone !—How ? Deceived and abused beyond all remedy! How shall ] rein in my quick and wounded spirit, and wear content in my face, when 1 have scorpion stings in my heart. But I will be calm for her sake ; I will conquer my impatience of resentment, and not, in an hour of need, from a mistaken—an ill-governed zeal, disqualify myself for the offices she may wish to engage me in.
How tedious will the hours appear, and with what agitation shall I not approach her ! I trust she will date her letter from her cell, that I may, at least, sigh as I pass by it, to think what a treasure it contains, of which these ministers of darkness keep the key. Oh ! be assured, romances are only witty and sarcastic parables; for the giant’s den—the monster’s cavern—the distressed damsel, &c., pictured therein, are taken originally from, and are, even at this day, found in Convents. The magicians that lie in wait for the innocent and unwary, at the doors of the fatal castles, are they not the likenesses of these lady abbesses, who, with smooth and dissembling speech, allure them into the gripe of their lords,.and tickle only to wound?
I am called to prayer—I will obey; and Miss Gerard’s deliverance from the hands of her oppressors shall begin and close my supplications.
* * * * * * * *
Is there on earth aught more valuable than a diligent and faithful friend ? I never felt my consequence till now—now that I am constituted the go-between on this important occasion. Here, then, inclosed is your letter. It was delivered to me unsealed, which I understood as a tacit permission to peruse it. I have perused it, and shudder. Read it.
My Nancy !—
For once more I will call you mine—What a fatal monument I am constituted of the sin of credulity !
My error was, however, an innocent—I will 3ay, an amiable one. Disgusted with the world, I flew to the bosom of my God, or to an asylum I conceived was his image here below; but I have been cruelly and basely deceivedinstead of the soft peace I promised myself—instead of the divine intercourse and heavenly love I expected to enjoy, I find myself cast among the high-priests of Baal, and the everlasting companion of women with worldly and licentious passions in their hearts.
I have had some severe conflicts before I could resolve to speak the wound my peace has sustained. Nicbe—how prophetic were her fears 1—how affectionate her endeavours to save me from this wreck ! I kneel, and weep, and pray; but, oh! Nancy, my prayers—my humiliations proceed from far different motives than what are imagined; and I feel myself, as far as the world’s opinion goes, the very “ wretch” who
 “ believed the spouse of God in vain
for every bell that calls the sisterhood together, proclaims some new attack on the person of the vestal.
I have often, in our happy days, weakly sighed that my features and complexion were not as lovely as your own, but I now rejoice in every unfavourable particular ; for the ivant of personal charms is the only protection a convent knows from diabolical libertinism.
The beautiful girl who, infatuated like myself, led the way to my fatal exclusion from the world, is bowed down to the earth with disgust. We have exchanged significant, sympathetic looks, for we are the chief victims of our own folly—the other nuns, from disappointed passion, wounded reputation, or ruined relations, having sought, for a hiding-place, the house we hoped to find a paradise. But my bitterest reflections have one blessed alleviation; for, had you yielded to my intreaties and fixed your abode under this roof, I should,
before now, nave seen you—O ! horror and infamy !—the prey of such-----------------
I have not words strong enough to characterize their baseness, and must leave your imagination, if possible, to fill up the hiatus.
As to the act of confession, which I thought must be balm to the afflicted heart, it is only practised as a cover for assignation, and a medium for becoming acquainted with the charms of the sisterhood. Mine is always short; I am enjoined to banish the world from my affections, subdue my weakness, break down every hold of carnality, under which profane terms our friendship is alluded to, and forget whatever was dear to me.
I found myself a visionary a very few hours after my admission to these forbidden recesses—the angelic sweetness of the sisterhood was put on, and put off*, with their robes for the day; their rejoicings mechanical, their piety assumed ; bursts of sorrow annoyed my ear, and footsteps of men alarmed my soul. All dark and private are the works of wickedness, none but the object of visitation knowing who comes or goes.
A few nights ago, when unavailing repentance kept me waking, I was scared by the deep groans which issued from a neighbouring cell: I arose, and forgetting every self-concern, endeavoured to discover the unhappy one.
I opened a door, and found a young nun in great extremity—a dark lanthorn was by her bed-side, from which a faint glimmer of light was suffered to emit.
Tell me,” said I, “ the cause of your distress—I am unpractised in the ways of the house, can be secret, and will dare to assist you. I am the sister last received into this mansion.”
She pressed my hand in unutterable anguish—“ I am past all human aid,” said she, “ and my sin will be its own punishment: the contents of that phial, conveyed to me by the author of all my calamities, axe now corroding my heart-strings.—Guess, if you can, the motive—I have been betrayed, everyway betrayed, and die, that the reputation of the convent may live.” Herecold sweats and strong spasms seized her—I would have called for assistance, but she withheld me.
“ Ah ! no,” said she, “ it is too late, and I must die—this is the fatal reward. But the God of heaven is just; he will punish, he will pardon. To your cell, thou yet uncorrupted one ! nor lay the foundation of your own ruin, by being discovered to have a knowledge of mine—Go, and if you would escape from a bad world, die ! for there is no refuge for youth and innocence here, but in the grave.”
She now remained silent for some time: I wiped her face with my handker-chief, and supported her head with my arm.
