Author, Pamela H.Cowan,
daughter of Wm.and Sarah Bannister
Henderson Cowan, born and educated
in Richmond, Virginia; written
in Missouri
NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
•
Biblioteca Femina
The Gift of
Chicago Public Library
Assembled for the
World's Fair of 1893
J
One Yeae at St. Mabgabets
OB,
GRACE DABNEY'S EXPERIMENT.
SIXTH EDITION.
NEW YORK:
THOMAS WHITTAKER,
2 and 3 Bible House.
B.F.
213.4-
3 274*
COPTRIGHT
1882
BY THOMAS ■WHTTTAKEB.
NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION.
A new edition of Convent Life liaving been called for,
the publisher has had the plates carefully revised and
all typographical errors corrected.
The original edition, bearing the cumbrous title of
" The American Convent as a School for Protestant
Children " was, for obvious reasons, simplified ; but ob¬
jection having been made that the title, as altered, was
not attractive nor justifiable to the narrative, a new
name has been given it—one which the publisher hopes
will aid in spreading the reading of this most instructive
book, and impress upon parents and their children the
argument of the story and its plain teaching, so strongly
set forth.
PREFACE.
Hating come to the knowledge of many things
in connection with the education of Protestant chil¬
dren in the Roman Catholic Convents of our coun¬
try, and beholding many hundreds of such children
annually consigned to the care of those who are
bound by every consideration of faith and policy
to proselyte them, a sense of responsibility prompts
the writer of this volume to offer a few facts for the
consideration of those concerned. Aware of the
objections to fiction as a vehicle for the communi¬
cation of truth, and fully recognizing their force,
the writer has yet been induced to trespass slightly
on that domain, in using a simple narrative on which
to connect the facts related, by a desire not to
identify persons and places, and in order to give to
the statements more coherence and interest than a
bare catalogue of isolated events would do. In
attempting to give some glimpses of the interior
life of those institutions which, by their imposing
exteriors, and the admirable mechanical arrange¬
ment of their domestic concerns, produce in many
persons the impression that the training and edu-
4
fBEFACE.
cation received in them must be desirable, the author
has not selected extreme cases, which might also
be exhibited with strict regard to truth, but whose
features would often be too revolting and impure
for these pages, and in a work like this, might incur
the charge of exaggeration, but has rather chosen
the commonplace and every day experience of a few
Protestant girls, kept for the most part outside
the curtain which conceals the secrets of those
institutions.
Never before has the Roman Church put forth
such efforts as it is now making to secure to itself
the control of our country ; and with its usual con¬
summate strategy, it has seized on education, that
great lever for moving nations, by which to effect
its object; and shall Protestants prepare their chil¬
dren by such a training, to assist in destroying
those free Institutions, civil and religious, which
our fathers framed ?
Other tyrannies may pass away, but the mind of
the people once debased to receive the yoke of
Rome, the superstitions and cruelties which accom¬
panied the palmy days of that Church loom up for
our future, and the blood of martyrs must water
the earth before the day of deliverance.
ONE YEAR AT ST. MARGARET'S.
CHAPTER I.
" You are to go back to the Convent very soon,
I bear, Helen," said Mrs. Dabney to a fair young
girl of seventeen, the intimate friend of ber
daughters.
" Yes ma'am, in two weeks tbe vacation will
close. I am sorry to have so bttle time to spend
at home."
" Do you like it better than you did at first,
for we heard you were not satisfied the first
O"
yeari
" Oh yes, much better; every thing was so
different from what I had been accustomed to,
that I was very unhappy; and if Mother Cheru-
bina had not persuaded papa to let me pass the
first vacation there, I am sure I should never
have returned."
" What were the differences to which you
refer ?"
6
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" I can scarcely say now, but then I know 1
felt the teaching to be very different from my
mother's, and so many forms and ceremonies were
very irksome; but I have become accustomed
to them, and the Sisters are very kind to me."
" You have your Bible, I suppose ?"
" Oh no, they do not allow that. It seemed
very hard at first, and I told papa; but he said
we must not expect them to lay aside their rules
for us; and I would enjoy it the more when I
came home."
" And have you read it much since you came
home ?" asked Grace Dabney.
