THE NURSERY.
While in the White Nunnery, I spent the most of my time in the nursery.
But the name gives one no idea of the place. The freedom and careless
gayety, so characteristic of other nurseries, had no place in this. No
cheerful conversation, no juvenile merriment, or pleasureable excitement
of any kind, were ever allowed. A merry laugh, on the contrary, a witty
jest, or a sly practical joke, would have been punished as the most
heinous offence. Here as elsewhere in the establishment, the strictest
rules of silence and obedience were rigidly enforced. There were twenty
little girls in the room with me, but we were never permitted to speak
to each other, nor to any one except a priest or a Superior. When
directly addressed by either of them we were allowed to answer; but we
might never ask a question, or make a remark, or in any way, either by
looks, words, or signs, hold communication with each other. Whenever we
did so, it was at the risk of being discovered and severely punished.
Yet this did not repress the desire for conversation; it only made us
more cautious, artful, and deceptive. The only recreation allowed us
was fifteen minutes' exercise in the yard every morning and evening. We
might then amuse ourselves as we chose, but were required to spend
the whole time in some kind of active exercise; if one of our number
ventured to sit still, we were all punished the next day by being kept
in the house.
It was my business, while in the nursery, to dust all the furniture
and the floor, with a flannel mop, made and kept for this purpose. The
floors were all painted and varnished, and very easily kept clean.
Two hours and a half each day we spent with a priest, whom we were
taught to call Father Darity (I do not know as I spell this and other
names correctly, but I give it to the reader as it sounded to my ear).
He appeared to take great pleasure in learning us to repeat the prayers
and catechism required by Priest Dow. He also gave us a variety of
instructions in other things, enjoining in particular the most absolute
obedience and perfect silence. He assured us that if we dared to disobey
him in the least particular, he should know it, even if he was not
present with us at the time. He said he knew all our thoughts, words,
and actions; and if we did not obey, he should "EAT US WITH A GRAIN OF
SALT."
I presume my reader will smile at this, and exclaim, "How absurd!" Yes,
to you it is absurd; but to the mind of a child who placed the utmost
confidence in his veracity, it was an evidence that he was invested
with supernatural powers. For myself I believed every word he said,
and nothing would have tempted me to disobey him. Perfect obedience he
considered the highest attainment, and, to secure this, the greatest of
all virtues, no means were thought too severe. We were frightened and
punished in every possible way.
But, though Father Darity acted on the one great principle with the
Romanists, that the "end sanctifies the means," he was in general a much
kinder man than Priest Dow. He urged us on with our catechism as fast as
possible, telling us, as a motive to greater diligence, that the bishop
was soon to visit us, and that we could not be admitted to his presence
until we had our prayers and catechism perfectly.
One day, when we were in the yard at play, I told one of the little
girls that I did not like to live there; that I did not like one of the
people in the house; that I wished to return to my father, and I should
tell him so the first time he came to see me.
"Then you like to live with your father?" said she. I told her I did,
for then I could do as I pleased, without the fear of punishment. She
said that she did not like to live there any better than I did. I asked
her why she did not go away, if she disliked to stay. She replied, "I
should like to go away well enough, if I had any friends to go to; but
my father and mother are both dead, and I have no home but this; so you
see I must stay here if they wish me to; but there is one consolation;
if we are good girls, and try to do right, they will be kind to us." I
made no further remark; but the moment we returned to the house she
told the Superior what I said, taking good care not to repeat her own
expressions, and leaving the Superior to infer that she had made no
reply.
I saw at once by the stern look that came over the lady's face that she
was very angry; and I would gladly have recalled those few hasty words
had it been in my power to have done so. She immediately left the room,
but soon returned with Priest Dow. His countenance also indicated
anger, as he took hold of my arm and led me to a darkened room, in which
several candles were burning.
Here I saw three scenes, which I think must have been composed of
images, pictures, and curtains. I do not pretend to describe them
correctly, I can only tell how they appeared to me.
The first was an image of Christ on the cross, with his arms extended as
we usually see them in pictures. On his right hand was a representation
of heaven, and on the left, of hell. Heaven was made to appear like a
bright, beautiful, and glorious place. A wall of pink color surrounded
it, and in the center was a spring of clear water. In the midst of this
spring stood a tree, bearing on every limb a lighted candle, and on the
top, the image of Christ and a dove.
