Jane Ray's Tricks continued--The Broomstick
Ghost--Sleep-walking--Salted Cider--Changing Beds--Objects of some of
her Tricks--Feigned Humility--Alarm--Treatment of a new Nun--A nun made
by stratagem.
One night, Jane, who had been sweeping the sleeping-room, for a
penance, dressed up the broom-stick, when she had completed her work,
with a white cloth on the end, so tied as to resemble an old woman
dressed in white, with long arms sticking out. This she stuck through a
broken pane of glass, and placed it so that it appeared to be looking
in at the window, by the font of holy water. There it remained until
the nuns came up to bed. The first who stopped at the font, to dip her
finger in, caught a glimpse of the singular object, and started with
terror. The next was equally terrified, as she approached, and the next
and the next.
We all believed in ghosts; and it was not wonderful that such an object
should cause alarm, especially as it was but a short time after the
death of one of the nuns. Thus they went on, each getting a fright in
turn, yet all afraid to speak. At length, one more alarmed, or with
less presence of mind than the rest, exclaimed, "Oh, mon Dieu! Je ne me
coucherais pas!" When the night-watch called out, "Who's that?" she
confessed she had broken silence, but pointed at the cause; and then,
all the nuns assembling at a distance from the window, Jane offered to
advance boldly, and ascertain the nature of the apparition, which they
thought a most resolute intention. We all stood looking on, when she
stepped to the window, drew in the broomstick, and showed us the
ridiculous puppet, which had alarmed so many superstitious fears.
Some of her greatest feats she performed as a sleep walker. Whether she
ever walked in her sleep or not, I am unable with certainty, to say.
She however often imposed upon the Superior and old nuns, by making
them think so, when I knew she did not; and yet, I cannot positively
say that she always did. I have remarked, that one of the old nuns was
always placed in our sleeping-room at night, to watch us. Sometimes she
would be inattentive, and sometimes fall into a doze. Jane Ray often
seized such times to rise from her bed, and walk about, occasionally
seizing one of the nuns in bed, in order to frighten her. This she
generally affected; and many times we have all been awakened, by
screams of terror. In our alarm, some of us frequently broke silence,
and gave occasion to the Superior to lay us under penances. Many tunes,
however, we escaped with a mere reprimand, while Jane usually received
expressions of compassion:--"Poor creature! she would not do so if she
were in perfect possession of her reason." And Jane displayed her
customary artfulness, in keeping up the false impression. As soon as
she perceived that the old nun was likely to observe her, she would
throw her arms about, or appear unconscious of what she was doing,
falling upon a bed, or standing stock-still, until exertions had been
made to rouse her from her supposed lethargy.
We were once allowed to drink cider at dinner, which was quite an
extraordinary favour. Jane, however, on account of her negligence of
all work, was denied the privilege, which she much resented. The next
day when dinner arrived, we began to taste our new drink, but it was so
salt we could not swallow it. Those of us who at first discovered it,
were, as usual, afraid to speak; but we set down our cups, and looked
round, till the others made the same discovery, which they all soon
did, and most of them in the same manner. Some, however, at length,
taken by surprise, uttered some ludicrous exclamation, on tasting the
salted cider, and then an old nun, looking cross, would cry out:--
"Ah! tu casses la silence!" (Ah! you've broken silence.)
And thus we soon got a-laughing, beyond our power of suppressing it. At
recreation, that day, the first question asked by many of us, was, "How
did you like your cider?"
Jane Ray never had a fixed place to sleep in. When the weather began to
grow warm in the spring, she usually pushed some bed out of its place,
near a window, and put her own beside it; and when the winter
approached, she would choose a spot near the stove, and occupy it with
her bed, in spite of all remonstrance. We were all convinced that it
was generally best to yield to her.
She was often set to work, in different ways; but, whenever she was
dissatisfied with doing any thing, would devise some trick that would
make the Superior, or old nuns, drive her off; and whenever any
suspicion was expressed, of her being in her right mind, she would say,
that she did not know what she was doing; that all the difficulty arose
from her repeating prayers too much, which wearied and distracted her
mind.