“ I have written,” said she, “ my life, at stolen periods, and wished to send it into the world as a warning voice; but it has been carried away from my cell by the infernal hero of it; and, indeed, could I have put it into' your hands, it was too imperfect, and too dangerous to be kept by you within these walls: and what could it have told you more than you behold, that the wretch, thus untimely sunk to the grave, had once youth and innocence—was betrayed—is undone—and dies! Yet leave me to do as I was commanded, to die alone, for my last breath now trembles on my lips—fly, or you are lost!” Convulsions then succeeded, and her reason was quite overborne, and, feeling I know not what of fearful apprehension, I returned to my cell, and waited to hear her dissolution announced.
The next morning the whole sisterhood were summoned to pray for the dear departed one, whose virtues had sealed her salvation ; and the unhappy wretch that was inhumanly dispatched by her seducer, to conceal the consequences of her seduction, was sung a virgin, fit for the congregation of heavenly virgins, and the companion of the mother of God.
But let me warn you not to confound your ideas of these seminaries with all deluded professors of Romanism ; for numbers, like myself, are victims to their own confidence; and I even yet think there are some sincere Priests in the church ; but their religion is such a cloak for hypocrisy, and the vicious have such opportunities of practising vice that, in spite of every tie, I weep that I cannot repose the head of disappointment on the bosom of friendship.
I have, however, one earnest request to make to you. Let the affection you bore me, be transferred to our common friend, the generous, the humane, the well-judging Miss Smith, who was so greatly assisting in your preservation, and spared no pains to save me. Adieu ! and once again behold the signature of	Your lost	Maria.
********
is it not dreadful, that such nurseries of infamy should stand ? But let me, after the example of our unhappy friend, not forget to be just—the worthy are the prey of the wicked, for so well is the farce of godliness kept up, that parents, in the kindness and caution of their hearts, force their innocent, accomplished, and beloved offspring, into the jaws of the fiend, and to the end of their lives continue to congratulate themselves on the care they have taken of both their souls and bodies.
M iss Gerard’s account, however, exceeds the utmost Teachings of my imagination. Intrigue, I was convinced, dwelt within a convent; but who could have thought of murder ?
I do not now wonder that every avenue to the dark recesses of those doleful mansions are so diligently guarded under the mysterious veil of superabundant sanctity. Had it been possible for me to penetrate the infernal shades, 1 had before this been sacrificed also to the reputation of its inhabitants.
Nevertheless, for my friend’s safety, I have used all the needful caution I
k•hould have despised for my own, and never even look dissatisfied, though my heart is bursting with honest indignation.—Is there nothing that can be done, nothing that can be attempted to check the career of these monsters ? Alas ! no—as the dead nun affirmed, the grave alone can rescue the innocent from the hands of the destroyer. .	Arabella
LETTER XXIII.
Nuns.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
Another letter! Miss Gerard is much relieved by this communication of her sorrows, and will patiently wait her dissolution.
My dear Nancy,
The beautiful nun I have so frequently mentioned to you, has, at length, broken the ice—and I feel that in a cloister I shall once more taste the plea-sures of friendship.
She has promised to steal to my cell at some unsuspected hour, and open her whole soul to me. Her persecutions, she tells me, have been great, but she seems not to apprehend violence, and will, therefore, I trust, like myself, go unpolluted to the grave.
Alt! how I sit and recollect the innocent amusements of our youth, when liberty and peace dwelt with us, and every art of hypocrisy was unknown !— What a sad change of scene do I experience! Here is, indeed, a wide range for the sisterhood—gardens, as I formerly told you, laid out in a sweet taste, and companions from morning to evening; but what companions their own account of themselves will best determine.
A neat, genteel, hut pale-looking girl, not yet two-and-twenty, frequently visited me : she spoke of the world wi h ardour, of solitude with disgust. 1 observed, it was strange she should have thrown herself into so opposite a situation to her taste.—She replied, she was compelled to it.
Her father, she informed me, is a man of some little rank at court, but of small fortune: he married a woman who brought him barely sufficient to support the style of living she had been accustomed to, and he beheld a growing family with mortification and alarms.
Five boys have grown up to maturity, and two girls, the youngest of which she had the misfortnne to be; but though only suffered to mix in polite scenes at her school intervals, and convents art* the only female schools in France, she was perceived by her friends to be forming a tender intimacy with a youth of good » family, who had no provision to hope for, but through the interest of his relations at court, which was at best but a precarious dependence.
The intention of burying her in a convent was not announced until the young man had the courage to ask her father’s consent to their nuptials.
This produced an eclaircissement and she was commanded to repair to a Parisian nunnery, and begin her noviciate ; for that there was no living on love in France, or suffering two handsome beggars to marry and disgrace their families.
To the nunnery she was conveyed, and a father confessor employed to teach her her duty :—she, howo^ *r, pleaded her cause so well, at what price you canimagine, that the holy father, moved by her tears, kindly instructed her to appear acquiescent, until she could apprise her lover of the place of her confinement, and contrive a means of escaping to his arms.
