FEMALE INQUISITIONS IN ROME.
Policy of the Inquisition in the Romish Church--In Nunneries--They
are Prisons--Testimony of Rev. B. White--Case of Abduction at
Turin--Testimony of Rev. M. H. Seymour--Society in Rome--Italian
estimate of Woman--Reasons for Nunneries--Their walls and iron
gratings--Their secrecy--Testimony of an Officer--Religious
temptations--Impurity in Nunneries--Instances of
wickedness--Suicide of an Abbess--Popery as regarded by the Romans.
Romish policy in the Inquisition, as we have seen, is not limited to the
Holy Office. Its influence and its morals are felt throughout the whole
circle of society in popish countries; and its operations extend to all
classes, even to the educational and public institutions. It is seen in
the religious houses. We have, in Chapter XIX., some affecting examples
and illustrations of the enormities and immoral practices of the
_celibate_ priests, among all ranks. And such evils are known to have
been common in convents and nunneries. These have been considered as so
many “Female Inquisitions.” Many of them are, in a proper sense of the
term, _prisons_, whose unhappy inmates are altogether in the power of
the priests. They are governed and regulated by rules framed or
sanctioned by the “Holy Office;” and in what manner soever the recluses
are treated, they have no means of redress, being entirely removed from
the jurisdiction of the civil magistrate, _secluded in secret
apartments, to which priests only have access_.
What is the general character of both priests and nuns, in Roman
Catholic countries, is testified by many; and the testimony of the Rev.
Blanco White, formerly chaplain to the king of Spain,--as he had the
best means of information,--will be satisfactory regarding his own
country. He says,--“Men of the first eminence in the church were the old
friends of my family--my parents’ and my own spiritual directors. Thus I
grew up, thus I continued in manhood, till at the age of
five-and-thirty, religious oppression, and that alone, forced me away
from kindred and country. The intimacy of friendship and undisguised
converse of sacramental confessions opened to me the hearts of many
whose exterior conduct might have deceived a common observer. The coarse
frankness of associated dissoluteness left, indeed, no secrets among the
spiritual slaves, who, unable to separate the laws of God from those of
their tyrannical church, trampled both under foot in riotous despair.
Such are the sources of the knowledge I possess: God, sorrow, and
remorse, are my witnesses.
“What need I say of the vulgar crowd of priests, who, coming, as the
Spanish phrase has it, from _coarse swaddling clothes_, and raised by
ordination to a rank of life for which they have not been prepared,
mingle vice and superstition, grossness of feeling and pride of office,
in their character? I have known the best among them; I have heard the
confessions of young persons of both sexes, who fell under the influence
of their suggestion and example; and I do declare that _nothing can be
more dangerous to youthful virtue than their company_. How many souls
would be saved from crime but for the vain display of superior virtue
which Rome demands from her clergy!
“The picture of _female convents_ requires a more delicate pencil, yet
_I cannot find tints sufficiently dark and gloomy_ to portray the
miseries which I have witnessed in their inmates. Crime, indeed, makes
its way into those recesses, in spite of the spiked walls and prison
gates which protect the inhabitants. _This I know_, with all the
certainty which the self-accusation of the guilty can give. It is,
besides, a notorious fact, that _the nunneries in Estremadura and
Portugal are frequently infected with vice of the grossest kind_. But I
will not dwell on this revolting part of the picture!”
“Auricular confession,” with its authorised rules and _questions_,
seems, above everything in human intercourse, adapted to corrupt the
heart of the priest, and prepare him for the most vicious practices. And
the dangers to unprotected nuns cannot but be inexpressible. How can a
virtuous mind contemplate this practice, in the nature of things,
without revolting from it with indignation? The MIND surrendered to the
keeping of a fellow-being, who probes every feeling and knows every
thought!--the MIND forced into a mould, as of iron, and there held by an
unholy priest!--_maidens_ unbosoming themselves in secret to unmarried
men,--to men who are trained up from childhood for the priesthood, as
the sure means of a respectable livelihood! _Married women_ exhibiting
the inmost recesses of their hearts to strange men! Is there not
iniquity unspeakable in this practice? It seems necessary, therefore, to
complete the present work, to offer some exhibition of the state of
those prisons of females, kept under the government of priests,--and
especially as they exist in the metropolis of the Roman pontiff. This
appears essential to the “INQUISITION REVEALED.”