I was once directed to assist Jane Ray, in shifting the beds of the
nuns. When we came to those of some of the sisters, whom she most
disliked, she said, now we will pay them for some of the penances we
have suffered on their account; and taking some thistles, she mixed
them with the straw. At night, the first of them who got into bed, felt
the thistles, and cried out. The night-watch exclaimed, as usual, "You
are breaking silence there." And then another screamed, as she was
scratched by the thistles and another. The old nun then called on all
who had broken silence to rise, and ordered them to sleep under their
beds, as a penance, which they silently complied with. Jane and I
afterward confessed, when it was all over, and took some trifling
penance which the priest imposed.
Those nuns who fell most under the displeasure of mad Jane Ray, as I
have intimated before, were those who had the reputation of being most
ready to inform of the trifling faults of others and especially those
who acted without any regard to honour, by disclosing what they had
pretended to listen to in confidence. Several of the worst tempered
"saints" she held in abhorrence; and I have heard her say, that such
and such, she abominated. Many a trick did she play upon these, some of
which were painful to them in their consequences, and a good number of
them have never been traced to this day. Of all the nuns, however, none
other was regarded by her with so much detestation as Saint Hypolite;
for she was always believed to have betrayed Saint Francis, and to have
caused her murder. She was looked upon by us as the voluntary cause of
her death, and of the crime which those of us committed, who,
unwillingly, took part in her execution. We, on the contrary, being
under the worst of fears for ourselves, in case of refusing to obey our
masters and mistress, thought ourselves chargeable with less guilt, as
unwilling assistants in a scene, which it was impossible for us to
prevent or delay. Jane has often spoken to me of the suspected
informer, and always in terms of the greatest bitterness.
The Superior sometimes expressed commiseration for mad Jane Ray, but I
never could tell whether she really believed her insane or not. I was
always inclined to think that she was willing to put up with some of
her tricks, because they served to divert our minds from the painful
and depressing circumstances in which we were placed. I knew the
Superior's powers and habits of deception also, and that she would
deceive us as willingly as any one else.
Sometimes she proposed to send Jane to St. Anne's, a place near Quebec,
celebrated for the pilgrimages made to it by persons differently
afflicted. It is supposed that some peculiar virtue exists there, which
will restore health to the sick; and I have heard stories told in
corroboration of the common belief. Many lame and blind persons, with
others, visit St. Anne's every year, some of whom may be seen
travelling on foot, and begging their food. The Superior would
sometimes say that it was a pity that a woman like Jane Ray, capable of
being so useful, should be unable to do her duties in consequence of a
malady which she thought might be cured by a visit to St Anne's.
Yet to St. Anne's Jane never was sent, and her wild and various tricks
continued as before. The rules of silence, which the others were so
scrupulous in observing, she set at naught every hour; and as for other
rules, she regarded them with as little respect when they stood in her
way. She would now and then step out and stop the clock by which our
exercises were regulated, and sometimes, in this manner, lengthened out
our recreations till near twelve. At last the old nuns began to watch
against such a trick, and would occasionally go out to see if the clock
was going.
She once made a request that she might not eat with the other nuns,
which was granted, as it seemed to proceed from a spirit of genuine
humility, which made her regard herself as unworthy of our society.
It being most convenient, she was sent to the Superior's table to make
her meals after her; and it did not at first occur to the Superior,
that Jane, in this manner, profited by the change, by getting much
better food than the rest of us. Thus there seemed to be always
something deeper than anybody at first suspected, at the bottom of
everything she did.
She was once directed to sweep a community-room, under the
sleeping-chamber. This office had before been assigned to the other
nuns, as a penance; but the Superior, considering that Jane Ray did
little or nothing, determined thus to furnish her with some employment.
She declared to us that she would not sweep it long, as we might soon
be assured. It happened that the stove by which that community-room was
warmed in the winter, had its pipe carried through the floor of our
sleeping-chamber, and thence across it, in a direction opposite that in
which the pipe of our stove was carried. It being then warm weather,
the first-mentioned pipe had been taken down, and the hole left
unstopped. After we had all retired to our beds, and while engaged in
our silent prayers, we were suddenly alarmed by a bright blaze of fire,
which burst from the hole in the floor, and threw sparks all around us.