Tnis lesson was highly agreeable to this gay, inconsiderate damsel; and so dexterously did she play her part, that before the end of ten days she eloped without suspicion, and without suspicion spent three weeks with her lover— when lo ! in one fatal hour, she was surprised by the arrival of four men, who obligee her to get into a coach, and brought her secretly to this convent, where the self-same confessor, who first taught her it was no sin to love, and then betrayed the step she had taken, in order to get her wholly to himself, attended her, and pathetically exhorted her to become a daughter of the iiouse, and forget a lover who had abandoned her ;—giving her, at the same time, such proofs of his perfidy, every one of which was false, anti merely calculated to effect his own purposes, that he overcame, by degrees, the tender doubts her bosom suggested ; and in a fit of rage, resentment, and desperation,she consented to devote herself for ever after the manner of the sisterhood, and bid adieu to a world that had not smiled on her. The way was insensibly smoothed before her—the father, she found, officiated occasionally here, and by his visits strengthened her sometimes wavering resolution, until she was at last enrolled on the list of Jesuit paramours, and her shame and her penitence buried together.—So much for this sister of Jesus ! as we saints are called.
Another fine girl, or rather the ruins of a fine girl, told me that she eloped at fifteen with her dancing-master—was pursued and overtaken by her brother, who, finding them in a bed-chamber, without deigning to hear one word in exculpation of her conduct, stabbed him to the heart; and dragged her in all the horrors of despair to this mansion, where she was tenderly received, and gradually soothed into resignation ; but having no alternative, notwithstanding her murdered lover is ever, she says, before her eyes, she is not clear from what motive she assumed the veil—but if, for her punishment, the end has been amply answered ; for she abhors her situation, goes through all the divine duties with reluctance, and feels a restlessness of soul that plainly speaks her a child of the world, and a vain aspirer after all its vain joys.
A third, with fine blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and a most beautiful complexion, confessed to me a few days ago. that gallantry was the cause of her being buried in this convent. She was bred at St. Omer’s, whence she was fetched by her mother, as is the French custom, to be married.
The man chosen for her by her careful parents, was twice her own age, and uncommonly plain in his person, but had title and fortune to charm her youthful heart. A splendid equipage and magnificent wardrobe were not to be resisted ; and she rushed into marriage with a thorough contempt for every consequence.
Her husband was very complaisant, but very disagreeable—and in the house with him dwelt a young Abbe, who had the care of his conscience, and might have sat for an Adonis. He dined with them every day, and his fine speaking face, seemed to say the softest, kindest things to her. For a time, however, she resolved to be virtuous, and make him adore in silence ; but the frolic came into her husband’s head, from possessing a very unusual share of love or curiosity for a Frenchman; that he would needs insist upon it she should discharge the old sober household priest, and trust her salvation to the guidance and documents of the youthful blooming Levite.
Like a dutiful wife she obeyed, and for some time persevered in confessing herself with all becoming devotion to this handsome fellow, whose person and mind were formed for seduction, and without the slightest departure from propriety—hut opportunity at length gave birth to importunity, and she was a* criminal as those enemies of deliberating virtue could render her%
Their meetings were at first guarded and stolen ; but security, that parent of danger, drove them on by degrees to such noon-day rencounters, that her husband took the alarm, and, in concert with a favourite valet de chambre, easily detected the intrigue; when her angelic Abbe was obliged to fly to England, and she, a poor young sinner ! was intimidated into this never-to-be-recalled step, in order to deliver herself from conjugal brow-beatings, and the clamors of her relations. She was introduced under a fictitious name, and getting through her noviciate, was admitted into the society of holy virgins like herself. “ But,” said she, uon concluding, I must tell you the true point of my repentance. My husband died three months after he had compelled me to take the veil, and his coadjutor in my undoing, his trusty valet, was gathered up nearly about the same time for some misdemeanor, and lodged in the Bastile. Thus,” continued she, “ I was buried most inhumanly alive, to answer no end on earth, except, indeed, that my dear Abbe, on these contingencies, returned to France, and is now an occasional confessor in this house—nay, to shew you the confidence I have in you, I will tell you, was the first father you ever opened your lips to as a papist; his visits soften the rigors of my confinement, but I, nevertheless, languish for the world, and die to be at Paris.”
What say you to this slight specimen of my condition ? Your purity will, I know, shrink at the idea, and I shall draw tears of unavailing tenderness from your eyes. But check them, I entreat you, for two reasons: I am not, now that 1 once again correspond with you, very unhappy, and profess myself wholly unworthy your compassion; for, in defiance of all your sensible, your heart-searching arguments, I threw myself into the pit whence there is no temporal resurrection, and deserve to waste my days in deploring the folly, ingratitude, and wildness, of my conduct.
Adieu ! and should you be disposed, as a lively mark of your forgiving spirit, to favour your fallen Maria with a letter, our Niobe may be relied upon, and will as safely convey it to me, as she does my epistles to you.
Maria.
I think our friend’s language proves her, as she professes herself, happier than usual: but, if these priests are the libertines she describes them, I fear she has very little chance for escaping their attacks; for, though no beauty, she is one of your first-rate agreeables, which is often more attaching, if not equally attractive with the utmost symmetry of features; and both in her person and manner has a larger share of the je rue fais qui than any woman I ever met with.