Helen blushed, and said she had not read it
at all; but she proposed next year to do so, and
in the mean time Sister Catharine had given her
a book of devotion, which she read instead of
the Bible.
" They have not made a Bom an Catholic ol
you, I hope, Helen ?"
" Oh no, I am an Episcopalian ; but I have no
opportunity to attend the Episcopal Church, and
we are required to attend the services at the
Convent regularly; and as I am not permitted
to read the Bible, I must have some other re¬
ligious reading, and they are very kind in sup¬
plying it. There is a library to which the girls
have access."
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 7
" I do not think I should like their reading,"
remarked Mary Dabney, "if it is like Mrs.
O Reilly's prayer-book, or missal, as she calls it."
"Oh, you need not read it," urged Grace, who,
enamored of Helen's description of Convent life,
was anxious that Mary and she should accom¬
pany her on her return. " We know a great deal
of the Bible, and it will be good exercise to recall
it there."
" Better, my child, than reading it at home ?"
asked Mrs. Dabney.
"It would be different, something like—like
things of which I have read." •
" Do you receive no religious instruction,
Helen?"
" There is none appointed for the Protestants,
but as we are always present when instruction is
given to the Catholic girls, we learn pretty much
the same."
" Such an arrangement is making a distinction
without a difference," said Mrs. Dabney.
When Judge Burton, Helen's father, joined
the party at tea, the subject was renewed.
"We are sorry we shall lose Helen again so
soon," remarked Mrs. Dabney. " I wish you
would keep her at home next year and send her
to Mrs. Hackley's school."
" I passed my word to the Superior of the
6
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A8
Convent," he answered, " that I would take het
back to her; she seems really to regard Helen
with much affection, and I think, Mrs. Dabney,
that you cannot do better for your daughters
than send them to the Convent for one session at
least. Helen has quite set her heart upon it, and
Grace too, I think," he added, smiling on the
bright, eager face turned pleadingly to her
mother. " You did not approve of my sending
Helen there, I remember, but she has been well
cared for."
"I was grieved that the children should be
separated, and thought Mrs. Hackley's so excel¬
lent a school that Helen could not be benefitted
by the change."
" Yes, yes, an excellent school; I was entirely
satisfied, but a child deprived of a mother's care
needs the constant supervision of a refined and
intellectual woman."
" And nowhere, I think," pursued Mrs. Dab¬
ney, " could you find one better fitted for such
a responsible charge than Mrs. Hacklcy."
" Very true, I have the highest opinion of
Mrs. Hackley; a rare woman she is, indeed, and
I should probably never have removed Helen
from her except for an accident. After our
return from Europe, I was passing through
W , and met there an old friend on a visit to
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 9
his daughter at the Convent. I accompanied
him, and was so much pleased with the Superior,
that yielding to my friend's persuasions, I left
Helen with her instead of placing her again
with Mrs. Hackley, as I had intended. Indeed
the Superior seemed, on hearing Helen's pecu¬
liar circumstances, to take the liveliest interest in
her, and she has continued to do so. Those
Sisters, Mrs. Dabney, are well calculated to
train and educate young girls."
" Do you not fear they will proselyte Helen ?"
" Not at all, my dear madam. Helen is too well
instructed in her own faith : but suppose they
did, I am not bigoted ; although an Episcopalian
myself, should my daughter prefer to be a
Catholic, I should not object. I know many
worthy Catholics."
" Certainly : but I would not like my children
to leave the Church to which I belong, and least
of all for the Itoman Catholic."
" There is a misapprehension among Protest¬
ants, I think, about the religious instruction given
in the Convents," said the Judge, " for the
Superior assured me they use no sort of influence
on the Protestant pupils in spiritual matters."
" Yet Helen assures me they are present during
all the instructions given to their own people."
"Perhaps so, I never inquired about that."
C.-
10 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
"No fear of tlieir making a Roman Catholie
of me, mamma," interposed Grace, " but I should
like to see something of their practices. I have
never been to any school but Mrs. Hackley's,
and I tliiuk a change would be pleasant for a
while."
"Yes, I am sure you would like it, Grace.
Think of this," Judge Burton continued to Mrs.
