Chapter XXII: Female Inquisitions in Rome

Policy of the Inquisition in the Romish Church--In Nunneries--They
are Prisons--Testimony of Rev. B. White--Case of Abduction at
Turin--Testimony of Rev. M. H. Seymour--Society in Rome--Italian
estimate of Woman--Reasons for Nunneries--Their walls and iron
gratings--Their secrecy--Testimony of an Officer--Religious
temptations--Impurity in Nunneries--Instances of
wickedness--Suicide of an Abbess--Popery as regarded by the Romans.

Romish policy in the Inquisition, as we have seen, is not limited to the Holy Office. Its influence and its morals are felt throughout the whole circle of society in popish countries; and its operations extend to all classes, even to the educational and public institutions. It is seen in the religious houses. We have, in Chapter XIX., some affecting examples and illustrations of the enormities and immoral practices of the _celibate_ priests, among all ranks. And such evils are known to have been common in convents and nunneries. These have been considered as so many “Female Inquisitions.” Many of them are, in a proper sense of the term, _prisons_, whose unhappy inmates are altogether in the power of the priests. They are governed and regulated by rules framed or sanctioned by the “Holy Office;” and in what manner soever the recluses are treated, they have no means of redress, being entirely removed from the jurisdiction of the civil magistrate, _secluded in secret apartments, to which priests only have access_.

What is the general character of both priests and nuns, in Roman Catholic countries, is testified by many; and the testimony of the Rev. Blanco White, formerly chaplain to the king of Spain,--as he had the best means of information,--will be satisfactory regarding his own country. He says,--“Men of the first eminence in the church were the old friends of my family--my parents’ and my own spiritual directors. Thus I grew up, thus I continued in manhood, till at the age of five-and-thirty, religious oppression, and that alone, forced me away from kindred and country. The intimacy of friendship and undisguised converse of sacramental confessions opened to me the hearts of many whose exterior conduct might have deceived a common observer. The coarse frankness of associated dissoluteness left, indeed, no secrets among the spiritual slaves, who, unable to separate the laws of God from those of their tyrannical church, trampled both under foot in riotous despair. Such are the sources of the knowledge I possess: God, sorrow, and remorse, are my witnesses.

“What need I say of the vulgar crowd of priests, who, coming, as the Spanish phrase has it, from _coarse swaddling clothes_, and raised by ordination to a rank of life for which they have not been prepared, mingle vice and superstition, grossness of feeling and pride of office, in their character? I have known the best among them; I have heard the confessions of young persons of both sexes, who fell under the influence of their suggestion and example; and I do declare that _nothing can be more dangerous to youthful virtue than their company_. How many souls would be saved from crime but for the vain display of superior virtue which Rome demands from her clergy!

“The picture of _female convents_ requires a more delicate pencil, yet _I cannot find tints sufficiently dark and gloomy_ to portray the miseries which I have witnessed in their inmates. Crime, indeed, makes its way into those recesses, in spite of the spiked walls and prison gates which protect the inhabitants. _This I know_, with all the certainty which the self-accusation of the guilty can give. It is, besides, a notorious fact, that _the nunneries in Estremadura and Portugal are frequently infected with vice of the grossest kind_. But I will not dwell on this revolting part of the picture!”

“Auricular confession,” with its authorised rules and _questions_, seems, above everything in human intercourse, adapted to corrupt the heart of the priest, and prepare him for the most vicious practices. And the dangers to unprotected nuns cannot but be inexpressible. How can a virtuous mind contemplate this practice, in the nature of things, without revolting from it with indignation? The MIND surrendered to the keeping of a fellow-being, who probes every feeling and knows every thought!--the MIND forced into a mould, as of iron, and there held by an unholy priest!--_maidens_ unbosoming themselves in secret to unmarried men,--to men who are trained up from childhood for the priesthood, as the sure means of a respectable livelihood! _Married women_ exhibiting the inmost recesses of their hearts to strange men! Is there not iniquity unspeakable in this practice? It seems necessary, therefore, to complete the present work, to offer some exhibition of the state of those prisons of females, kept under the government of priests,--and especially as they exist in the metropolis of the Roman pontiff. This appears essential to the “INQUISITION REVEALED.”