What would be the consequence of a rude and infernal overture to such a mind as hers, I am unable to conjecture ; but, for my own part, I should exult in seeing the mask torn from the face of hypocrisy, and would most gladly lend a helping hand towards making the same indelible.
But prudence and self-preservation forbid every violent measure—-finesse., not open opposition, will be our fort. But we shall hear from time to time how matters go, and, I hope, be found too hard still for these thorough-bred Jesuits, who can so artfully clap their cloven foot behind them, and pass themselves oflf for the chosen priests of the Most High.
I protest to you, I neither sleep nor wake without horror; and, if any noise happens suddenly to strike on my ear, start and tremble, lest it should be found, on inquiry, to proceed from our Maria in distress. Would she but alarm the convent, 1 would head a little army in her cause, and either rescue her or perish in the attempt—I am a very heroine, not in word, but deed, where my friend’s honour or reputation is at stake. But Heaven avert the danger!
Arabella.LETTER XXIV.
Jesuit Duplicity.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
My predictions are fatal. But read your friend’s letter, and then tell me, if I have not some extraordinary presentiments of events.
Let no one, Nancy, henceforth presume upon their persons, or say—Thus and thus 1 shall pass unheeded by, and no one think it worth their while to mind me. Youth, even novelty alone, I am convinced, is a sufficient charm to expose the unsheltered female to the most mortifying attacks.
Can you credit it ? A priest, young and blooming as Hebe, with hallelujahs still warm on his lips, has more than once attempted to persuade me the heart ought not to remain unoccupied, though lodged in a convent.
But what love has he to offer to engage the affections ? In this place the “ strainers to refine,” are wholly wanting; for the addresses of a priest are downright daring and unmannered licentiousness. O heaven ! that such houses can endure, when Sodom and Gomorrah are constituted the everlasting marks of God’s vengeance on base and degenerate man!
I was so struck and confounded by the first tender overture, that I knew not what I said or did : my beads fell from my hands, my Pater Noster was suspended on my tongue, and I looked instantly for his cloven foot; but this young Beelzebub had most dexterously concealed it.
I returned to my cell all pensive and disgusted, and in my way meeting the beautiful sister I have so often mentioned, she had a key to my thoughts, and softly sighed out as I passed her ; “ Ah ! what a world is this we live in! but God is just, and will not forsake those who trust in Him.”
My cell is sacred—that is my highest, I had almost said my only felicity ; but 1 could not pray, religion had lost all its graces, because one of its priests had proved himself infernal: so unable are we to separate persons from things, or persuade ourselves the fountain can be pure, when the stream is contaminated in its course. I wept and wrote, and wrote and wept—and have so far determined on my conduct, that this young Levite shall no more be the father \ I will confess to, though penances on penances should be the consequence of J my refusal.
My good sense, my happy language, my mind, mark that! was the object of his adoration, and to despoil, to vitiate, oh, the fiend ! the blessed fruits of it. I shall not fail to be on my guard.
How long might I have lived in the world before I had sustained such an outrage? The sanctity of my ear was never till now violated by the foul breath of the seducer: but let no one, for my sake, trust to fair seeming; it too often covers evil designing.
T! e beautiful nun and I are to spend an evening together, and chat over all the remarkable events of our lives. I long much to know how she was entrap; ed, though, perhaps, it was happy for mankind, that a nunnery should hide a shape and complexion, that, beheld, must be admired.
My saint, the Lady Abbess, who for artifice and penetration might challenge the first Jesuit of them all, does not approve of the friendly glances exchanged between us. Our hearts are required to be empty of every thing save grief and licentiousness; and to prevent every possible mischief on the part of Niobe, she has bounds prescribed her, in the style of a state-prisoner, be-yond which she is not to pass. But human nature is the same in a convent as in the gayest metropolis; restraint quickens invention, and whatever is forbidden rises in its value far above its original standard.
Sbe is often at the grate, and by her sweet, innocent, lively prattle, steals me. as it were, from myself; and this, too, only in order to cover her deeper designs of stolen interviews: but we are all adepts in these strokes of finesse, which are so despicable in private families, but absolutely necessary to our existence in a nunnery.
She tells me every scholar has her particular favourite amongst the sisterhood, and will go the greatest length to oblige or serve them—and such abundant exercise in the science of deception do these favourites find them, that, when they return home to their honest, unsuspecting, but vain friends, they understand all the needful for preserving the surface fair, either in a single or married state—and no matter for the rest.
Moreover, she assures me, that the nuns, who are thorough-paced and can be relied on, have dispensations granted them for going out—revelling—and returning with minds and persons beyond measure corrupted. Ought not, then, our moral writers much rather to guard us against the vices of a convent, than present us with such elaborate documents how to conduct ourselves through life, where tw'o rules are sufficient to ensure all their lessons are capable of teaching us, namely, thinking right and meaning well; for, as the former is a security against improper connexions, the latter keeps us from every step that would dishonour our own hearts, or make us despised by mankind.
Nancy ! was I possessed of the richest chrysolite on earth, I would joyfully give it to be restored to society and you : but all is past, and death alone can untie the knot that fatally fixes me to the spot of my captivity.