We thought the building was burning, and uttered cries of terror
regardless of the penances, the fear of which generally kept us silent.
The utmost confusion prevailed; for although we had solemnly vowed
never to flee from the Convent even if it was on fire, we were
extremely alarmed, and could not repress our feelings. We soon learnt
the cause, for the flames ceased in a moment or two, and it was found
that mad Jane Ray, after sweeping a little in the room beneath, had
stuck a quantity of wet powder on the end of her broom, thrust it up
through the hole in the ceiling into our apartment, and with a lighted
paper set it on fire.
The date of this alarm I must refer to a time soon after that of the
election riots, for I recollect that she found means to get possession
of some of the powder which was prepared at that time, for an emergency
to which some thought the Convent was exposed.
She once asked for pen and paper, and when the Superior told her that
if she wrote to her friends she must see it, she replied, that it was
for no such purpose; she wanted to write her confession, and thus make
it once for all. She wrote it, handed it to the priest, and he gave it
to the Superior, who read it to us. It was full of offences which she
had never committed, evidently written to throw ridicule on
confessions, and one of the most ludicrous productions I ever saw.
Our bedsteads were made with narrow boards laid across them, on which
the beds were laid. One day, while we were in the bedchamber together,
she proposed that we should misplace these boards. This was done, so
that at night nearly a dozen nuns fell down upon the floor on getting
into bed. A good deal of confusion naturally ensued, but the authors
were not discovered. I was so conscience-stricken, however, that a week
afterward, while we examined our consciences together, I told her I
must confess the sin the next day. She replied, "Do as you like, but
you will be sorry for it."
The next day, when we came before the Superior, I was just going to
kneel and confess, when Jane, almost without giving me time to shut the
door, threw herself at the Superior's feet, and confessed the trick,
and a penance was immediately laid on me for the sin I had concealed.
There was an old nun, who was a famous talker, whom used to call La
Mère, (Mother). One night, Jane Ray got up, and secretly changed the
caps of several of the nuns, and hers among the rest. In the morning
there was great confusion, and such a scene as seldom occurred. She was
severely blamed by La Mère, having been informed against by some of the
nuns; and at last became so much enraged, that she attacked the old
woman, and even took her by the throat. La Mère called on all present
to come to her assistance, and several nuns interfered. Jane seized the
opportunity afforded in the confusion to beat some of her worst enemies
quite severely, and afterwards said, that she had intended to kill some
of the rascally informers.
For a time Jane made us laugh so much at prayers, that the Superior
forbade her going down with us to morning prayers, and she took the
opportunity to sleep in the morning. When this was found out, she was
forbidden to get into her bed again after leaving it, and then she
would creep under it and take a nap on the floor. This she told us of
one day, but threatened us if we ever betrayed her. At length, she was
missed at breakfast, as she would sometimes oversleep herself, and the
Superior began to be more strict, and always inquired, in the morning
whether Jane Ray was in her place. When the question was general, none
of us answered; but when it was addressed to some nun near her by name,
as, "Saint Eustace, is Jane Ray in her place?" then we had to reply.
Of all the scenes that occurred during my stay in the Convent, there
was none which excited the delight of Jane more than one which took
place in the chapel one day at mass, though I never had any particular
reason to suppose that she had brought it about.
Some person, unknown to me to this day, had put some substance or
other, of a most nauseous smell, into the hat of a little boy, who
attended at the altar, and he, without observing the trick, put it upon
his head. In the midst of the ceremonies he approached some of the
nuns, who were almost suffocated with the odour; and as he occasionally
moved from place to place some of them began to beckon to him to stand
further off, and to hold their noses, with looks of disgust. The boy
was quite unconscious of the cause of the difficulty, and paid them no
attention; but the confusion soon became so great, through the distress
of some, and the laughing of others, that the Superior noticed the
circumstance, and beckoned to the boy to withdraw. All attempts,
however, to engage us in any work, prayer, or meditation, were found
ineffectual. Whenever the circumstances in the chapel came to mind, we
would laugh out. We had got into such a state, that we could not easily
restrain ourselves. The Superior, yielding to necessity, allowed us
recreation for the whole day.