Popish policy regarding convents, and the fact of their being secret prisons, similar to those of the Inquisition, will appear more fully from an atrocious case of priestly intrigue, in violation of the law of God, the particulars of which are given in _The Times_ newspaper of Friday, November 15, 1844:--

“A popular French writer has recently asserted, in a work of fiction, in which he virulently, though not always unjustly, assails the policy of the Romish clergy, that the pretensions of the more unscrupulous agents of that church openly defy all the most sacred relations of mankind; that they dare to set at nought even the ties of filial duty; and that no artifices are too base for them to resort to, in furtherance of their ends. But we have met with nothing in the pages of fiction which illustrates these serious and almost incredible charges more forcibly, than an occurrence which has actually taken place in the course of the present year, in one of the capitals of the south of Europe. We feel impelled to give to these painful events, and most sinister machinations, a greater publicity than they have hitherto received; not only because it is well that the actors in such transactions should learn, that they cannot escape the animadversions of Europe, but because the case we are about to relate affords a warning not to be overlooked by our Protestant fellow-countrymen, whose families may chance to fall within the reach of the same dangerous influences.

“The post of Dutch minister at the court of Turin had been reputably filled, for some years, by a Protestant gentleman of the name of Heldivier, who resided with his family in that city, until, in consequence of some new diplomatic arrangements on the part of the Dutch government, he received, in May last, his letters of recall. Some domestic anxiety had been occasioned to this family by one of the daughters, a young lady of ardent and independent temperament, who was supposed to have formed an attachment to a young lawyer of the town, whose character and position did not make him a suitable match for her. Their departure was, therefore, hastened; but after M. Heldivier had presented his letters to the king of Sardinia, he was accidentally detained, by the illness of another of his children, for a few days, in an hotel at Turin. On the 8th of June, a display of fireworks took place, in honour of the birth of an heir to the duke of Savoy. The ex-minister and his wife were induced to attend this fête, and very reluctantly to leave their daughter, who excused herself on some pretext, at home. They were absent but a short time; yet, in the interval, the vague apprehensions they seem to have entertained were fatally verified. Their daughter had disappeared--and for ever. At that hour of the night she had quitted the hotel, alone, and without even a change of dress. The police were immediately sent in search of the fugitive. The young advocate, who was at first suspected to have had a hand in the elopement, was examined, but he proved himself to be totally ignorant of the occurrence; not a vestige of her was to be found within the jurisdiction of the authorities of the city; but this absence of all evidence raised a strong presumption that she would be found in the precincts of some convent, more inaccessible than a prison or a tomb.

“Application was made to the archbishop of Turin, as the supreme ecclesiastical power of the kingdom, for leave to pursue these inquiries, or for information, if he possessed it, on the subject; for, meanwhile, the anxiety and anguish of this unfortunate family had been raised to a pitch which we shall not attempt to describe; and even the public, startled by the actual disappearance of a young lady, _still a minor_, the daughter of a gentleman who came amongst them as the representative of a foreign sovereign, took the liveliest interest in their extreme distress.

