Influencing Novices--Difficulty of convincing persons from the United
States--Tale of the Bishop in the City--The Bishop in the Convent--The
Prisoners in the Cells--Practice in Singing--Narratives, Jane Ray's
Hymns, The Superior's best Trick.
It was considered a great duty to exert ourselves to influence novices
in favor of the Roman Catholic religion; and different nuns, were, at
different times, charged to do what they could, by conversation, to
make favourable impressions on the minds of some, who were particularly
indicated to us by the Superior. I often heard it remarked, that those
who were influenced with the greatest difficulty, were young ladies
from the United States; and on some of those, great exertions were made.
Cases in which citizens of the States were said to have been converted
to the Roman Catholic faith, were sometimes spoken of, and always as if
they were considered highly important.
The Bishop, as we were told, was on the public square, on the day of an
execution, when, as he said, a stranger looked at him in some peculiar
manner, which made him confidently believe God intended to have him
converted by his means. When he went home, he wrote a letter for him,
and the next day found him again in the same place, and gave him the
letter, which led to his becoming a Roman Catholic. This man, it was
added, proved to be a citizen of the States.
The Bishop, as I have remarked, was not very dignified on all
occasions, and sometimes acted in such a manner as would not have
appeared well in public.
One day I saw him preparing for mass; and because he had difficulty in
getting on his robe, showed evident signs of anger. One of the nuns
remarked: "The Bishop is going to perform a passionate mass." Some of
the others exclaimed: "Are you not ashamed to speak so of my lord!" And
she was rewarded with a penance.
But it might be hoped that the Bishop would be free from the crimes of
which I have declared so many priests to have been guilty. I am far
from entertaining such charitable opinions of him; and I had good
reasons, after a time.
I was often required to sleep on a sofa, in the room of the present
Superior, as I may have already mentioned.
One night, not long after I was first introduced there, for that
purpose, and within the first twelve months of my wearing the veil,
having retired as usual, at about half-past nine, not long after we had
got into bed, the alarm-bell from without, which hangs over the
Superior's bed, was rung. She told me to see who was there; and going
down, I heard the signal given, which I have before mentioned, a
peculiar kind of hissing sound made through the teeth. I answered with
a low, "Hum-hum;" and then opened the door. It was Bishop Lartigue, the
present Bishop of Montreal. He said to me, "Are you a Novice or a
Received?" meaning a Received nun. I answered a "Received."
He then requested me to conduct him to the Superior's room, which I
did. He went to the bed, drew the curtains behind him, and I lay down
again upon the sofa, until morning, when the Superior called me, at an
early hour, about daylight, and directed me to show him the door, to
which I conducted him, and he took his departure.
I continued to visit the cellar frequently, to carry up coal for the
fires, without anything more than a general impression that there were
two nuns, somewhere imprisoned in it. One day while there on my usual
errand, I saw a nun standing on the right of the cellar, in front of
one of the cell doors I had before observed; she was apparently engaged
with something within. This attracted my attention. The door appeared
to close in a small recess, and was fastened with a stout iron bolt on
the outside, the end of which was secured by being let into a hole in
the stone-work which formed the posts. The door, which was of wood, was
sank a few inches beyond the stone-work, rose and formed an arch
overhead. Above the bolt was a window supplied with a fine grating,
which swung open, a small bolt having been removed from it, on the
outside. The nun I had observed seemed to be whispering with some
person within, through the little window: but I hastened to get my
coal, and left the cellar, presuming that was the prison. When I
visited the place again, being alone, I ventured to the spot,
determined to learn the truth, presuming that the imprisoned nuns, of
whom the Superior had told me on my admission, were confined there. I
spoke at the window where I had seen the nun standing, and heard a
voice reply in a whisper. The aperture was so small, and the place so
dark, that I could see nobody; but I learnt that a poor wretch was
confined there a prisoner. I feared that I might be discovered, and
after a few words, which I thought could do no harm, I withdrew.
My curiosity was now alive, to learn every thing I could about so
mysterious a subject. I made a few inquiries of Saint Xavier, who only
informed me that they were punished for refusing to obey the Superior,
Bishop, and Priests. I afterward found that the other nuns were
acquainted with the fact I had just discovered. All I could learn,
however, was, that the prisoner in the cell whom I had spoken with, and
another in the cell just beyond, had been confined there several years
without having been taken out; but their names, connexions, offences,
and everything else relating to them, I could never learn, and am still
as ignorant of as ever. Some conjectured that they had refused to
comply with some of the rules of the Convent or requisitions of the
Superior; others, that they were heiresses whose property was desired
for the convent, and who would not consent to sign deeds of it. Some of
the nuns informed me, that the severest of their sufferings arose from
fear of supernatural beings.