Popish policy regarding convents, and the fact of their being secret
prisons, similar to those of the Inquisition, will appear more fully
from an atrocious case of priestly intrigue, in violation of the law of
God, the particulars of which are given in _The Times_ newspaper of
Friday, November 15, 1844:--
“A popular French writer has recently asserted, in a work of fiction, in
which he virulently, though not always unjustly, assails the policy of
the Romish clergy, that the pretensions of the more unscrupulous agents
of that church openly defy all the most sacred relations of mankind;
that they dare to set at nought even the ties of filial duty; and that
no artifices are too base for them to resort to, in furtherance of their
ends. But we have met with nothing in the pages of fiction which
illustrates these serious and almost incredible charges more forcibly,
than an occurrence which has actually taken place in the course of the
present year, in one of the capitals of the south of Europe. We feel
impelled to give to these painful events, and most sinister
machinations, a greater publicity than they have hitherto received; not
only because it is well that the actors in such transactions should
learn, that they cannot escape the animadversions of Europe, but because
the case we are about to relate affords a warning not to be overlooked
by our Protestant fellow-countrymen, whose families may chance to fall
within the reach of the same dangerous influences.
“The post of Dutch minister at the court of Turin had been reputably
filled, for some years, by a Protestant gentleman of the name of
Heldivier, who resided with his family in that city, until, in
consequence of some new diplomatic arrangements on the part of the Dutch
government, he received, in May last, his letters of recall. Some
domestic anxiety had been occasioned to this family by one of the
daughters, a young lady of ardent and independent temperament, who was
supposed to have formed an attachment to a young lawyer of the town,
whose character and position did not make him a suitable match for her.
Their departure was, therefore, hastened; but after M. Heldivier had
presented his letters to the king of Sardinia, he was accidentally
detained, by the illness of another of his children, for a few days, in
an hotel at Turin. On the 8th of June, a display of fireworks took
place, in honour of the birth of an heir to the duke of Savoy. The
ex-minister and his wife were induced to attend this fête, and very
reluctantly to leave their daughter, who excused herself on some
pretext, at home. They were absent but a short time; yet, in the
interval, the vague apprehensions they seem to have entertained were
fatally verified. Their daughter had disappeared--and for ever. At that
hour of the night she had quitted the hotel, alone, and without even a
change of dress. The police were immediately sent in search of the
fugitive. The young advocate, who was at first suspected to have had a
hand in the elopement, was examined, but he proved himself to be totally
ignorant of the occurrence; not a vestige of her was to be found within
the jurisdiction of the authorities of the city; but this absence of all
evidence raised a strong presumption that she would be found in the
precincts of some convent, more inaccessible than a prison or a tomb.
“Application was made to the archbishop of Turin, as the supreme
ecclesiastical power of the kingdom, for leave to pursue these
inquiries, or for information, if he possessed it, on the subject; for,
meanwhile, the anxiety and anguish of this unfortunate family had been
raised to a pitch which we shall not attempt to describe; and even the
public, startled by the actual disappearance of a young lady, _still a
minor_, the daughter of a gentleman who came amongst them as the
representative of a foreign sovereign, took the liveliest interest in
their extreme distress.
“The archbishop thought fit to reply to this application, that he had
reason to believe that Mademoiselle Heldivier had indeed sought refuge
in a convent, but that he was unable to state where she was at present.