“The archbishop thought fit to reply to this application, that he had reason to believe that Mademoiselle Heldivier had indeed sought refuge in a convent, but that he was unable to state where she was at present. A few days more, however, brought the whole transaction to light. When the archbishop of Turin asserted that he was unable to state where the young lady was, _he might have stated, and he did afterwards acknowledge_, that _no person living had had so great a hand in the affair as himself. For two years he had been carrying on a system of secret communication with Mademoiselle Heldivier!_ Thwarted by her parents in her attachment for the young advocate, she had sought to avenge herself upon them by transferring her confidence from her father to this priest--from her natural protectors, to the jealous arms of the church of Rome. The archbishop, _unwilling to commit himself by a written order, had furnished his convert with one-half of a sheet of paper, cut in a particular manner_; the other half was given to the abbess of the convent of Santa Croce, in Turin, with orders to receive the bearer of the corresponding fragment at any hour of the day or night. Provided with these credentials, the fugitive found shelter in the convent walls; but, _by the advice of the archbishop_, her flight was deferred until her father, by the delivery of his letters of recall, had, as these clerical conspirators contend, surrendered those diplomatic rights and privileges which would have been fatal to their scheme.

“The fact being thus ascertained, a strong effort was made to bring the authors of this plot to account for their action, and to yield up the young person whom they had gotten into their possession. Setting aside the odious secret arts by which this alleged conversion had been effected, and the irreparable injury done to an honourable family, the case was one which demanded the strongest remonstrances, as an unparalleled invasion of the law of nations, and of the rights of diplomatic persons. A Dutch subject--a minor--the child of a Dutch minister--is encouraged to quit her father’s abode, received into a convent, and there detained, not only by moral but by actual force, since every attempt even to search these convents was successfully resisted by the clergy. His Majesty granted him an audience; but, in answer to the prayers and demands of M. Heldivier, that his daughter might be restored to him, the only reply which the absolute monarch dared to make was, that _whatever might be his own opinion on the subject, if he presumed to interfere with the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the convents, he should be excommunicated_! Such an answer, on such an occasion, might have been expected from a Philip II. of Spain; and such powers as are thus recognised and established fall little short of those of the Inquisition! The principle contended for, on behalf of the church of Rome, is this--that _any child, having completed the age of twelve years, may, for any cause, motive, or pretext, throw off the parental authority, and fling itself under the protection of the church_. If the child be a Protestant, so much the better, since, while it abjures its filial duties, it abandons its religious faith; but, whether Catholic or Protestant, the protection of the church, thus sought and thus given, is absolute and inviolable!

“There are few countries now, in Europe or the world, where such a doctrine as this would not be demolished by the ordinary notions of civil rights and justice. But the dominions of the king of Sardinia are not one of those countries. In vain did Mr. Abercromby, our own intelligent minister at the court of Turin, and Baron Mortier, the representative of France, represent that M. Heldivier, as a diplomatic person, had an incontestable right to quit the country in peace, taking with him all his family. The inexorable grasp of the infallible church prevailed. The king of Holland appears to have taken this outrage upon the family of his minister with a most unbecoming indifference and pusillanimity; and Mademoiselle Heldivier remains in the convent of Santa Croce, where she has formally abjured the Protestant heresy, and will, probably, take the veil on the completion of her noviciate.

“We have no wish to draw any excessive or unjust inferences from this strange occurrence, which seems to belong, not only to another country, but to another age; but _it exhibits an awful picture of what the uncontrolled power of the Romish clergy may still dare to effect, and a humiliating example of a government, which has allowed the ties of private right and public law to be broken asunder_, because it is itself a victim to the worst form of bigotry, and the most servile subjection to spiritual oppression!”

Rome must be regarded as the fountain of the papal Catholicism. In that metropolis is concentrated the wisdom, the authority, and the perfection of that system, which has been established by the pretended “Vicar of Christ.” We are bound, therefore, to examine the institutions of him who is entitled “His Holiness,” and worshipped under the designation of “Most Holy Father!”

Nunneries abound in Rome; but they are, in reality, so many prisons, and most of them appear to be governed by the most intolerant rules, framed under the authority of the Inquisition, and administered in its spirit, as testified by the most respectable writers. Perhaps no one will be esteemed more worthy of credit than the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, M.A., a clergyman of the highest reputation in the church of England. In his “Pilgrimage to Rome,” written after his visit to that city, at the close of 1844, and in the early part of 1845, he testifies concerning the condition and character of society among the Romans, as shall be quoted from his instructive volume.