Hell was surrounded by a black wall, within which, there was also a
spring; but the water was very black, and beside it stood a large black
image, with horns on its head, a long tail, and a large cloven foot. The
place where it stood was in deep shadow, made to resemble, as neatly
as possible, clouds and darkness. The priest led me up to this fearful
object, and placed me on one side of it, while he stood on the other;
but it would turn away from him towards me, roll up its great eyes, open
its mouth and show its long white tusks. The priest said it turned from
him, because he was a good man, and I was very wicked. He said that it
was the devil, come up from the bottomless pit to devour me; and if I
said such wicked words again, it would carry me off. I was very much
frightened, for I then thought that all he said was true; that those
images, which I now know were strung on wires were really what they were
made to represent.
In fact, until I was fifteen years old, I really believed that the image
I then saw was an evil spirit. But since that time, I have been made
to know that the priests themselves are the only evil spirits about the
place.
Priest Dow then led me back to the nursery, and left me with the
Superior. But he soon came, back, saying he "knew what I was thinking
about; that I had wicked thoughts about him; thought he was a bad man,
and that I wished to leave him and go to my father;" Now this was all
true, and the fact that he knew it, frightened me accordingly. It was a
sure proof that what Father Darity said was true. But how could I ever
be safe, if they could thus read the inmost secrets of my soul? I did
dislike them all very much indeed and I could not help it. How then
could I avert the consequences of this deep aversion to convent life,
since it could not be concealed? Was it possible for me so far to
conquer myself, as to love the persons with whom I lived? How many
nights did I lie awake pondering this question, and resolving to make
the effort. I was, of course, too young to know that it was only by
shrewd guessing, and a general knowledge of human nature, that he was
enabled to tell my thoughts so correctly.
"Now," said he, "for indulging these dreadful thoughts, I shall take you
back to the devil, and give you up to him." I was frightened before; but
I have no words to describe my feelings when he again led me back, and
left me beside the image, saying, as he closed the door, "If the devil
groans three times, and the Lord does not speak, you must stay here
until to-morrow at this time." I trembled so that I could hardly stand,
and when, after a few moments, a sound like a groan fell upon my ears, I
shrieked in the extremity of terror.
[Footnote: Cioui, formerly a Benedictine Monk, giving an account of his
imprisonment at Rome, after his conversion says:--
"One evening, after listening to a discourse filled with dark images of
death, I returned to my room, and found the light set upon the ground.
I took it up and approached the table to place it there, but what was
my horror and consternation at beholding spread out upon it, a whitened
skeleton! Before the reader can comprehend my dismay, it is necessary
he should reflect for a moment on the peculiarities of childhood,
especially in a Romish country, where children are seldom spoken to
except in superstitious language, whether by their parents or teachers:
and domestics adopt the same style to answer their own purposes,
menacing their disobedient charges with hobgoblins, phantoms and
witches. Such images as these make a profound impression on tender
minds, leaving a panic terror which the reasoning of after years is
often unable entirely to efface. There can be no doubt but that this
pernicious habit, is the fruit of the noxious plant fostered in the
Vatican. Rising generations must be brought up in superstitious terror,
in order to render them susceptible to every kind of absurdity; for this
terror is the powerful spring, employed by the priests and friars, to
move at their pleasure families, cities, provinces, nations. Although
in families of the higher order, this method of alarming infancy is much
discountenanced, nevertheless, it is impossible but that it should in
some degree prevail in the nursery. Nor was it probable that I should
escape this infections malady, having passed my whole days in an
atmosphere, charged more than any other with that impure miasma
priest-craft."]
Then immediately I heard the question, and it seemed to come from the
figure of Christ, "Will you obey? Will you leave off sin?" I answered in
the affirmative as well as I could, for the convulsive sobs that shook
my frame almost stopped my utterance. I now know that when the priest
left me, he placed himself, or an assistant, behind a curtain close to
the images, and it was his voice that I heard. But I was then too young
to detect their treacherous practices and deceitful ways.
On being taken back to the Superior, I was immediately attacked with
severe illness, and had fits all night. It seemed to me that I could
see that image of the devil everywhere. If I closed my eyes, I thought
I could feel him on my bed, pressing on my breast, and he was so heavy I
could scarcely breathe. I was very sick, and suffered much bodily pain,
but the tortures of an excited imagination were greater by far, and
harder to bear than any physical suffering. For long years after, that
image haunted my dreams, and even now I often, in sleep, live over again
the terrors of that fearful scene. I was sick a long time; how long I do
not know; but I became so weak I could not raise myself in bed, and they
had an apparatus affixed to the wall to raise me with. For several days
I took no nourishment, except a teaspoonful of brandy and water which
was given me as often as I could take it I continued to have fits every
day for more than two years, nor did I ever entirely recover from the
effects of that fright. Even now, though years have passed away, a
little excitement or a sudden shock, will sometimes throw me into one of
those fits.