A few days more, however, brought the whole transaction to light. When
the archbishop of Turin asserted that he was unable to state where the
young lady was, _he might have stated, and he did afterwards
acknowledge_, that _no person living had had so great a hand in the
affair as himself. For two years he had been carrying on a system of
secret communication with Mademoiselle Heldivier!_ Thwarted by her
parents in her attachment for the young advocate, she had sought to
avenge herself upon them by transferring her confidence from her father
to this priest--from her natural protectors, to the jealous arms of the
church of Rome. The archbishop, _unwilling to commit himself by a
written order, had furnished his convert with one-half of a sheet of
paper, cut in a particular manner_; the other half was given to the
abbess of the convent of Santa Croce, in Turin, with orders to receive
the bearer of the corresponding fragment at any hour of the day or
night. Provided with these credentials, the fugitive found shelter in
the convent walls; but, _by the advice of the archbishop_, her flight
was deferred until her father, by the delivery of his letters of recall,
had, as these clerical conspirators contend, surrendered those
diplomatic rights and privileges which would have been fatal to their
scheme.
“The fact being thus ascertained, a strong effort was made to bring the
authors of this plot to account for their action, and to yield up the
young person whom they had gotten into their possession. Setting aside
the odious secret arts by which this alleged conversion had been
effected, and the irreparable injury done to an honourable family, the
case was one which demanded the strongest remonstrances, as an
unparalleled invasion of the law of nations, and of the rights of
diplomatic persons. A Dutch subject--a minor--the child of a Dutch
minister--is encouraged to quit her father’s abode, received into a
convent, and there detained, not only by moral but by actual force,
since every attempt even to search these convents was successfully
resisted by the clergy. His Majesty granted him an audience; but, in
answer to the prayers and demands of M. Heldivier, that his daughter
might be restored to him, the only reply which the absolute monarch
dared to make was, that _whatever might be his own opinion on the
subject, if he presumed to interfere with the ecclesiastical
jurisdiction of the convents, he should be excommunicated_! Such an
answer, on such an occasion, might have been expected from a Philip II.
of Spain; and such powers as are thus recognised and established fall
little short of those of the Inquisition! The principle contended for,
on behalf of the church of Rome, is this--that _any child, having
completed the age of twelve years, may, for any cause, motive, or
pretext, throw off the parental authority, and fling itself under the
protection of the church_. If the child be a Protestant, so much the
better, since, while it abjures its filial duties, it abandons its
religious faith; but, whether Catholic or Protestant, the protection of
the church, thus sought and thus given, is absolute and inviolable!
“There are few countries now, in Europe or the world, where such a
doctrine as this would not be demolished by the ordinary notions of
civil rights and justice. But the dominions of the king of Sardinia are
not one of those countries. In vain did Mr. Abercromby, our own
intelligent minister at the court of Turin, and Baron Mortier, the
representative of France, represent that M. Heldivier, as a diplomatic
person, had an incontestable right to quit the country in peace, taking
with him all his family. The inexorable grasp of the infallible church
prevailed. The king of Holland appears to have taken this outrage upon
the family of his minister with a most unbecoming indifference and
pusillanimity; and Mademoiselle Heldivier remains in the convent of
Santa Croce, where she has formally abjured the Protestant heresy, and
will, probably, take the veil on the completion of her noviciate.
“We have no wish to draw any excessive or unjust inferences from this
strange occurrence, which seems to belong, not only to another country,
but to another age; but _it exhibits an awful picture of what the
uncontrolled power of the Romish clergy may still dare to effect, and a
humiliating example of a government, which has allowed the ties of
private right and public law to be broken asunder_, because it is itself
a victim to the worst form of bigotry, and the most servile subjection
to spiritual oppression!”
Rome must be regarded as the fountain of the papal Catholicism. In that
metropolis is concentrated the wisdom, the authority, and the
perfection of that system, which has been established by the pretended
“Vicar of Christ.” We are bound, therefore, to examine the institutions
of him who is entitled “His Holiness,” and worshipped under the
designation of “Most Holy Father!”
Nunneries abound in Rome; but they are, in reality, so many prisons, and
most of them appear to be governed by the most intolerant rules, framed
under the authority of the Inquisition, and administered in its spirit,
as testified by the most respectable writers. Perhaps no one will be
esteemed more worthy of credit than the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, M.A., a
clergyman of the highest reputation in the church of England. In his
“Pilgrimage to Rome,” written after his visit to that city, at the close
of 1844, and in the early part of 1845, he testifies concerning the
condition and character of society among the Romans, as shall be quoted
from his instructive volume.