Regarding the city of Rome itself, he declares, “Although the hotels are admirable, the best of them being under the management of foreigners, every species of filth and every kind of odour greet the visitant on his entrance among the streets of this city of the church. For filth, for odours, for indecency, for all that is offensive to the eye, to the feelings, to the habits of a cleanly and orderly people, the city of Rome surpasses almost any city in the world!”--Pp. 139.

In testifying concerning the Roman convents, he says, “The subject of monasteries, as nunneries are called in Italy, is beset with considerable difficulties. The conclusion at which we have arrived, after all the information we could obtain, is this:--that however unmixed the evils of such a system may seem--however inexcusable and unredeemable in France or England, in Germany or Switzerland,--the establishment of monasteries in Italy bears a different complexion; not, indeed, from anything in the nature or conduct of such establishments themselves, but from the state of society in Italy.

“The social state of that beautiful land is as sad and melancholy, as its skies are bright and joyous. In the addresses of the preachers at the several receptions of novices and nuns, at which we were present, there was one pervading idea--one, too, not lightly put forth or incidentally alluded to, but running through the whole discourse, and forming the main substratum of everything else. I allude to the idea, that it was very difficult for a young female to preserve herself pure and holy from the sin and vice of the world, except within the walls of a monastery. These preachers had never witnessed the social system of England, or other lands; they had seen only that which pervaded Italy, and especially that of Rome. _They were unmarried men, who knew nothing of the purity, the modesty, the virtue, that belongs to a high-toned state of female society._ They had seen only the remains of the loose, wanton, and licentious spirit that breathed through every part of Italy during the last century; and every one who has the means of observation or information, seems to feel that the judgment of these men, though overstrained, as applied universally, is too correct in the main, as applied to the tone of society in Italy, and especially in Rome.

“I was much struck with this idea, when put forth so strongly, as expressing the conviction of those men; and it soon appeared to be a very general feeling among the laity as well as among the clergy. And I was surprised at finding that, even among the women, who had themselves borne the most respectable and irreproachable characters, there was a strong conviction, that however objectionable the life of the cloister, it yet was the safest life for a female. My wife had much communicated to her by ladies, who were mothers of families, and were conversant with the difficulties that surrounded them. And the general impression was, that the state of society was so ill-arranged--that the tone of feeling was so loose--that moral principle was so lightly valued--that regard for female purity was so little cherished--and the whole frame-work of the social system so loosened and disjointed, that there was neither a due respect for female character, nor sufficient protection for female purity. Living under governments essentially despotic--living under laws that are framed only to screen the authorities--living in lands where justice can be bought and sold, like any other marketable commodity--living among a people ever ripe for any and every revolution--living in this state, they live suspicious of each other; and being without commerce, without education, without employment, they too often make vice and intrigue, and at all events pleasure--the business, and education, and employment of life. In such a state of things among the men, women become regarded by them merely as a means to an end, merely as a means to minister to the pleasures of the hour; till too often she sinks into that state in which character is an incumbrance, and modesty is unknown.

“This is a dark picture, though a faithful one, of Italian society. It was drawn for us by Italian hands, in the freedom and frankness of private intercourse; and strongly illustrates the ground of their great predilection for monasteries. A young Italian lady, before her marriage, is not permitted to stir out of the sight of her mother; and no acquaintance with men, and no intimacy even with her own brothers, in the sense in which we regard acquaintance or intimacy, is permitted. The mothers seem to act as if they thought it was morally impossible their daughters should not fall, if only they had a moment’s opportunity; as if they thought their daughters were seeking the opportunity, and were restrained only by the strict superintendence of parental presence. This is a state of society unknown in England, and almost as unintelligible as unknown. And, strange to say, all the warm and affectionate intercourse of brothers and sisters, and all the frankness and confidence of respect and protection that characterises the intercourse of unmarried persons in society in England, are things utterly unknown and unintelligible in Italy.”--Pp. 168-171.