The Superior used sometimes to send Jane to instruct the novices in
their English prayers. She would proceed to her task with all
seriousness; but sometimes chose the most ridiculous, as well as
irreverent passages, from songs, and other things, which she had before
somewhere learnt, which would set us, who understood her, laughing. One
of her rhymes, I recollect, began with:
"The Lord of love, look from above,
Upon this turkey hen."
Jane for a time slept opposite me, and often in the night would rise,
unobserved, and slip into my bed, to talk with me, which she did in a
low whisper, and return again with equal caution.
She would tell me of the tricks she had played, and such as she
meditated, and sometimes make me laugh so loud, that I had much to do
in the morning with begging pardons, and doing penances.
One winter's day, she was sent to light a fire; but after she had done
so, remarked privately to some of us: "My fingers were too cold--you'll
see if I do it again." The next day, there was a great stir in the
house, because it was said that mad Jane Ray had been seized with a fit
while making a fire, and she was taken up apparently insensible, and
conveyed to her bed. She complained to me, who visited her in the
course of the day, that she was likely to starve, as food was denied
her; and I was persuaded to pin a stocking under my dress, and secretly
put food into it from the table. This I afterward carried to her and
relieved her wants.
One of the things which I blamed Jane most for, was a disposition to
quarrel with any nun who seemed to be winning the favour of the
Superior. She would never rest until she had brought such a one into
some difficulty.
We were allowed but little soap; and Jane, when she found her supply
nearly gone, would take the first piece she could find. One day there
was a general search made for a large piece that was missed; when, soon
after I had been searched, Jane Ray passed me and slipped it into my
pocket; she was soon after searched herself and then secretly came for
it again.
While I recall these particulars of our nunnery, and refer so often to
the conduct and language of one of the nuns, I cannot speak of some
things which I believed or suspected, on account of my want of
sufficient knowledge. But it is a pity you have not Jane Ray for a
witness; she knows many things of which I am ignorant. She must be in
possession of facts that should be known. Her long residence in the
Convent, her habits of roaming about it, and of observing every thing,
must have made her acquainted with things which would be heard with
interest. I always felt as if she knew everything. She would often go
and listen, or look through the cracks into the Superior's room, while
any of the priests were closeted with her, and sometimes would come and
tell me what she witnessed. I felt myself bound to confess in such
cases, and always did so.
She knew, however, that I only told it to the priest or to the
Superior, and without mentioning the name of my informant, which I was
at liberty to withhold, so that she was not found out. I often said to
her, "Don't tell me, Jane, for I must confess it." She would reply:
"It is better for you to confess it than for me." I thus became, even
against my will, informed of scenes, supposed by the actors of them to
be secret.
Jane Ray once persuaded me to accompany her into the Superior's room,
to hide with her under the sofa, and await the appearance of a visitor
whom she expected, that we might overhear what passed between them. We
had been long concealed, when the Superior came in alone and sat for
some time, when fearing she might detect us in the stillness which
prevailed, we began to repent of our temerity. At length however, she
suddenly withdrew, and thus afforded us a welcome opportunity to escape.
I was passing one day through a part of the cellar, where I had not
often occasion to go, when the toe of my shoe hit something. I tripped
and fell down. I rose again, and holding my lamp to see what had caused
my fall, I found an iron ring, fastened to a small square trapdoor.
This I had the curiosity to raise, and saw four or five steps leading
down, but there was not light enough to see more, and I feared to be
noticed by somebody and reported to the Superior; so closing the door
again, I left the spot. At first, I could not imagine the use for such
a passage; but it afterward occurred to me, that this might open to the
subterranean passage to the Seminary, for I never before could account
for the appearance of many of the priests, who often appeared and
disappeared among us, particularly at night, when I knew the gates were
closed. They could, as I now saw, come up to the door of the Superior's
room at any hour, then up the stairs into our sleeping-room, or where
they chose. And often they were in our beds before us.
I afterward ascertained that my conjectures were correct, and that a
secret communication was kept up, in this manner, between the two
institutions, at the end towards Notre Dame-street, at a considerable
depth under ground. I often afterward, met priests in the cellar, when
sent there for coal and other articles, as they had to pass up and down
the common cellar stairs on their way.