Regarding the city of Rome itself, he declares, “Although the hotels are
admirable, the best of them being under the management of foreigners,
every species of filth and every kind of odour greet the visitant on his
entrance among the streets of this city of the church. For filth, for
odours, for indecency, for all that is offensive to the eye, to the
feelings, to the habits of a cleanly and orderly people, the city of
Rome surpasses almost any city in the world!”--Pp. 139.
In testifying concerning the Roman convents, he says, “The subject of
monasteries, as nunneries are called in Italy, is beset with
considerable difficulties. The conclusion at which we have arrived,
after all the information we could obtain, is this:--that however
unmixed the evils of such a system may seem--however inexcusable and
unredeemable in France or England, in Germany or Switzerland,--the
establishment of monasteries in Italy bears a different complexion; not,
indeed, from anything in the nature or conduct of such establishments
themselves, but from the state of society in Italy.
“The social state of that beautiful land is as sad and melancholy, as
its skies are bright and joyous. In the addresses of the preachers at
the several receptions of novices and nuns, at which we were present,
there was one pervading idea--one, too, not lightly put forth or
incidentally alluded to, but running through the whole discourse, and
forming the main substratum of everything else. I allude to the idea,
that it was very difficult for a young female to preserve herself pure
and holy from the sin and vice of the world, except within the walls of
a monastery. These preachers had never witnessed the social system of
England, or other lands; they had seen only that which pervaded Italy,
and especially that of Rome. _They were unmarried men, who knew nothing
of the purity, the modesty, the virtue, that belongs to a high-toned
state of female society._ They had seen only the remains of the loose,
wanton, and licentious spirit that breathed through every part of Italy
during the last century; and every one who has the means of observation
or information, seems to feel that the judgment of these men, though
overstrained, as applied universally, is too correct in the main, as
applied to the tone of society in Italy, and especially in Rome.
“I was much struck with this idea, when put forth so strongly, as
expressing the conviction of those men; and it soon appeared to be a
very general feeling among the laity as well as among the clergy. And I
was surprised at finding that, even among the women, who had themselves
borne the most respectable and irreproachable characters, there was a
strong conviction, that however objectionable the life of the cloister,
it yet was the safest life for a female. My wife had much communicated
to her by ladies, who were mothers of families, and were conversant with
the difficulties that surrounded them. And the general impression was,
that the state of society was so ill-arranged--that the tone of feeling
was so loose--that moral principle was so lightly valued--that regard
for female purity was so little cherished--and the whole frame-work of
the social system so loosened and disjointed, that there was neither a
due respect for female character, nor sufficient protection for female
purity. Living under governments essentially despotic--living under laws
that are framed only to screen the authorities--living in lands where
justice can be bought and sold, like any other marketable
commodity--living among a people ever ripe for any and every
revolution--living in this state, they live suspicious of each other;
and being without commerce, without education, without employment, they
too often make vice and intrigue, and at all events pleasure--the
business, and education, and employment of life. In such a state of
things among the men, women become regarded by them merely as a means to
an end, merely as a means to minister to the pleasures of the hour; till
too often she sinks into that state in which character is an
incumbrance, and modesty is unknown.
“This is a dark picture, though a faithful one, of Italian society. It
was drawn for us by Italian hands, in the freedom and frankness of
private intercourse; and strongly illustrates the ground of their great
predilection for monasteries. A young Italian lady, before her marriage,
is not permitted to stir out of the sight of her mother; and no
acquaintance with men, and no intimacy even with her own brothers, in
the sense in which we regard acquaintance or intimacy, is permitted. The
mothers seem to act as if they thought it was morally impossible their
daughters should not fall, if only they had a moment’s opportunity; as
if they thought their daughters were seeking the opportunity, and were
restrained only by the strict superintendence of parental presence. This
is a state of society unknown in England, and almost as unintelligible
as unknown. And, strange to say, all the warm and affectionate
intercourse of brothers and sisters, and all the frankness and
confidence of respect and protection that characterises the intercourse
of unmarried persons in society in England, are things utterly unknown
and unintelligible in Italy.”--Pp. 168-171.