Nunneries, therefore, in the present state of society, in the opinion of Mr. Seymour, are necessary in Italy. He says of them, “There are two very cogent motives towards the maintenance of nunneries in Italy; one, as a means of safe and secure seclusion from the hideous forms of vice and immorality that characterises Italian society:--the other, as an easy and convenient means for settling and providing for the unmarried daughters of the land.

“The feeling, that the life of the cloister is the only safe and secure protection for an unmarried female, is warmly cherished and most deeply seated; and it is carefully fostered by the parents, in order to induce their daughters to remain in the cloister. It is no less carefully cherished and fostered by the priesthood, to conceal the _penetralia_ of conventual life; and so far is this carried, that if a novice, having taken the white veil, should, at the conclusion of her noviciate, refuse to take the black veil, she would be regarded as a reckless, wilful girl, who preferred a life of exposure to the worst temptations of the world, to a life of holiness and peace in a nunnery. Her parents and relations would refuse to receive her; or, if they did receive her, it would be as a fallen and unhappy one. And as, in England, a family would weep and mourn over one of their number who had fallen into sin, and shame, and sorrow, bringing ruin upon herself and disgrace upon her family; just so, in Italy, would a family regard the girl who had finished her noviciate, and refused to proceed further. She would be kept from contact with her other sisters; she would be removed out of sight, that no stranger should see her; her name would never be heard in conversation; and, even in her own family, it would never be breathed, save in those low and whispering tones in which we speak of those that have fallen. With such a prospect before her, as a matter of certainty, it ceases to be any cause for astonishment that the young novice should persevere, and lay aside the white veil, and assume the black, becoming a recluse for life.”--Pp. 173, 174.

Mr. Seymour’s representation of the condition of nuns is most affecting; but only in accordance with what is declared by others who are competent to form a correct opinion. He says, of the wretched victim of this system, “At the last day of her noviciate she is nominally free, and then, on assuming the black veil, _she becomes a prisoner for life_. If she escapes from the monastery, or attempts to fly, the law proclaims her an outcast, and all the ministers of justice _pursue her as a felon_, and _she is seized and punished as a criminal_, and confined, if possible, still more closely than before. I cannot say precisely what are the provisions of the law respecting such runaways, but the notion that it is a sin _deserving_ death is carefully propagated, and the belief generally prevails that imprisonment in a dungeon for life is the destined penalty within the walls of a convent. The terrors of the law are thus one great security against any attempt at escape from a nunnery. And, besides this, escape is next to impossible; for the monasteries are so constructed, that the inmates are as much prisoners within them, as criminals are prisoners in the public gaols. The windows are barred; the gates are chained; the walls are lofty. Exteriorly they always present this sad appearance, and interiorly it is necessary to pass through one, two, and sometimes three massive gates or doors, made as strong as wood and iron can make them, and locked and chained as securely as art can effect. It has always appeared to me, when examining these monasteries, that it was physically impossible for a young female to make an effectual attempt to escape. She cannot escape; and if she could, she would immediately be seized by the police, and remanded to some worse punishment in her prison.