I often spoke with one of them in passing near their cells, when on
errands in the cellar, but never ventured to stop long, or to press my
inquiries very far. Besides, I found her reserved, and little disposed
to converse freely, a thing I could not wonder at when I considered her
situation, and the characters of persons around her. She spoke like a
woman in feeble health, and of broken spirits. I occasionally saw other
nuns speaking to them, particularly at mealtimes, when they were
regularly furnished with food, which was such as we ourselves ate.
Their cells were occasionally cleaned and then the doors were opened. I
never looked into them, but was informed that the ground was their only
floor. I presumed that they were furnished with straw to lie upon, as I
always saw a quantity of old straw scattered about that part of the
cellar, after the cells had been cleansed. I once inquired of one of
them, whether they could converse together, and she replied that they
could, through a small opening between their cells, which I could not
see.
I once inquired of the one I spoke with in passing, whether she wanted
anything, and she replied, "Tell Jane Ray I want to see her a moment if
she can slip away." When I went up I took an opportunity to deliver my
message to Jane, who concerted with me a signal to be used in future,
in case a similar request should be made through me. This was a sly
wink at her with one eye, accompanied with a slight toss of my head.
She then sought an opportunity to visit the cellar, and was soon able
to hold an interview with the poor prisoners, without being noticed by
any one but myself. I afterward learnt that mad Jane Ray was not so
mad, but she could feel for those miserable beings, and carry through
measures for their comfort. She would often visit them with
sympathizing words, and, when necessary, conceal part of her food while
at table, and secretly convey it into their dungeons. Sometimes we
would combine for such an object; and I have repeatedly aided her in
thus obtaining a larger supply of food than they had been able to
obtain from others.
I frequently thought of the two nuns confined in the cells, and
occasionally heard something said about them, but very little. Whenever
I visited the cellar and thought it safe, I went up to the first of
them and spoke a word or two, and usually got some brief reply, without
ascertaining that any particular change took place with either of them.
The one with whom I ever conversed, spoke English perfectly well, and
French I thought as well. I supposed she must have been well educated,
for I could not tell which was her native language. I remember that she
frequently used these words when I wished to say more to her, and which
alone showed that she was constantly afraid of punishment: "Oh, there's
somebody coming--do go away!" I have been told that the other prisoner
also spoke English.
It was impossible for me to form any certain opinion about the size or
appearance of those two miserable creatures, for their cells were
perfectly dark, and I never caught the slightest glimpse even of their
faces. It is probable they were women not above the middle size, and my
reason for this presumption is the following: I was sometimes appointed
to lay out the clean clothes for all the nuns in the Convent on
Saturday evening, and was always directed to lay by two suits for the
prisoners. Particular orders were given to select the largest sized
garments for several tall nuns; but nothing of the kind was ever said
in relation to the clothes for those in the cells.
I had not been long a veiled nun, before I requested of the Superior
permission to confess to the "Saint Bon Pasteur," (Holy Good Shepherd,)
that is, the mysterious and nameless nun whom I had heard of while a
novice. I knew of several others who had confessed to her at different
times, and of some who had sent their clothes to be touched by her when
they were sick; and I felt a desire to unburden my heart of certain
things, which I was loath to acknowledge to the Superior, or any of the
priests.
The Superior made me wait a little, until she could ascertain whether
the "Saint Bon Pasteur" was ready to admit me; and after a time
returned, and told me to enter the old nuns' room. That apartment has
twelve beds, arranged like the berths of a ship by threes; and as each
is broad enough to receive two persons, twenty-four may be lodged
there, which was about the number of old nuns in the Convent during the
most of my stay in it. Near an opposite corner of the apartment was a
large glass case, with no appearance of a door, or other opening, in
any part of it: and in that case stood the venerable nun, in the dress
of the community, with her thick veil spread over her face, so as to
conceal it entirely. She was standing, for the place did not allow room
for sitting, and moved a little, which was the only sign of life, as
she did not speak. I fell upon my knees before her, and began to
confess some of my imperfections, which lay heavy upon my mind,
imploring her aid and intercession, that I might be delivered from
them. She appeared to listen to me with patience, but still never
returned a word in reply. I became much affected as I went on, and at
length began to weep bitterly; and when I withdrew, was in tears. It
seemed to me that my heart was remarkably relieved after this exercise,
and all the requests I had made, I found, as I believed, strictly
fulfilled. I often, afterward, visited the old nuns' room for the same
purpose, and with similar results, so that my belief in the sanctity of
the nameless nun, and my regard for her intercession were unbounded.