Nunneries, therefore, in the present state of society, in the opinion
of Mr. Seymour, are necessary in Italy. He says of them, “There are two
very cogent motives towards the maintenance of nunneries in Italy; one,
as a means of safe and secure seclusion from the hideous forms of vice
and immorality that characterises Italian society:--the other, as an
easy and convenient means for settling and providing for the unmarried
daughters of the land.
“The feeling, that the life of the cloister is the only safe and secure
protection for an unmarried female, is warmly cherished and most deeply
seated; and it is carefully fostered by the parents, in order to induce
their daughters to remain in the cloister. It is no less carefully
cherished and fostered by the priesthood, to conceal the _penetralia_ of
conventual life; and so far is this carried, that if a novice, having
taken the white veil, should, at the conclusion of her noviciate, refuse
to take the black veil, she would be regarded as a reckless, wilful
girl, who preferred a life of exposure to the worst temptations of the
world, to a life of holiness and peace in a nunnery. Her parents and
relations would refuse to receive her; or, if they did receive her, it
would be as a fallen and unhappy one. And as, in England, a family would
weep and mourn over one of their number who had fallen into sin, and
shame, and sorrow, bringing ruin upon herself and disgrace upon her
family; just so, in Italy, would a family regard the girl who had
finished her noviciate, and refused to proceed further. She would be
kept from contact with her other sisters; she would be removed out of
sight, that no stranger should see her; her name would never be heard in
conversation; and, even in her own family, it would never be breathed,
save in those low and whispering tones in which we speak of those that
have fallen. With such a prospect before her, as a matter of certainty,
it ceases to be any cause for astonishment that the young novice should
persevere, and lay aside the white veil, and assume the black, becoming
a recluse for life.”--Pp. 173, 174.
Mr. Seymour’s representation of the condition of nuns is most affecting;
but only in accordance with what is declared by others who are competent
to form a correct opinion. He says, of the wretched victim of this
system, “At the last day of her noviciate she is nominally free, and
then, on assuming the black veil, _she becomes a prisoner for life_. If
she escapes from the monastery, or attempts to fly, the law proclaims
her an outcast, and all the ministers of justice _pursue her as a
felon_, and _she is seized and punished as a criminal_, and confined, if
possible, still more closely than before. I cannot say precisely what
are the provisions of the law respecting such runaways, but the notion
that it is a sin _deserving_ death is carefully propagated, and the
belief generally prevails that imprisonment in a dungeon for life is the
destined penalty within the walls of a convent. The terrors of the law
are thus one great security against any attempt at escape from a
nunnery. And, besides this, escape is next to impossible; for the
monasteries are so constructed, that the inmates are as much prisoners
within them, as criminals are prisoners in the public gaols. The windows
are barred; the gates are chained; the walls are lofty. Exteriorly they
always present this sad appearance, and interiorly it is necessary to
pass through one, two, and sometimes three massive gates or doors, made
as strong as wood and iron can make them, and locked and chained as
securely as art can effect. It has always appeared to me, when examining
these monasteries, that it was physically impossible for a young female
to make an effectual attempt to escape. She cannot escape; and if she
could, she would immediately be seized by the police, and remanded to
some worse punishment in her prison.
“I have examined the exterior of many monasteries, and have been
admitted into the interior of some, so as to be allowed to converse with
the nuns at the grating: my wife has been admitted into the _intima
penetralia_ of others. The impression left on her mind, as on my own,
has been the same--that there is no possibility of escape; and that the
nuns must remain, in general, not because their home is happy, but
because they have no means of leaving it. It is often indeed said, and
great care is taken to propagate the idea, that their home is
happy--that their occupations are innocent--that their hearts are
peaceful; while all within is a paradise of holiness and happiness, the
very type and shadow of our home in the heavens. It is carefully
reported, that this fulness of happiness, this repletion of peace, this
secret and holy communion of sister with sister, and total separation
from all the ties of a family, and all the cares of life, is the real
magic that binds, as by a spell, the hearts of novices, and the minds of
nuns; so that they would not exchange their nunneries for the noblest
palace--their simple repast for the most joyous, festive scenes--their
life of dull monotony for the most brilliant society; or the
companionship of the sisters for the society of the most affectionate of
husbands. All this is so often said, that in Italy it is as familiar as
a household word; but all appeared otherwise to us. We felt, that if,
indeed, they were so happy, there was no necessity for such lofty walls
to keep them there; that if, indeed, all within was such a perfect
paradise, there was no need of such pains to prevent their deserting it;
that if all was a type of heaven, it seemed strange to have such bars of
iron, and such gratings of iron, to compel these spirits of holiness to
remain in the enjoyment of it. In England, these lofty walls and iron
bars bespeak a prison, to confine the criminal and prevent his escape;
and, certainly, in Italy they look as if designed for the same purpose.