I can now account, alas! too well for the strict guard that is kept over the nuns, and the complicated springs which put them in motion : for if they were left but a moment to their own government, we should have nothing but elopements. Let wicked rulers, however, guard or manage them as they may, I could forgive them every thing but the blasphemy they are guilty of in making their worst actions a compliment to the Deity, and whilst they are engaged in diabolical pursuits, professing themselves to have no other concern than his honor and glory.
Thus, in the first instance, they trepan us into an adoption of a faith which contradicts reason and humanity, and then, as a holy duty, prevent our exposing the impious deception, by keeping us at a distance from all but their own creatures ; for none can approach a sister without a proper passport, or convey a letter unsearched, unless, like our little friend, their will proves an overmatch for the convent’s wisdom.
Let me know how my mother and her new family go on; for, however she abandoned me, I cannot forget I am her child ; besides, Nancy, she might be deceived, and fondly conclude, as this is a “bourne from which no traveller returns,” that the whole life of a nun is like the outward path, the walk of invitation all strewed with flowers. But, above all things, I conjure you, if you should live to see any of her innocent offspring grow up, never permit them to enter these walls. She has understanding, and where vanity is out of the question, is alive to the feelings of nature. I, therefore, absolve you from every tie of secrecy: if it should become necessary, speak out; if it is the only means of snatching a helpless individual from never-ending mortification. reveal, proclaim all I have written to you. Before that period arrive^,
I may rely flatter myself, I shall be no more, and can therefore have no rM consequences to apprehend. But I hope my deliverance is faT less remote. Death is sometimes imperceptible, though certain in its advances, and rather steals us from, than cuts off, our existence. May his lenient hand be laid onme ; and could / but be satisfied you would resign me as you ought, I should say this very night, with Cato, “ ’Tis indifferent in my choice to sleep or die.”
For you other scenes than those of vice and horror are prepared. Enjoy them, nor dare to oppose the will of Providence. Live the honour of our sex, aivi show what an accomplished woman should be, and what reverence she is entitled to, and will always receive.
I shall have ample matter for many future epistles from the beautiful nun* but I forbid you reading our convent relations with your handkerchief in your hand—her tears will be wiped away, her sufferings rewarded, her endurance compensated. Weep not, then, for her ; she is no mock saint!
I have not seen Mrs. Ashley—her nerves are too weak to bear what her good-nature and friendship calls so trying an interview. I have, however, by means of our Niobe, obtained her pardon for my disregard of her advice, and kind endeavours to save me from my present state of repentance and humiliation ; and I am pitied and esteemed far beyond my merits.
As to Miss Smith, her affection, constancy, and generalship, entitle her to canonization. She is the star of my felicity—I gaze on her with delight, am warmed by her rays, and languish if four-and-twenty hours pass away without beholding her.
Pray explain to me how it comes to pass, that she is continued in the house so long beyond the time it was expected she would quit it ?
Maria.
LETTER XXV.
Louisa.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
The interview is over, and the beautiful nun, next to yourself and our Niobe, is the beloved friend of my heart. Oh what a fate was hers! But it will be more agreeable to you to receive her history than my reflections upon it.
Had Louisa been an only child, the child of affectionate and liberal-minded parents, she must have been the happiest creature on earth ; for so perfectly does her soul and body correspond, that it is hard to determine which is most amiable—but it was her misfortune to be the youngest daughter of a numerous family, for her mother had fluttered herself she should have no more children, for several years before her birth;—and with the additional sin, as she grew up, of excelling all her brothers and sisters, it is not wonderful she should be found to be in the way.
Mrs. Vaners, her mother, was a woman violent in her attachments, and violent in her resentments—and as Louisa had not the felicity of being an object of her love, she was most unjustly the object of her hatred. Her reception on her entrance into the world was cold—through her infancy she was neglected, and when arrived at a womanly period, was treated with great unkindness.
Unable to account for this cruel conduct, and modest enough to suspect herself of some capital deficiencies for pleasing—whilst her sisters amused themselves in a thousand little coquetries—she industriously filled up her time with music, painting, and literature, in order, if possible, to compensate, by acquired perfections, for what Nature had denied her : and by making herselfentertaining as well as useful, find out the way of unlocking her relations’ hearts.
But what was her distress and astonishment, when, instead of producing the desired effect, she plainly perceived she was more than ever disliked! She wept, and, as grief and piety are almost twin sisters, began to seek that consolation in religion which the world cannot give.
This was the very thing sought for by her barbarous relations, who having too much honour and too much justice to compel her to bury herself in a convent, could only contrive to render it her own act and deed, from disappointed hopes and an uncomfortable situation.
A priest, a dependent of her father's, was instructed to fill her young mind with every enthusiastic notion of the beauty of holiness, and the pleasures of a convent;—and as her brothers and sisters never condescended to unbend their brow, or her father and mother to relax their austerity, she at length caught the contagion, and begged she might be permitted to pass her life within these walls.
Having once brought her to this point, her artful family began to caress her. It was a divine impulse—she was the daughter of heaven, and merited the	applause, the reverence of mankind. Her dress was now changed from that
of humility to a dress of splendour equal to her high birth, and she was carried about in a triumphal manner as the destined bride of God!