“I have examined the exterior of many monasteries, and have been admitted into the interior of some, so as to be allowed to converse with the nuns at the grating: my wife has been admitted into the _intima penetralia_ of others. The impression left on her mind, as on my own, has been the same--that there is no possibility of escape; and that the nuns must remain, in general, not because their home is happy, but because they have no means of leaving it. It is often indeed said, and great care is taken to propagate the idea, that their home is happy--that their occupations are innocent--that their hearts are peaceful; while all within is a paradise of holiness and happiness, the very type and shadow of our home in the heavens. It is carefully reported, that this fulness of happiness, this repletion of peace, this secret and holy communion of sister with sister, and total separation from all the ties of a family, and all the cares of life, is the real magic that binds, as by a spell, the hearts of novices, and the minds of nuns; so that they would not exchange their nunneries for the noblest palace--their simple repast for the most joyous, festive scenes--their life of dull monotony for the most brilliant society; or the companionship of the sisters for the society of the most affectionate of husbands. All this is so often said, that in Italy it is as familiar as a household word; but all appeared otherwise to us. We felt, that if, indeed, they were so happy, there was no necessity for such lofty walls to keep them there; that if, indeed, all within was such a perfect paradise, there was no need of such pains to prevent their deserting it; that if all was a type of heaven, it seemed strange to have such bars of iron, and such gratings of iron, to compel these spirits of holiness to remain in the enjoyment of it. In England, these lofty walls and iron bars bespeak a prison, to confine the criminal and prevent his escape; and, certainly, in Italy they look as if designed for the same purpose. And it is nothing else than rank hypocrisy, to say that these lofty walls and iron bars are designed for any other purpose than the enforced constraint and imprisonment of the inmates of the monastery. To so cruel and tyrannical an extent is this imprisonment carried, that no nun is permitted to speak with any one, even through the grating, unless in the presence of a second nun as a spy, to prevent any plan of escape, or aught else concerted with the stranger, or any conversation passing to the prejudice of the monastic life, or to the unveiling of the secrets of the nunnery. It is all a part of the system to surround the inmates with every imaginable check and restraint, to preclude the hope and prevent the possibility of escape, and so secure the nuns as prisoners for life, and recluses for ever. At one nunnery, where we were conversing with two nuns at the grating, having visited them in company with the relations of one of them, I observed that the iron was double, the two gratings being some inches apart, so that even hand could not touch hand through them. I asked the reason of such double defence, begging to know whether, as all was such a paradise, it was designed to keep the ladies in, or to keep the gentlemen out. I was merrily answered on the instant, ‘O, Signor, one grating will keep the ladies within, and the other will keep the gentlemen without!’”--Pp. 177-180.

Mr. Seymour obtained information of the most appalling character, from persons who possessed intimate acquaintance with these “Female Inquisitions” at Rome. Their testimony, therefore, could not be invalidated. He states on this point,--“A gentleman, who holds an official station in the papal court, and who, from the nature of his office, has been obliged to accompany the cardinal-vicar in his visitation of some of the nunneries, communicated to us, in private, the impressions created on his own mind. He was a man of years and experience--was the father of a large family, was a very domestic, amiable and religious man, for a Romanist--and certainly was the most respectable character, as an Italian gentleman, it was our good fortune to meet in Italy. He and his wife communicated many things which we could not otherwise have learned, and frequently, by introductions, put us in the way of ascertaining matters in which they themselves could not prudently appear. He used to say, that when the novices became nuns at an early age, as eighteen or twenty, they seemed to be sufficiently happy for two or three years; at least, that for that time there seemed to be nothing remarkable; but that when they became old enough to see and understand well what were the consequences of the step they had taken, and that now there was no hope before them, they soon gave way to sorrow and despair. He spoke with deep feeling of the effect of this on the spirits and appearance of the young ladies. He stated that the broken-hearted look--the shades of indelible sorrow--the lines of settled and unalterable sadness--the expression of resentment or despair--that characterised many of these young creatures, used to affect his heart, sadden all his best feelings, and trouble his very dreams. He could not think or speak of the subject without such feelings that tears would come into his eyes; saying, that it was inconceivable the number of nuns that went to an early grave under this system. Those who awoke to the reality of their state, and thought of all the ties of home and affection, and their exchange of all freedom for the dull monotony and useless employments of the cloister, soon pined and saddened, and sinking into despair, died of madness; while some others, like gathered flowers, plucked from their native gardens, where they might long have bloomed and gladdened the scene, soon faded and withered and died. He always said that this was the melancholy destiny of the greater portion; and that nothing on earth could induce him, with the knowledge he possessed, to allow one of his daughters to take the veil; for that _the majority of nuns at Rome died of madness before they were five-and-twenty_ years of age!”--Pp. 181-183.