And it is nothing else than rank hypocrisy, to say that these lofty
walls and iron bars are designed for any other purpose than the enforced
constraint and imprisonment of the inmates of the monastery. To so cruel
and tyrannical an extent is this imprisonment carried, that no nun is
permitted to speak with any one, even through the grating, unless in the
presence of a second nun as a spy, to prevent any plan of escape, or
aught else concerted with the stranger, or any conversation passing to
the prejudice of the monastic life, or to the unveiling of the secrets
of the nunnery. It is all a part of the system to surround the inmates
with every imaginable check and restraint, to preclude the hope and
prevent the possibility of escape, and so secure the nuns as prisoners
for life, and recluses for ever. At one nunnery, where we were
conversing with two nuns at the grating, having visited them in company
with the relations of one of them, I observed that the iron was double,
the two gratings being some inches apart, so that even hand could not
touch hand through them. I asked the reason of such double defence,
begging to know whether, as all was such a paradise, it was designed to
keep the ladies in, or to keep the gentlemen out. I was merrily answered
on the instant, ‘O, Signor, one grating will keep the ladies within, and
the other will keep the gentlemen without!’”--Pp. 177-180.
Mr. Seymour obtained information of the most appalling character, from
persons who possessed intimate acquaintance with these “Female
Inquisitions” at Rome. Their testimony, therefore, could not be
invalidated. He states on this point,--“A gentleman, who holds an
official station in the papal court, and who, from the nature of his
office, has been obliged to accompany the cardinal-vicar in his
visitation of some of the nunneries, communicated to us, in private, the
impressions created on his own mind. He was a man of years and
experience--was the father of a large family, was a very domestic,
amiable and religious man, for a Romanist--and certainly was the most
respectable character, as an Italian gentleman, it was our good fortune
to meet in Italy. He and his wife communicated many things which we
could not otherwise have learned, and frequently, by introductions, put
us in the way of ascertaining matters in which they themselves could not
prudently appear. He used to say, that when the novices became nuns at
an early age, as eighteen or twenty, they seemed to be sufficiently
happy for two or three years; at least, that for that time there seemed
to be nothing remarkable; but that when they became old enough to see
and understand well what were the consequences of the step they had
taken, and that now there was no hope before them, they soon gave way to
sorrow and despair. He spoke with deep feeling of the effect of this on
the spirits and appearance of the young ladies. He stated that the
broken-hearted look--the shades of indelible sorrow--the lines of
settled and unalterable sadness--the expression of resentment or
despair--that characterised many of these young creatures, used to
affect his heart, sadden all his best feelings, and trouble his very
dreams. He could not think or speak of the subject without such feelings
that tears would come into his eyes; saying, that it was inconceivable
the number of nuns that went to an early grave under this system. Those
who awoke to the reality of their state, and thought of all the ties of
home and affection, and their exchange of all freedom for the dull
monotony and useless employments of the cloister, soon pined and
saddened, and sinking into despair, died of madness; while some others,
like gathered flowers, plucked from their native gardens, where they
might long have bloomed and gladdened the scene, soon faded and withered
and died. He always said that this was the melancholy destiny of the
greater portion; and that nothing on earth could induce him, with the
knowledge he possessed, to allow one of his daughters to take the veil;
for that _the majority of nuns at Rome died of madness before they were
five-and-twenty_ years of age!”--Pp. 181-183.