Her beauty was the universal theme all over Paris, and no one was at a loss to guess the family motives for hiding such loveliness from the world; but, as fathers and mothers, in France, are arbitrary in the disposal of their children, not an individual thought fit to interfere, or once to oppose the wicked election she had made. In the course of this display of the young saint, which was intended to prove that no constraint whatever was laid on her inclinations, an English nobleman, then on his travels, happened to behold her.
He endeavoured, on repeated occasions, but in vain, to speak to her—her kind relations left not one avenue open, and he was compelled to sigh and complain in private. As a forlorn hope, however, the week before she was to be brought to enter on her noviciate, he waited on Mrs. Vaners, and intreated her to bestow her daughter’s hand upon him; but his offer was deemed an insult, a sort of blasphemy, as she was circumstanced ; and on the appointed morning she took up her residence in this baneful mansion, where everything was calculated to captivate her imagination, and extinguish any soft wish this young nobleman’s visible attention and admiration of her might have given rise to. Her relations, nevertheless, had their doubtings and apprehensions, on which account it was, that though she had been received into the convent before I arrived, I never, till the conclusion of her noviciate, had a sight of her, it being thought advisable to keep her in the interior parts of the house, and in the company of select nuns, so long as it might be probable her lover would bear her in mind, or be incited to interrupt her pious intentions.
From what I can collect, she had some little conflict in her heart between her love of life and her love of heaven, and could have been content to separate herself from her envious relations, by a trip to England with his lordship, instead of bidding a final adieu to society.
Nevertheless, as I was an eye-witness, she took the veil ; and this nobleman was one of the many spectators on that pompous occasion.—She confesses, too, he caught her eye, but denies that his presence gave her one pang; for she has no idea, she says, of those attachments that have not friendship for their basis, and thinks hers a light and easy sacrifice, to give up a man, agreeable as he is in his person, that she never exchanged a vow with.
Educated as I have described, Louisa would have been one of the happiestand sincerest devotees on earth, if convents were what they are described by artifice, and believed by those of easy faith—but the wickedness of those who she expected would have shewn her the way to the glorious mansions for which she had renounced all worldly gratifications, soon alarmed and disgusted her. The more she thought, the more she was puzzled to reconcile vice with virtue, and the arch-fiend with the Deity ; and so powerful was the horror that seized her mind on her first coming to a true knowledge of her condition, that she was more than half tempted to add the character of the Roman heroine to that of the genuine devotee, and by dagger or poison defeat the diabolical schemes that were laid for her destruction.
But it was otherwise decreed—1 was on the verge of increasing the number of holy virgins, and she promised herself a sympathising friend, a sincere partner in adversity in me: nor shall she be disappointed—I will love her, soothe her, and if possible, protect her from violence. But violence is the last resource of priestly outrage ; for there is danger in it—and these holy seducers choose rather to trust to time, dissembling arts, or some unguarded moment, for success, than bring their reputation into hazard.
But they have every thing in their own power—for under a million of false pretences, as penances and mortifications ; the most remote recesses of the convent, where the light never dawns, or unhallowed feet tread, become the temporary residence of the defenceless female, who, instead of serving or appeasing her God, there finds herself the prey of the most infernal of men.
Louisa, a few weeks ago, was plunged into the deepest apprehensions, lest some such injunction awaited her, as every finesse that language or manners are oapable of had been practiced towards her undoing, by one priest, who suddenly disappeared—she could not conceive why, until she w'as informed he was summoned to Rome on some religious account: but she trembles every hour, lest either he should return, or be succeeded by one of the same dire complexion, to torment and insult her.
I bid her be of good cheer; for, let what will be the consequence, she shall be so closely attended by me, that the best-concerted plan of wickedness shall fall to the ground—and I will keep my word with her.
I told her the overture I had received—and we now laughed, now wept, now’ sympathized, and now encouraged each other, till in the end wTe felt a new spirit revive within our bosoms; and extravagant as the hope appears, actually hope wre shall live to triumph over these dark magicians, and obtain our enlargement.
Ah! Nancy, should it be possible for us to meet again!—The everlasting curtain has been dropped between us, yet our minds are not disunited, our correspondence is re-established.—My heart overflows with tender regret, soft recollection, and fond remembrance of what we have been.—But we will not be deceived. Our correspondence is all the intercourse we must expect on this side the grave. Had that nobleman loved, as I should have done, this fairest of Nature’s works, the all-accomplished Louisa, he would not' have suffered fourteen months to elapse without taking one step for her deliverance.—He has forgot her, forsook her, and the ray I caught is now wholly shut out by reason and reflection.	Maria.LETTER XXVI.
A Plot.
ARABELLA SMITH TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
What busy scenes a convent affords ! Miss Gerard is so close shut up that her pen and ink, which I contrived to help her to, are become useless, and I am commanded to write the why and wherefore, which are as follows :—
The beautiful Louisa, some small time before she quitted the world, was seen and admired by an English nobleman, who offered himself and fortune to her relations, with every stipulation respecting religious matters, to obtain her—but in vain. Jealousy and pride were their governing principles of action, and to blight—not display this lovely flower, the wish of their heart. He was, therefore, disgracefully refused. 