My wearisome daily prayers and labours, my pain of body, and depression
of mind which were so much increased by penances I had suffered, and
those which I constantly feared, and the feelings of shame, remorse,
and horror, which sometimes arose, brought me into a state which I
cannot describe.
In the first place, my frame was enfeebled by the uneasy postures I was
required to keep for so long a time during prayers. This alone I
thought was sufficient to undermine my health and destroy my life. An
hour and a half every morning I had to sit on the floor of the
community-room, with my feet under me, my body bent forward, and my
head hanging on one side--in a posture expressive of great humility, it
is true, but very fatiguing to keep for such an unreasonable length of
time. Often I found it impossible to avoid falling asleep in this
posture, which I could do without detection, by bending a little lower
than usually. The signal to rise, or the noise made by the rising of
the other nuns, then woke me, and I got up with the rest unobserved.
Before we took the posture just described, we had to kneel for a long
time without bending the body, keeping quite erect, with the exception
of the knees only, with the hands together before the breast. This I
found the most distressing attitude for me, and never assumed it
without feeling a sharp pain in my chest, which I often thought would
soon lead me to my grave--that is, to the great common receptacle for
the dead, under the chapel. And this upright kneeling posture we were
obliged to resume as soon as we rose from the half-sitting posture
first mentioned; so that I usually felt myself exhausted and near to
fainting before the conclusion of morning services.
I found the meditations extremely tedious, and often did I sink into
sleep while we were all seated in silence on the floor. When required
to tell my meditations, as it was thought to be of no great importance
what we said, I sometimes found I had nothing to tell but a dream, and
told that, which passed off very well.
Jane Ray appeared to be troubled still more than myself with wandering
thoughts; and when blamed for them, would reply, "I begin very well;
but directly I begin to think of some old friend of mine, and my
thoughts go a-wandering from one country to another."
Sometimes I confessed my falling asleep; and often the priests have
talked to me about the sin of sleeping in time of meditation. At last,
one of them proposed to me to prick myself with a pin, which I have
often done, and so roused myself for a time.
My close confinement in the Convent, and the want of opportunities to
breathe the open air, might have proved more injurious to me than they
did, had I not employed a part of my time in more active labours than
those of sewing, &c., to which I was chiefly confined. I took part
occasionally in some of the heavy work, as washing, &c.
The events which I am now to relate, occurred about five months after
my admission into the Convent as a nun; but I cannot fix the time with
precision, as I know not of any thing which took place in the world
about the same period. The circumstance I clearly remember; but, as I
have elsewhere remarked, we were not accustomed to keep any account of
time.
Information was given to us one day, that another novice was to be
admitted among us; and we were required to remember and mention her
often in our prayers, that she might have faithfulness in the service
of her holy spouse. No information was given us concerning her beyond
this fact: not a word about her age, name, or nation. On all similar
occasions the same course was pursued, and all that the nuns ever
learnt concerning one another was what they might discover by being
together, and which usually amounted to little or nothing.
When the day of her admission arrived, though I did not witness the
ceremony in the chapel, it was a gratification to us all on one
account, because we were all released from labour, and enjoyed a great
recreation-day.
Our new sister, when she was introduced to the "holy" society of us
"saints," proved to be young, of about the middle size, and very
good-looking for a Canadian; for I soon ascertained that she was one of
my own countrywomen. The Canadian females are generally not handsome. I
never learnt her name, nor any thing of her history. She had chosen
Saint Martin for her nun name. She was admitted in the morning, and
appeared melancholy all day. This I observed was always the case; and
the remarks made by others, led me to believe that they, and all they
had seen, had felt sad and miserable for a longer or shorter time. Even
the Superior, as it may be recollected, confessed to me that she had
experienced the same feelings when she was received. When bedtime
arrived, she proceeded to the chamber with the rest of us, and was
assigned a bed on the side of the room opposite my own, and a little
beyond. The nuns were all soon in bed, the usual silence ensued, and I
was making my customary mental prayer and composing myself to sleep,
when I heard the most piercing and heart-rending shrieks proceed from
our new comrade. Every nun seemed to rise as if by one impulse, for no
one could hear such sounds, especially in such total silence, without
being greatly excited. A general noise succeeded, for many voices spoke
together, uttering cries of surprise, compassion, or fear. It was in
vain for the night-watch to expect silence: for once we forgot rules
and penances, and gave vent to our feelings, and she could do nothing
but call for the Superior. Strange as it may seem, mad Jane Ray, who
found an opportunity to make herself heard for an instant, uttered an
exclamation in English, which so far from expressing any sympathy for
the sufferer, seemed to betray feelings hardened to the last degree
against conscience and shame. This caused a laugh among some of those
who understood her, and had become hardened to their own trials, and of
course in a great measure to those of others.