Surely no one can read this testimony concerning the condition of _nuns
at Rome_, without the deepest emotion and horror. The system that
requires it must be inhuman and execrable; and those who administer it,
though titled dignitaries in a priesthood, must be fearfully guilty. It
may be said that the ladies are carefully taught in their seclusion the
duties of religion, and directed to its divine consolations. But Mr.
Seymour further remarks on the morals and religion of the Roman nuns.
Referring to the testimony of his friend in the “papal court,” he says,
“Now all this, though very different from our notions on the subject,
seems very natural. There are some monasteries where the inmates have
many privileges and many comforts, and can enjoy the world in a measure.
There are some, too, where the nuns occupy themselves in the education
of the young, and this gives an object of interest to their hearts and
to their minds. But all these are the higher order of nunneries. The
great majority of the nunneries of Italy are very different. There are
no occupations for mind or body--there is no object before the mind; so
that, with thousands, the heart is left to prey upon itself. For the
greater part of the day, the sisters are left to themselves, to brood
over the remembrance of the past, or to talk to each other about
nothing. There they live, with far less enjoyment for the present, and
infinitely less hope for the future, than those ladies of an eastern
harem, on whom we think with so much compassion. They have no objects in
which they can take an interest; they have no persons on whom their
affections may be placed; and they have no means of being practically
useful to others.
“Such a state of existence is not conducive to the growth of a true and
healthful religion in the soul. Accordingly it is found, that wherever
there is religion in a nunnery, it runs into that wild and prurient
thing that we rightly call ‘_monomania_,’ and results in the most
extravagant claims to visions and revelations. It is the religion of
madness; or perhaps, more correctly speaking, it is madness taking the
direction of religion.
“Once, my wife and myself, in company with a married couple of Italians,
were in consultation with two nuns related to our friends, one of whom
was stating that no man except the Pope himself was ever permitted to
enter that monastery. This she spoke of as a privilege of which they had
some right to be proud. But while she was speaking, the confessor made
his appearance! He was a good-natured, merry-looking man, of about
thirty-five years of age. I have often been struck with the fact, that
in almost every instance the confessors of these nunneries were younger
men than myself, even when I was married. On his withdrawal, I asked the
nun, of what use was the confessor? She replied that it was necessary
for the nuns to confess their sins. I said, that I understood they had
entered the nunnery to escape the sins of the world; and I asked, as all
temptation to sin was thus supposed to be excluded, what kind of sins
had they to confess. The question perplexed them not a little, and they
could answer me only by laughing. I persevered, however, and at length
they told me, that the nuns had so many quarrels and differences among
themselves, that it led to much that required confession and absolution!
I thanked them for the information, and only remarked that this showed
that, after all, the lofty walls and iron bars of a nunnery were no
protection against sin.
“It is a curious fact, that in all the lives of holy and sainted nuns
that have been given to the world, the arch-tempter is always described
as tempting them through the passions. He invariably is made to appear
_in the form of a very handsome young man_! It is equally observable,
that in the lives of holy monks and sainted friars, the arch-enemy is
usually said to have appeared _in the form of a very lovely young
female_! All this is very natural; and it shows, that even within the
walls of both the monastery and the convent, the monks and the nuns are
sometimes thinking of other subjects than those of heaven!”--Pp.
183-186.
Although the internal economy of nunneries is generally concealed with
the utmost vigilance from the public, yet many things transpire at Rome,
from time to time, that indicate the state of morals among their
occupants, and to demonstrate the wickedness that is practised by them
in secret. Mr. Seymour states some fearful facts. He remarks,--“Every
one who knows anything of Italy, and especially of Rome, is aware that
the most debauched and profligate characters in the land are among these
inmates of the cloister. At present, the question concerns the moral
character of the nunneries. So many things have of late years been
stated--so many narratives of vice have been published--so many personal
histories of victims to the system have been given--and so much has been
said and written as to the dangers of the confessional, that I feel
justified in saying a few words as to the moral state of the nunneries
in Italy.
