HORRORS OF STARVATION.
One day a woman came into my cell, dressed in white, a white cap on
her head, and so very pale she looked more like a corpse than a living
person. She came up to me with her mouth wide open, and stood gazing
at me for a moment in perfect silence. She then asked, "Where have you
been?" "Into the world," I replied. "How did you like the world?" "Very
well," said I. She paused a moment, and then asked, "Did you find your
friends?" "No, ma'am," said I, "I did not." Another pause, and then she
said, "Perhaps you will if you go again." "No," I replied, "I shall not
try again." "You had better try it once more," she added, and I thought
there was a slight sneer in her tone; "Perhaps you may succeed better
another time." "No," I replied, "I shall not try to run away from the
nunnery again. I should most assuredly be caught and brought back, and
then they would make me suffer so much, I assure you I shall never do it
again." She looked at me a moment as though she would read my very soul,
and said, "And so you did not find your friends, after all, did you?" I
again told her that I did not, and she seemed satisfied with the result
of her questioning. When she came in, I was pleased to see her, and
thought I would ask her for something to eat, or at least for a little
cold water. But she seemed so cold-hearted, so entirely destitute of
sympathy or kind feeling, I had no courage to speak to her, for I felt
that it would do no good. Perhaps I misjudged her. I knew from her looks
that she must have been a great sufferer; but I have heard it said that
extreme suffering sometimes hardens instead of softening the heart,
and I believe it. It seemed to me that this woman had suffered so much
herself, that every kind feeling was crushed out of her soul. I was glad
when she left me, locking the door after her.
Four days they kept me in this cell, and for five days and nights I had
not tasted food or drink. I endured the most intolerable agonies from
hunger and thirst. The suffering produced by hunger, when it becomes
actual starvation, is far beyond anything that I can imagine. There
is no other sensation that can be compared to it, and no language can
describe it. One must feel it in order to realize what it is. The
first two days I amused myself by walking round my room and trying to
conjecture the use to which the various instruments were applied. Then
I became so weak I could only think of eating and drinking. I sometimes
fell asleep, but only to dream of loaded tables and luxurious feasts.
Yet I could never taste the luxuries thus presented. Whenever I
attempted to do so, they would be snatched away, or I would wake to
find it all a dream. Driven to a perfect frenzy by the intensity of my
sufferings, I would gladly have eaten my own flesh. Well was it for me
that no sharp instrument was at hand, for as a last resort I more than
once attempted to tear open my veins with my teeth.
This severe paroxysm passed away, and I sank into a state of partial
unconsciousness, in which I remained until I was taken out of the cell.
I do not believe I should have lived many hours longer, nor should I
ever have been conscious of much more suffering. With me the "bitterness
of death had passed," and I felt disappointed and almost angry to be
recalled to a life of misery. I begged them to allow me to die. It was
the only boon I craved. But this would have been too merciful; moreover,
they did not care to lose my services in the kitchen. I was a good
drudge for them, and they wished to restore me on the same principle
that a farmer would preserve the life of a valuable horse.
I do not remember leaving the cell. The first thing I realized they were
placing me in a chair in the kitchen, and allowed me to lean my head
upon the table. They gave me some gruel, and I soon revived so that I
could sit up in my chair and speak in a whisper. But it was some hours
before I could stand on my feet or speak loud. An Abbess was in the
kitchen preparing bread and wine for the priests (they partake of
these refreshments every day at ten in the morning and three in the
afternoon). She brought a pailful of wine and placed it on the table
near me, and left a glass standing beside it. When she turned away, I
took the glass, dipped up a little of the wine, and drank it. She saw
me do it, but said not a word, and I think she left it there for that
purpose. The wine was very strong, and my stomach so weak, I soon began
to feel sick, and asked permission to go to bed. They took me up in
their arms and carried me to my old room and laid me on the bed. Here
they left me, but the Abbess soon returned with some gruel made very
palatable with milk and sugar. I was weak, and my hand trembled so that
I could not feed myself; but the Abbess kindly sat beside me and fed me
until I was satisfied. I had nothing more to eat until the next day at
eleven o'clock, when the Abbess again brought me some bread and gruel,
and a cup of strong tea. She requested me to drink the tea as quick as
possible, and then she concealed the mug in which she brought it.
