Oh! Jane, how we wished for you yesterday! Early in the morning we
received a note from Madame F---- saying, that if the ladies of our
party would like to witness the ceremony of "taking the veil," and
would repair to her house by nine o'clock, she would accompany them to
a neighboring convent where it was to be performed about the hour of
ten. The Abbess being her friend and cousin, she had obtained her
consent to our attending on the occasion in case we wished it. We
_wished_ it, you may be sure, and her kindness was eagerly and
thankfully accepted. On reaching the convent its portal was opened by
two of the sisterhood, who greeted Madame F---- very cordially, made
their curtsies to us, and then conducted us to the gallery of a small
chapel, the main body of which was filled with nuns clad in black, and
seated on rows of benches each side of the aisle. In the centre of it,
upon a damask chair, sat a young lady richly dressed. She wore a
yellow silk frock trimmed with lace, white satin shoes, long white kid
gloves, and ornaments of pearl. A wreath of orange blossoms mingled
and contrasted with her dark hair, and were partly concealed by a
flowing veil. Madame F---- related her history, and to our surprise we
learned she was an English girl who had been placed in the convent at
an early age to be educated. As might have been expected, associating
so constantly and closely with Catholics from childhood, she became
one herself; and when her parents came over to France for the purpose
of carrying her home, they found her resolved on becoming a nun.
Having tried in vain to dissuade her from it, they at length yielded
to her entreaties, and were even present when she took the vows; and
as they did not appear distressed on the occasion, I suppose they had
finally become reconciled to their bereavement. I wonder they did not
_compel_ her to relinquish her determination. But to proceed to the
ceremony. Long prayers were said, incense scattered, and a fine hymn
chanted--the novice kneeling down before a table covered with a
crimson cloth, and reclining her head upon it, in humble submission to
that Divine Power to whom she was dedicating her heart and days! When
the music ceased the Abbess advanced, and taking her hand, led her out
through a side door; and while they were absent, a nun distributed
among the sisterhood a number of large wax candles, which she
afterwards illumined. The Abbess now re-entered with her charge, and
prayers and incense were again offered, a second hymn sung, and the
novice had her hair, or a portion of it, cut off; she then prostrated
herself before the altar, and a black pall was cast over her, to
signify she was dead to the world. On rising, she retired a second
time with the Superior, and in a few minutes re-appeared, clad in the
habiliments of the cloister, and went round the chapel to receive the
kiss of congratulation and welcome from each of the community; after
which the lights were extinguished, and every one departed, leaving
her to solitude, meditation and prayer, until the vesper bell should
tell the hour for rejoining her. How awful I felt while a spectator of
the solemn scene; and how strange, is it not? that reflecting beings
who know the fickleness of human nature--that "nature's mighty law is
change," can venture thus to bind themselves for life to stay in one
limited space, and pursue one unvaried mode of existence! I hope and
think I love religion truly; but I am sure if I were a _saint_ upon
earth, I should never hide my light in a monastery. I ought to
mention, that except the father and brothers of the new nun, no
gentlemen were admitted to the ceremony; and I ought also to state
that she was very pretty. Leonora says that notwithstanding the scene
and place, she was constantly imagining the interference of some brave
youth, to save the fair creature from her fate, by rushing in and
bearing her off by force; but alas! the age of chivalry is long past,
and now-a-days a _hero_ in _love_ would be thought a prodigy and hard
to find, unless perhaps, he was sought for is a certain old fashioned
fabric in the vicinity of Morven Lodge. _There_, peradventure, such an
_odd personage might be discovered_.
From the convent we drove to what is called the "Palace of the Warm
Baths." This is a relic of Roman antiquity. In it, the Roman emperors,
and after their dominion ceased in France, the French monarchs, used
to reside. Its foundation is attributed to Julian the Apostate. The
sole remaining apartments consist of an extensive and lofty hall, and
some cells beneath it. The hall is lighted by an immense arched
window, and its vaulted roof for several ages supported a garden. By
this we may judge how firmly and strongly the Romans used to build. I
cannot, for lack of space, express to you the kind messages with which
I am charged. Suffice it to know, we all love you dearly.