But Englishmen are not easily repulsed. Though the walls of a convent are, as Shakspere says of the Capulet gardens, “ high and hard to climb, and the place death to those that venture unauthorized within them,” yet this enterprising young spark, disguised in a female dress, with a black calash over his face, was conducted, by a lady of spirit in the neighbourhood, who sometimes visits our Superior, into the very parlour.
His person, favoured his designs, for he is within the middle size, slim and genteel—his complexion fair and florid. I happened to be on the spot when he was shewn in, and felt—I knew not what of fearful apprehensions, for he appeared to be an uncommon visitant; but every thing passed off to his wish. The beautiful nun was, by the Lady Abbess’ complaisance, called to the grate, and he feasted his eyes and ears above a quarter of an hour with her face and voice. At length, finding she was rubout to retire—though I confess it was only repelling fraud by fraud, and conforming to the necessities of the place— he advanced with an air of piety to the grate, and presenting an open slip of paper, besought sister Louisa to let the unhappy one therein described be remembered in her prayers and the prayers of the holy sisterhood. Then resuming his seat, and putting a white handkerchief to his eyes, he intreated his fair conductress to explain the cause of his tears, and the request he had made to that “ heavenly virgin.”
A story of an hour long was, thereupon, told the Lady Abbess, of a young, perverse one on the point of marrying a heretic—a very near relation of the afflicted lady’s—and throwing herself out of the pale of the true church.
The Lady Abbess, whose tears are perfectly obedient to her commands wept at the narrative—began to cross herself and tell over her beads; and they parted the best friends imaginable. Louisa, who had somewhat of a presentiment of the affair, would not trust herself to examine the paper until she arrived at her cell—when she learned that his lordship was resolved to under--take impossibilities for her rescue—level the walls of her prison, or break their tenfold doors, rather than know such loveliness languishing in obscurity —concluding the whole with a promise of seeing her, and accounting for his long, long seeming* neglect of her.
Miss Gerard contrived—for this is a particular week of superstition—just to give me the outlines of the business, and will write herself as soon as she is able. 0! we will all elope together—I mean Maria, Louisa, and myself;— for I will not remain a moment after them, and it shall go hard—but our friend shall be of the party. Providence has hitherto done its work by me, an humble instrument; but think what an auxiliary I have obtained. Yet, though his abilities may exceed mine, I cannot call it presumption to say, in love and inclination he cannot go beyond me. I am beside myself with hope and joy.
Arabella.
LETTER XXVII. A iilicipalion.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent or Saint Roch.
Vows of virginity should well be weigh’d ;
They oft are cancell’d, though in convents made.
Louisa, my dear Nancy, with your friend, is so unhinged hy the incident that Niobe has informed you of, that we know not how to contain ourselves. But have we not been betrayed, deceived, within these walls, and stand we not on the absolute brink of the most dire evils ?
Louisa’s person is so abundantly beautiful, that I should have pitied these wolves in sheeps’ clothing if their admiration of it had proved their torment; but even I myself cannot escape, except by flight; and we have settled it, that the world, with all its vanities, its corruptions, cannot give us worse scenes than what this convent hourly presents us with. The very attitudes of devotion, and the very tears of penitence are only so many new displays of the devoted one’s charms in the eyes of these ghostly fathers, who pray whilst their hearts are agitated by unholy love, and impose penances on their disciples whilst they are planning schemes to engage their dishonourable approbation. In a word, we see and shudder at their zeal in the arch-fiend’s cause. A victim to sacrilegious licentiousness is a horrible idea to us ; and to receive, for a gallant, the man from whom we are daily soliciting benedictions and absolutions, is an article of Christian faith to which we are unable to subscribe.
Be the event, however, what it may, I rejoice that my little stipend has not been locked up by any act of mine that is not reversible with my change ot situation. The convent was to receive it for my use ; but if I can contrive to quit the convent I shall have use for it elsewhere, and I think neither law nor equity can set up a clause against me.
Louisa’s establishment is quite on another principle; she had only presents to bestow, and they are gone for ever. Had mine, indeed, been other than an annuity terminating with my life, I douht not but I should have eagerly endowed the house with it in my day of infatuation, and left myself wholly destitute.
What will my mother say, if I should get at large ? Will she not accuse me of perfidy—of profanation ? But I believe, after burying myself so much to her satisfaction, it will be unsafe—consequently unwise, to trust her with the knowledge of my resurrection. I must, therefore, borrow some French name, and rely on obscurity for the rest. And what, then, Nancy, becomes of my annuity ? If I fly hence, I much fear I shall lose it. The thought is distressing—mortifying; but, should that prove the case, I must constitute myself a tax on the generosity of my friends.
Louisa has a near and worthy relation in England ; a refugee, who, by fly-mg from France, fled from a very considerable fortune, but by marrying a man of great property, and surviving her children and husband, is now possessed of three thousand pounds a year in the West of England.—To her she means to repair immediately on her enlargement, and flatters herself, that her aunt’s liberality will render her hand more worthy of her noble lover’s acceptance than if he had received it from her father and mother.
I am sorry to find myself so elated by any incident; but my soul is on the wing—I am impatient to find a spot of rest, of hospitality. Niobe is to be the companion of our flight.
