ORPHAN'S HOME.
The Grey Nunnery is said to be an orphan's home, and no effort is spared
to make visitors believe that this is the real character of the house.
I suppose it is true that one part of it is devoted to this purpose; at
least my Superior informed me that many children were kept there; and
to those apartments visitors are freely admitted, but never to that part
occupied by the nuns. We were never allowed to communicate with people
from the world, nor with the children. In fact, during all the time I
was there, I never saw one of them, nor did I ever enter the rooms where
they were.
In the ladies' school there were three hundred scholars, and in our
part of the house two hundred and fifty nuns, besides the children who
belonged to the nunnery. Add to these the abbesses, superiors, priests,
and bishop, and one will readily imagine that the work for such a family
was no trifling affair.
In this nunnery the Bishop was the highest authority, and everything was
under his direction, unless the Pope's Nuncio, or some other high
church functionary was present. I sometimes saw one whom they called
the Archbishop, who was treated with great deference by the priests, and
even by the Bishop himself.
The Holy Mother, or Lady Superior, has power over all who have taken or
are preparing to take the veil. Under her other superiors or abbesses
are appointed over the various departments, whose duty it is to look
after the nuns and novices, and the children in training for nuns. The
most rigid espionage is kept up throughout the whole establishment; and
if any of these superiors or abbesses fail to do the duty assigned
them, they are more severely punished than the nuns. Whenever the Lady
Superior is absent the punishments are assigned by one of the priests.
Of these there were a large number in the nunnery; and whenever we
chanced to meet one of them, as we sometimes did when going about the
house, or whenever one of them entered the kitchen, we must immediately
fall upon our knees. No matter what we were doing, however busily
employed, or however inconvenient it might be, every thing must be
left or set aside, that this senseless ceremony might be performed. The
priest must be honored, and woe to the poor nun who failed to move with
sufficient alacrity; no punishment short of death itself was thought too
severe for such criminal neglect. Sometimes it would happen that I would
be engaged in some employment with my back to the door, and not observe
the entrance of a priest until the general movement around me would
arrest my attention; then I would hasten to "make my manners," as the
ceremony was called; but all too late. I had been remiss in duty, and no
excuse would avail, no apology be accepted, no forgiveness granted; the
dreaded punishment must come.
While the nuns are thus severely treated, the priests, and the Holy
Mother live a very easy life, and have all the privileges they wish.
So far as the things of this world are concerned, they seem to enjoy
themselves very well. But I have sometimes wondered if conscience did
not give them occasionally, an unpleasant twinge; and from some things I
have seen, I believe, that with many of them, this is the fact. They may
try to put far from them all thoughts of a judgment to come, yet I
do believe that their slumbers are sometimes disturbed by fearful
forebodings of a just retribution which may, after all, be in store for
them. But whatever trouble of mind they may have, they do not allow it
to interfere with their worldly pleasures, and expensive luxuries. They
have money enough, go when, and where they please, eat the richest food
and drink the choicest wines. In short, if sensual enjoyment was
the chief end of their existence, I do not know how they could act
otherwise. The Abbesses are sometimes allowed to go out, but not unless
they have a pass from one of the priests, and if, at any time, they have
reason to suspect that some one is discontented, they will not allow any
one to go out of the building without a careful attendant.
My Superior here, as in the White Nunnery, was very kind to me. I
sometimes feared she would share the fate of Father Darity, for she had
a kind heart, and was guilty of many benevolent acts, which, if known,
would have subjected her to very serious consequences. I became so much
attached to her, that my fears for her were always alarmed when she
called me her good little girl, or used any such endearing expression.
The sequel of my story will show that my fears were not unfounded; but
let me not anticipate. Sorrows will thicken fast enough, if we do not
hasten them.
I lived with this Superior one year before I was consecrated, and it
was, comparatively, a happy season. I was never punished unless it was
to save me from less merciful hands; and then I would be shut up in a
closet, or some such simple thing. The other four girls who occupied the
room with me, were consecrated at the same time.
The Bishop came to our room early one morning, and took us to the
chapel. At the door we were made to kneel, and then crawl on our hands
and knees to the altar, where sat a man, who we were told, was the
Archbishop. Two little boys came up from under the altar, with the
vesper lamp to burn incense. I suppose they were young Apostles, for
they looked very much like those we had seen at the White Nunnery, and
were dressed in the same manner. The Bishop turned his back, and they
threw incense on his head and shoulders, until he was surrounded by a
cloud of smoke. He bowed his head, smote upon his breast, and repeated
something in latin, or some other language, that we did not understand.
We were told to follow his example, and did so, as nearly as possible.