Surely no one can read this testimony concerning the condition of _nuns at Rome_, without the deepest emotion and horror. The system that requires it must be inhuman and execrable; and those who administer it, though titled dignitaries in a priesthood, must be fearfully guilty. It may be said that the ladies are carefully taught in their seclusion the duties of religion, and directed to its divine consolations. But Mr. Seymour further remarks on the morals and religion of the Roman nuns. Referring to the testimony of his friend in the “papal court,” he says, “Now all this, though very different from our notions on the subject, seems very natural. There are some monasteries where the inmates have many privileges and many comforts, and can enjoy the world in a measure. There are some, too, where the nuns occupy themselves in the education of the young, and this gives an object of interest to their hearts and to their minds. But all these are the higher order of nunneries. The great majority of the nunneries of Italy are very different. There are no occupations for mind or body--there is no object before the mind; so that, with thousands, the heart is left to prey upon itself. For the greater part of the day, the sisters are left to themselves, to brood over the remembrance of the past, or to talk to each other about nothing. There they live, with far less enjoyment for the present, and infinitely less hope for the future, than those ladies of an eastern harem, on whom we think with so much compassion. They have no objects in which they can take an interest; they have no persons on whom their affections may be placed; and they have no means of being practically useful to others.

“Such a state of existence is not conducive to the growth of a true and healthful religion in the soul. Accordingly it is found, that wherever there is religion in a nunnery, it runs into that wild and prurient thing that we rightly call ‘_monomania_,’ and results in the most extravagant claims to visions and revelations. It is the religion of madness; or perhaps, more correctly speaking, it is madness taking the direction of religion.

“Once, my wife and myself, in company with a married couple of Italians, were in consultation with two nuns related to our friends, one of whom was stating that no man except the Pope himself was ever permitted to enter that monastery. This she spoke of as a privilege of which they had some right to be proud. But while she was speaking, the confessor made his appearance! He was a good-natured, merry-looking man, of about thirty-five years of age. I have often been struck with the fact, that in almost every instance the confessors of these nunneries were younger men than myself, even when I was married. On his withdrawal, I asked the nun, of what use was the confessor? She replied that it was necessary for the nuns to confess their sins. I said, that I understood they had entered the nunnery to escape the sins of the world; and I asked, as all temptation to sin was thus supposed to be excluded, what kind of sins had they to confess. The question perplexed them not a little, and they could answer me only by laughing. I persevered, however, and at length they told me, that the nuns had so many quarrels and differences among themselves, that it led to much that required confession and absolution! I thanked them for the information, and only remarked that this showed that, after all, the lofty walls and iron bars of a nunnery were no protection against sin.

“It is a curious fact, that in all the lives of holy and sainted nuns that have been given to the world, the arch-tempter is always described as tempting them through the passions. He invariably is made to appear _in the form of a very handsome young man_! It is equally observable, that in the lives of holy monks and sainted friars, the arch-enemy is usually said to have appeared _in the form of a very lovely young female_! All this is very natural; and it shows, that even within the walls of both the monastery and the convent, the monks and the nuns are sometimes thinking of other subjects than those of heaven!”--Pp. 183-186.

Although the internal economy of nunneries is generally concealed with the utmost vigilance from the public, yet many things transpire at Rome, from time to time, that indicate the state of morals among their occupants, and to demonstrate the wickedness that is practised by them in secret. Mr. Seymour states some fearful facts. He remarks,--“Every one who knows anything of Italy, and especially of Rome, is aware that the most debauched and profligate characters in the land are among these inmates of the cloister. At present, the question concerns the moral character of the nunneries. So many things have of late years been stated--so many narratives of vice have been published--so many personal histories of victims to the system have been given--and so much has been said and written as to the dangers of the confessional, that I feel justified in saying a few words as to the moral state of the nunneries in Italy.