W hat will be his Lordship’s next step it is impossible to conjecture ;—but we may reasonably give him credit for perseverance now he is once started: nor will this be the first convent an Englishman has robbed, although so well secured by art, and so faithfully superintended by superstition, besides the stronger reasons I have given you, namely, that priests have eyes and hearts as well as other men, and that, notwithstanding they dedicate their persons to celibacy, they do not conceive themselves bound to offer up their inclinations on that shrine.
But how will the courteous and enterprising knight be astonished, when he finds, instead of one distressed damsel, that his shoulders are to be saddled with a brace ? for Louisa declares she will not fly without me, and hers is the voice of truth and fidelity.
I am now no longer a papist—the mysteries, the ceremonies, the pantomi-mical part I wholly reprobate; but the zeal of good men, the warmth of honest devotion, the humility of penitence, and the practice of self-examination, I will adopt, I will retain. On a cool and candid investigation of the tout-ensemble when we meet, we will draw the line, live the life of duty as we go along, pray without the help of beads, praise without external aids, and bend our hearts without torturing our bodies, choose and refuse as reason and morality dictate, and hypocrisy’s veil shall be rent asunder.
I should have told you, that, as it was no uncommon thing for the Lady Abbess to treat her favourite female visitor with a sight of the angelic nun, as Louisa is called, we were not surprised to find her summoned to the grate.
On her return, however, I was struck by her flushed cheek and quick step, and followed her instinctively to her cell, when, scarcely able to keep from fainting, she put the note she had received into my hands, and we gazed on each other in silent astonishment.
As the least interested, or more properly, the least-agitated party, I recovered the power of speech first, and congratulated her upon her prospect of deliverance—“ This, my dear, said I, you may be sure of, that, whatever spot you may be cast on, it cannot be worse than this.”
“ That is a solemn, a serious truth, replied she—but there is one condition on which alone I will consent to break through what I once thought to be holy, but now find to be mock voios ; for, unless you accompany me, and prove to me, by flying, that you conceive it justifiable to deliver yourself from the fell gripe of devils in human form, and throw yourself on the ocean of the world,
I will embrace death as the last, the only resource of helpless, persecuted, betrayed innocence.”
1 was pleased with this instance of tenderness, good opinion, and friendship, and promised her one fate should unite and govern us to the end of our lives: and thus you find me ready to rush forth into those social scenes which I so rashly and precipitately renounced.
Niobe will write to you on any exigence. It is settled, that, should his ingenuity effect a means of our enlargement, she shall retire, a la mode Fran-0oise, the day before, and wait for us on the Dover side of the channel.
Maria.LETTER X X VI11.
Delay.
MARIA GERARD TO ELIZA FREEMAN.
Convent of Saint Roch.
Three days of painful suspense are now at an end. A lover !—does love Nancy, move on leaden wings ? No invention, no plot, no attempt to redeem us from the jaws of the destroyer!—Ah me !—sure rather he ought, Perseus like, to have, long before this, mounted his Pegasus, and dispatched the monster that withholds his Louisa from his wishes.
But perhaps I wrong him ; to work securely, we must work circumspectly, and great events are not born of a day. Nevertheless, I must think, that I should have done something worthy my prowess and my mistress’s thanks, ere such an age as three whole days had expired.
Our Arguses have their eyes every where upon us, and are ready with their specious interpretations. If we look pensive, it is called holy zeal; if we weep, they are tears that delight; and our sighs infallibly waft to heaven. Thus the poor deluded one is led on by an ignit fatvus until the noose is fitted on her neck, from which no human power can release her. And lest, at night, with the honest artifice of Penelope, we should contrive to undo what we have done in the day, all but such as are styled the house-nuns—infatuated wretches, who, in order to get to heaven, carry both their souls and bodies to the devil —are locked up and separated from the novices by a door of such enormous itTength and magnitude that I never behold it turning on its hinges without recollecting the gate described by Milton, which opened with so fearful a sound, an 1 out of which the enemy of mankind issued, with sin and death in his train.
Niobe appeared yesterday, for the first time, at high-mass. I trembled at the sight of her, though my heart told me she was secured by a seven-fold shield against the wiles of the sisterhood and the poison of priestly documents. She soon, however, explained her conduct to my entire satisfaction, by informing me, with the usual signal, that she had a letter for me, which I was dexterous enough, unperceived, to convey into my pocket. But such a letter ! Can you think for a moment, situated as I am, that I want any argument's but the dangers which surround me, and the testimony of a good conscience, to incite me to fly from this pandemonium.
A young priest—the high-priest of Apollo, for aught I know—has arrived at our convent, with letters of superabundant credit from the Pope.
He has visited the religious houses far and near, and is commissioned to see that no errors have crept into the externals of their devotion—A solemn mass is therefore appointed, at which he is to assist, and will go over the confession and enjoin the penances, previous to the “holy week,” which is not now far distant.
Having what I have on my mind, what a “ blessed virgin ” I shall be to join in the mock angelic procession, and sing hymns of joy and rapture !—But so it must bo—arrayed in the whiteness of innocence—our veils becomingly disposed, our beads depending from our wrists, our croix on our hearts, and with tajiers in our hands—we shall at night repair to the Sanctum Sanctorum of this house, there to do over our religious exercises before this holy ambassadors who will report us to the father of the Roman church, and without question, abundantly promote our salvation.	Maria.
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