I was now able to feed myself, and you may be sure I had an excellent
appetite, and was not half so particular about my food as some persons
I have since known. I lay in bed till near night, when I rose, dressed
myself without assistance, and went down to the kitchen. I was so weak
and trembled so that I could hardly manage to get down stairs; but
I succeeded at last, for a strong will is a wonderful incentive to
efficient action.
In the kitchen I met the Lady Superior. She saw how weak I was, and as
she assisted me to a chair, she said, "I should not have supposed that
you could get down here alone. Have you had anything to eat to-day?" I
was about to say yes, but one of the nuns shook her head at me, and I
replied "No." She then brought some bread and wine, requesting me to eat
it quick, for fear some of the priests might come in and detect us. Thus
I saw that she feared the priests as well as the rest of us. Truly,
it was a terrible crime she had committed! No wonder she was afraid
of being caught! Giving a poor starved nun a piece of bread, and then
obliged to conceal it as she would have done a larceny or a murder!
Think of it, reader, and conceive, if you can, the state of that
community where humanity is a crime--where mercy is considered a
weakness of which one should be ashamed! If a pirate or a highwayman had
been guilty of treating a captive as cruelly as I was treated by those
priests, he would have been looked upon as an inhuman monster, and at
once given up to the strong grasp of the law. But when it is done by a
priest, under the cloak of Religion, and within the sacred precincts of
a nunnery, people cry out, when the tale is told, "Impossible!" "What
motive could they have had?" "It cannot be true," etc. But whether
the statement is believed or otherwise, it is a fact that in the Grey
Nunnery at Montreal the least exhibition of a humane spirit was
punished as a crime. The nun who was found guilty of showing mercy to a
fellow-sufferer was sure to find none herself.
From this time I gained very fast, for the Abbess saw how hungry I was,
and she would either put food in my way, or give me privately what I
wished to eat. In two weeks I was able to go to work in the kitchen
again. But those I had formerly seen there were gone. I never knew what
became of the sick nun, nor could I learn anything about the one who ran
away with me. I thought that the men who brought me to St. Regis, were
kept there to go after her, but I do not know whether they found her
or not. For myself, I promised so solemnly, and with such apparent
sincerity, that I would never leave the nunnery again, I was believed
and trusted. Had I been kindly treated, had my life been even tolerable,
my conscience would have reproached me for deceiving them, but as it
was, I felt that I was more "sinned against, than sinning." I could not
think it wrong to get away, if the opportunity presented, and for this I
was constantly on the watch. Every night I lay awake long after all
the rest were buried in slumber, trying to devise some plan, by which
I could once more regain my liberty. And who can blame me? Having
just tasted the sweets of freedom, how could I be content to remain in
servitude all my life? Many a time have I left my bed at night, resolved
to try to escape once more, but the fear of detection would deter me
from the attempt.
In the discharge of my daily duties, I strove to the utmost of my
ability to please my employers. I so far succeeded, that for five weeks
after my return I escaped punishment. Then, I made a slight mistake
about my work, though I verily thought I was doing it according to the
direction. For this, I was told that I must go without two meals, and
spend three days in the torture room. I supposed it was the same room I
was in before, but I was mistaken. I was taken into the kitchen cellar,
and down a flight of stairs to another room directly under it. From
thence, a door opened into another subterranean apartment which they
called the torture room. These doors were so constructed, that a casual
observer would not be likely to notice them. I had been in that cellar
many times, but never saw that door until I was taken through it. A
person might live in the nunnery a life-time, and never see or hear
anything of such a place. I presume those visitors who call at the
school-rooms, go over a part of the house, and leave with the impression
that the convent is a nice place, will never believe my statements about
this room. Nor can we wonder at their skepticism. It is exceedingly
difficult for pure minds to conceive how any human being can be so
fearfully depraved. Knowing the purity of their own intentions, and
judging others by themselves, it is not strange that they regard such
tales of guilt and terror as mere fabrications, put forth to gratify the
curiosity of the wonder-loving crowd.