What is remarkable, though I repeatedly was sent into that A room to
dust it, or to put it in order, I remarked that the glass case was
vacant, and no signs were to be found either of the nun or of the way
by which she had left it; so that a solemn conclusion rested upon my
mind, that she had gone on one of her frequent visits to heaven.
A priest would sometimes come in the daytime to teach us to sing, and
this was done with some parade or stir, as if it were considered, or
meant to be considered as a thing of importance.
The instructions, however, were entirely repetitions of the words and
tunes, nothing being taught even of the first principles of the
science. It appeared to me, that although hymns alone were sung, the
exercise was chiefly designed for our amusement, to raise our spirits a
little, which were apt to become depressed. Mad Jane Ray certainly
usually treated the whole thing as a matter of sport, and often excited
those of us who understood English to a great degree of mirth. She had
a very fine voice, which was so powerful as generally to be heard above
the rest. Sometimes she would be silent when the other nuns began; I
and the Superior would often call out, "Jane Ray, you don't sing." She
always had some trifling excuse ready, and commonly appeared unwilling
to join the rest. After being urged or commanded by the Superior, she
would then strike up some English song, or profane parody, which was
rendered ten times more ridiculous by the ignorance of the Lady
Superior and the majority of the nuns. I cannot help laughing now when
I remember how she used to stand with perfect composure and sing,
"I wish I was married and nothing to rue,
With plenty of money and nothing to do."
"Jane Ray, you don't sing right," the Superior would exclaim. "Oh," she
would reply, with perfect coolness, "that is the English for,
'Seigneur Dieu de clemence,
Reçois ce grand pécheur;'"
and, as sung by her, a person ignorant of the language would naturally
be imposed upon. It was extremely difficult for me to conceal my
laughter. I have always had greater exertion to make in repressing it
than most other persons; and mad Jane Ray often took advantage of this.
Saturday evening usually brought with it much unpleasant work for some
of us. We received the Sacrament every Sunday; and in preparation for
it, on Saturday evening we asked pardon of the Superior and of each
other "for the scandal we had caused since we last received the
Sacrament," and then asked the Superior's permission to receive it on
the following day. She inquired of each nun who necessarily asked her
permission, whether she, naming her as Saint somebody, had concealed
any sin that should hinder her from receiving it; and if the answer was
in the negative, she granted her permission.
On Saturdays we were catechised by a priest, being assembled in a
community-room. He sat on the right of the door in a chair. He often
told us stories, and frequently enlarged on the duty enticing novices
into the nunnery. "Do you not feel" he would say, "now that you are
safely out of the world, sure of heaven? But remember how many poor
people are yet in the world. Every novice you influence to the black
veil, will add to your honour in heaven. Tell them how happy you are."
The Superior played one trick while I was in the Convent, which always
passed for one of the most admirable she ever carried into execution.
We were pretty good judges in a case of this kind, for, as may be
presumed, we were rendered familiar with the arts of deception under so
accomplished a teacher.
There was an ornament on hand in the nunnery, of an extraordinary kind,
which was prized at ten pounds; but it had been made and exposed to
view so long, that it became damaged and quite unsaleable. We were one
day visited by an old priest from the country, who was evidently
somewhat intoxicated; and as he withdrew to go to his lodgings, in the
Seminary, where the country priests often stay, the Superior conceived
a plan for disposing of the old ornament. "Come," said she, "we will
send it to the old priest, and swear he has bought it!"
We all approved of the ingenious device, for it evidently might be
classed among the pious frauds we had so often had recommended to us
both by precept and example; and the ornament was sent to him the next
morning, as his property when paid for. He soon came to the Convent,
and expressed the greatest surprise that he had been charged with
purchasing such a thing, for which he had no need and no desire.
The Superior heard this declaration with patience, but politely
insisted that it was a fair bargain; and we then surrounded the old
priest, with the strongest assertions that such was the fact, and that
nobody would ever have thought of his purchasing it unless he had
expressly engaged to take it. The poor old man was entirely put down.
He was certain of the truth: but what could he do: resist or disprove a
direct falsehood pronounced by the Superior of a Convent, and sworn to
by all her holy nuns? He finally expressed his conviction that we were
right: he was compelled to pay his money.