This ceremony over, the Bishop told us to go up on to the altar on our
knees, and when this feat was performed to his satisfaction, he placed a
crown of thorns upon each of our heads. These crowns were made of
bands of some firm material, which passed over the head and around the
forehead. On the inside thorns were fastened, with the points downward,
so that a very slight pressure would cause them to pierce the skin. This
I suppose is intended to imitate the crown of thorns which our Saviour
wore upon the cross. But what will it avail them to imitate the
crucifixion and the crown of thorns, while justice and mercy are so
entirely neglected? What will it avail to place a crown of thorns upon
a child's head, or to bid her kneel before the image of the Saviour, or
travel up stairs on her knees, while the way of salvation by Christ is
never explained to her; while of real religion, holiness of heart,
and purity of life she is as ignorant as the most benighted, degraded
heathen? Is it rational to suppose that the mere act of repeating
a prayer can heal the wounded spirit, or give peace to a troubled
conscience? Can the most cruel penance remove the sense of guilt, or
whisper hope to the desponding soul? Ah, no! I have tried it long enough
to speak with absolute certainty. For years I practiced these senseless
mummeries, and if there were any virtue, in them, I should, most
certainly have discovered it. But I know full well, and my reader knows
that they cannot satisfy the restless yearnings of the immortal mind.
They may delude the vulgar, but they cannot dispel the darkness of the
tomb, they cannot lead a soul to Christ.
On leaving the chapel after the ceremony, I found a new Superior,
waiting for us at the door to conduct us to our rooms. We were all very
much surprised at this, but she informed us that our old Superior died
that morning, that she was already buried, and she had come to take her
place. I could not believe this story, for she came to us as usual that
morning, appeared in usual health, though always very pale, and made no
complaint, or exhibited any signs of illness. She told us in her kind
and pleasant way that we were to be consecrated, gave us a few words of
advice, but said nothing about leaving us, and I do not believe she even
thought of such a thing. Little did I think, when she left us, that I
was never to see her again. But so it was. In just two hours and a half
from that time, we were told that she was dead and buried, and another
filled her place! A probable story, truly! I wonder if they thought we
believed it! But whether we did or not, that was all we could ever know
about it. No allusion was ever made to the subject, and nuns are not
allowed to ask questions. However excited we might feel, no information
could we seek as to the manner of her death. Whether she died by
disease, or by the hand of violence; whether her gentle spirit
peacefully winged its way to the bosom of its God, or was hastily driven
forth upon the dagger's point, whether some kind friend closed her eyes
in death, and decently robed her cold limbs for the grave, or whether
torn upon the agonizing rack, whether she is left to moulder away in
some dungeon's gloom, or thrown into the quickly consuming fire, we
could never know. These, and many other questions that might have been
asked, will never be answered until the last great day, when the grave
shall give up its dead, and, the prison disclose its secrets.
After the consecration we were separated, and only one of the girls
remained with me. The others I never saw again. We were put into a large
room, where were three beds, one large and two small ones. In the large
bed the Superior slept, while I occupied one of the small beds and the
other little nun the other. Our new Superior was very strict, and we
were severely punished for the least trifle--such, for instance, as
making a noise, either in our own room or in the kitchen. We might not
even smile, or make motions to each other, or look in each other's face.
We must keep our eyes on our work or on the floor, in token of humility.
To look a person full in the face was considered an unpardonable act of
boldness. On retiring for the night we were required to lie perfectly
motionless. We might not move a hand or foot, or even a finger. At
twelve the bell rang for prayers, when we must rise, kneel by our beds,
and repeat prayers until the second bell, when we again retired to rest.
On cold winter nights these midnight prayers were a most cruel penance.
It did seem as though I should freeze to death. But live or die, the
prayers must be said, and the Superior was always there to see that we
were not remiss in duty. If she slept at all I am sure it must have
been with one eye open, for she saw everything. But if I obeyed in this
thing, I found it impossible to lie as still as they required; I would
move when I was asleep without knowing it. This of course could not be
allowed, and for many weeks I was strapped down to my bed every night,
until I could sleep without the movement of a muscle. I was very anxious
to do as nearly right as possible, for I thought if they saw that I
strove with all my might to obey, they would perhaps excuse me if I did
fail to conquer impossibilities. In this, however, I was disappointed;
and I at length became weary of trying to do right, for they would
inflict severe punishments for the most trifling accident. In fact, if
I give anything like a correct account of my convent life, it will be
little else than a history of punishments. Pains, trials, prayers, and
mortifications filled up the time. Penance was the rule, to escape it
the exception.
I neglected at the proper time to state what name was given me when I
took the veil; I may therefore as well say in this place that my convent
name was Sister Agnes.