“I entertain a favourable opinion of many of these nunneries; believing that they realise that for which they are designed, namely, a safe retreat for unprotected females, and are conducted in a manner that bespeaks a moral and religious sisterhood. But I entertain a less favourable opinion of others. It should ever be remembered, however, that from the very nature of some of these establishments, _there is no possibility of knowing what passes within them. Immured within those lofty walls and iron bars, none can go forth to reveal what may have passed within_: so that, though possibly _the most hideous forms of vice may reign throughout--though every chamber may be a polluted place--though violence and murder may stain every gallery_; yet there is no voice to tell it to the world. I have already stated that an official gentleman, who, at times, was obliged to attend the cardinal-vicar at the formal visitation of monasteries, gave us some information on the subject. His wife informed my wife, that on one occasion, shortly before our visit to Rome, they found in a nunnery, which they named, and which was not ten minutes’ walk from our residence, that no less than _four_ of the nuns were _enceinte_! They were immediately removed to another establishment; the reverend confessor was removed elsewhere, and the whole affair was kept as secret as possible. _It would never have been known_, were it not that this nunnery was one of those whose inmates are occupied in teaching the young ladies of Rome, and young ladies _will_ talk. And matters became more canvassed, owing to the impression that the poor confessor was only a scape-goat for a higher personage, whose guilt was to be concealed by the dismissal of a subaltern.

“But there are some establishments from which even this suspicion could never go forth. They are so closely kept, that mortal eye can never see the _intima penetralia_. The ‘_sepulte vive_,’ for example, that is, the ‘_buried alive_,’ are establishments of this kind. The young creature, as a part of the ceremonial of admission, is laid alive in her coffin; and, when once admitted, she is, in fact, as if dead and buried to her friends; for she is never allowed to see again father or mother, brother or sister! Once a year, on an appointed day, the parents of the ‘buried alive,’ may attend at the nunnery, and the young creature within may hear their loved and familiar voices, but she must never see them; and, as no kind of intercourse is ever permitted, she can never know whether they are living or dead, except as she hears or does not hear their voices on that day. If a parent has died during the year, the abbess assembles the nuns, she tells them that the parent of one of them is dead, and desires all to pray for the soul of the departed; but she never reveals the name of the dead; so that all the nuns are left in a state of agonising suspense, till the one day comes round, and all listen to catch the tone of their parents’ voices; and the absence of the longed-for voice tells the tale of the bereaved recluse! Such, at least, is the account the Romans give of these establishments, which thus seem the very climax of cruelty, rending and agonising the hearts of the inmates, under the pretence of a desire to wean them from the world!”--Pp. 186-188.

Language fails to characterise this system of manifold iniquity and refined barbarity. But deeds even worse than these may well be imagined. Mr. Seymour observes, therefore, “But that which concerns our present subject is the veil of secresy that covers all within such establishments as these. There may be--I must not say there is--there may possibly be the most frightful vice--there may be the most ruffian violence--there may possibly be the veriest climax of profligacy--there may possibly be all this, and the public never know it. History has recorded the fact, that in the apartments of the inquisitors of Spain there were found _sixty-two_ young women, who had been corrupted and ruined by the inquisitors, and kept there where the public can never know it. The French soldiery flung open the Inquisition, and revealed the secret.” [See Chapter XIX.] “_There is no security against the same evil in a very large proportion of the nunneries; for every crime of earth and hell may possibly be rife throughout their cloisters, and the cry of innocence and outraged virtue, stifled within the walls, may remain unheard by the world without._ While we were at Rome, an abbess of one of the nunneries rushed forth frantically from the opened gates, plunged into the Tiber, and there sought, in its deep waters, to drown the memory and remorse of the past! We were surprised at the pains taken to deny and conceal this fact, though known and witnessed by hundreds. The ecclesiastics could not bear to hear it mentioned!”--Pp. 188, 189.