“I entertain a favourable opinion of many of these nunneries; believing
that they realise that for which they are designed, namely, a safe
retreat for unprotected females, and are conducted in a manner that
bespeaks a moral and religious sisterhood. But I entertain a less
favourable opinion of others. It should ever be remembered, however,
that from the very nature of some of these establishments, _there is no
possibility of knowing what passes within them. Immured within those
lofty walls and iron bars, none can go forth to reveal what may have
passed within_: so that, though possibly _the most hideous forms of vice
may reign throughout--though every chamber may be a polluted
place--though violence and murder may stain every gallery_; yet there is
no voice to tell it to the world. I have already stated that an official
gentleman, who, at times, was obliged to attend the cardinal-vicar at
the formal visitation of monasteries, gave us some information on the
subject. His wife informed my wife, that on one occasion, shortly before
our visit to Rome, they found in a nunnery, which they named, and which
was not ten minutes’ walk from our residence, that no less than _four_
of the nuns were _enceinte_! They were immediately removed to another
establishment; the reverend confessor was removed elsewhere, and the
whole affair was kept as secret as possible. _It would never have been
known_, were it not that this nunnery was one of those whose inmates are
occupied in teaching the young ladies of Rome, and young ladies _will_
talk. And matters became more canvassed, owing to the impression that
the poor confessor was only a scape-goat for a higher personage, whose
guilt was to be concealed by the dismissal of a subaltern.
“But there are some establishments from which even this suspicion could
never go forth. They are so closely kept, that mortal eye can never see
the _intima penetralia_. The ‘_sepulte vive_,’ for example, that is, the
‘_buried alive_,’ are establishments of this kind. The young creature,
as a part of the ceremonial of admission, is laid alive in her coffin;
and, when once admitted, she is, in fact, as if dead and buried to her
friends; for she is never allowed to see again father or mother, brother
or sister! Once a year, on an appointed day, the parents of the ‘buried
alive,’ may attend at the nunnery, and the young creature within may
hear their loved and familiar voices, but she must never see them; and,
as no kind of intercourse is ever permitted, she can never know whether
they are living or dead, except as she hears or does not hear their
voices on that day. If a parent has died during the year, the abbess
assembles the nuns, she tells them that the parent of one of them is
dead, and desires all to pray for the soul of the departed; but she
never reveals the name of the dead; so that all the nuns are left in a
state of agonising suspense, till the one day comes round, and all
listen to catch the tone of their parents’ voices; and the absence of
the longed-for voice tells the tale of the bereaved recluse! Such, at
least, is the account the Romans give of these establishments, which
thus seem the very climax of cruelty, rending and agonising the hearts
of the inmates, under the pretence of a desire to wean them from the
world!”--Pp. 186-188.
Language fails to characterise this system of manifold iniquity and
refined barbarity. But deeds even worse than these may well be imagined.
Mr. Seymour observes, therefore, “But that which concerns our present
subject is the veil of secresy that covers all within such
establishments as these. There may be--I must not say there is--there
may possibly be the most frightful vice--there may be the most ruffian
violence--there may possibly be the veriest climax of profligacy--there
may possibly be all this, and the public never know it. History has
recorded the fact, that in the apartments of the inquisitors of Spain
there were found _sixty-two_ young women, who had been corrupted and
ruined by the inquisitors, and kept there where the public can never
know it. The French soldiery flung open the Inquisition, and revealed
the secret.” [See Chapter XIX.] “_There is no security against the same
evil in a very large proportion of the nunneries; for every crime of
earth and hell may possibly be rife throughout their cloisters, and the
cry of innocence and outraged virtue, stifled within the walls, may
remain unheard by the world without._ While we were at Rome, an abbess
of one of the nunneries rushed forth frantically from the opened gates,
plunged into the Tiber, and there sought, in its deep waters, to drown
the memory and remorse of the past! We were surprised at the pains taken
to deny and conceal this fact, though known and witnessed by hundreds.
The ecclesiastics could not bear to hear it mentioned!”--Pp. 188, 189.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE “VIRGIN MARY” OPENED.]
[Illustration: FRONT VIEW AND PROFILE OF THE “VIRGIN MARY.”]