I heard a man's voice mingled with the cries and shrieks of the nun.
Father Quiblier, of the Seminary, I had felt confident, was in the
Superior's room at the time when we retired; and several of the nuns
afterward assured me that it was he. The Superior soon made her
appearance, and in a harsh manner commanded silence. I heard her
threaten gagging her, and then say, "You are no better than anybody
else, and if you do not obey, you shall be sent to the cells."
One young girl was taken into the Convent during my abode there, under
peculiar circumstances. I was acquainted with the whole affair, as I
was employed to act a part in it.
Among the novices, was a young lady of about seventeen, the daughter of
an old rich Canadian. She had been remarkable for nothing that I know
of except the liveliness of her disposition. The Superior once
expressed to us a wish to have her take the veil, though the girl
herself had never had any such intention, that I knew of. Why the
Superior wished to receive her, I could only conjecture. One reason
might have been, that she expected to receive a considerable sum from
her father. She was, however, strongly desirous of having the girl in
our community, and one day said: "Let us take her in by a trick, and
tell the old man she felt too humble to take the veil in public."
Our plans then being laid, the unsuspecting girl was induced by us, in
sport, as we told her, and made her believe, to put on such a splendid
robe as I had worn on my admission, and to pass through some of the
ceremonies of taking the veil. After this, she was seriously informed,
that she was considered as having entered the Convent in earnest, and
must henceforth bury herself to the world, as she would never be
allowed to leave it. We put on her a nun's dress, though she wept, and
refused, and expressed the greatest repugnance. The Superior
threatened, and promised, and flattered, by turns, until the poor girl
had to submit; but her appearance long showed that she was a nun only
by compulsion.
In obedience to the directions of the Superior, we exerted ourselves to
make her contented, especially when she was first received, when we got
round her, and told her we had felt so for a time, but having since
become acquainted with the happiness of a nun's life, were perfectly
content and would never be willing to leave the Convent. An exception
seemed to be made in her favor, in one respect: for I believe no
criminal attempt was made upon her, until she had been some time an
inmate of the nunnery.
Soon after her reception, or rather her forcible entry into the
Convent, her father called to make inquiry about his daughter. The
Superior first spoke with him herself, and then called us to repeat her
plausible story, which I did with accuracy. If I had wished to say any
thing else, I never should have dared.
We told the foolish old man, that his daughter, whom we all loved, had
long desired to become a Nun, but had been too humble to wish to appear
before spectators, and had, at her own desire, been favored with a
private admission into the community.
The benefit conferred upon himself and his family, by this act of
self-consecration I reminded him, must be truly great and valuable; as
every family which furnishes a priest, or a nun, is justly looked upon
as receiving the peculiar favor of heaven on that account. The old
Canadian firmly believed every word I was forced to tell him, took the
event as a great blessing, and expressed the greatest readiness to pay
more than the customary fee to the Convent. After the interview, he
withdrew, promising soon to return and pay a handsome sum to the
convent, which he performed with all despatch, and the greatest
cheerfulness. The poor girl never heard that her father had taken the
trouble to call to see her, much less did she know any thing of the
imposition passed upon him. She remained in the Convent when I left it.
The youngest girl who ever took the veil of our sisterhood, was only
fourteen years of age, and considered very pious. She lived but a short
time. I was told that she was ill-treated by the priests, and believe
her death was in consequence.