Dabney. " I shall be delighted to take the girls
on with Helen, and they will doubtless find some
advantages there which they do not have at Mrs.
Hackley's, although I must say Helen had made
remarkable progress with her, and certainly
these young ladies do her credit."
There was little danger that Mrs. Dabney
would not think of it, for Grace's mind was fully
engrossed with the subject, and quite decided
to go. Her mother had so often yielded to her
wishes that she did not doubt she would do so
in this case also, but she apprehended a more
serious difficulty iu her sister Mary, in whose
mind she could infuse 110 portion of her own
enthusiasm about the Convent, and without
whom she was most reluctant to go. Mary, only
a year younger than Grace, was from her taller
stature and more serious cast of mind, often
mistaken for the elder. From her earliest years
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 11
her character had been marked as singularly
unselfish and conscientious.
" See what a beautiful peach I have for you,
Mary."
" Oh, thank you, it looks delicious. I will save
it for grandmamma."
" ' Thou art not far from the Kingdom of God,'
my child," was the impulsive exclamation of one
on witnessing one of those beautiful acts of love
and self-denial which marked Mary's daily life.
"You should call that child Light, Mrs.
Dabney," said another, as the earnest yet radiant
face and tiny feet disappeared; " she is like a
sunbeam wherever she goes."
"Lo, such the chikl whose early feet
The path of peace have trod,
Whose secret heart with influence sweet
Is upward turned to God!"
And the infantile graces which rendered her
childhood lovely, only deepened and developed,
as she grew into maturer virtues. But to return
from our digression.
" They had a queen of May last session at the
Convent," said Grace, giving expression to some
of the thoughts which occupied her ; " who do
you think was queon, mamma ?"
"Helen?"
12
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A3
"No, the Virgin Mary! Tliey dressed and
crowned her statue, and made obeisance to her."
" I do not see much fun in that," said Mary;" it
reminds me of the Psalm we were reading
about the idols. ' They have mouths, but they
speak not, eyes have they, but they see notit
says,' they are like unto them that make them,
and every one that trusteth in them and Helen
said the Sisters told the girls that queening the
Virgin was uniting devotion with amusement."
" At all events, Helen plays finely," said Grace,
rather disconcerted at the turn Mary had given
to her remark.
" She has an excellent ear for music, and
played well before she went there," said her
mother.
" But she has a charming music teacher at the
Convent, and I would like so much to take lessons
from her, and Mary would like it too, I am sure,
after a while."
" I do not wish to go," said Mary, and I am
sure mamma will not require me to do so."
" No indeed," said Mrs. Dabney, " and I wish
Grace that you would not persist in urging this
change. I do not think it best for you, but you
know how painful it is for me to deny you a
gratification." Grace was ill pleased; she would
have been better satisfied had her mother said
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 13
no, positively, and thus put an end to her hopes ;
but she found solace at the piano, whence
presently came such rich melody as effectually
roused Mrs. Dabney and Mary from the reverie
into which each had fallen as the twiligdit deep¬
ened. Musicians themselves, yet neither pos¬
sessing the wonderful gift of Grace, they listened
with delighted attention. Grace's voice was
indeed one of singular power and sweetness, and
although not seventeen, the best instruction, uni¬
ted to her own exquisite taste, had rendered her
a rare and admired musician, and each effort
seemed to give promise of higher proficiency.
When tea was announced, she was with them in
a moment. The cloud all gone from her bright
face, and passing her arm lovingly around her
mother, she led her to the tea-room.
Possessing many of the graces and accomplish¬
ments which make a woman charming, Mrs.
Dabney, although educated by a pious mother
and herself a professor of religion, had fallen of
late years into habits of indolence and self-
indulgence not very favorable to a faithful
discharge of her duties. AVhen not occupied
with company, the last new novel on the library
table was an invitation to sensational enjoy¬
ment she had seldom the self-denial to resist,
slthough her conscience was by no means
o
14 THE AMEKICAN CONVENT AS
satisfied with, such an appropriation of her time
Meanwhile her children, left more and more to
their own guidance, took each the course to
which their respective dispositions led them.
Grace was only momentarily discouraged by her
mother's gentle reprimand, and often during the
succeeding days expressed her great anxiety to
go to the Convent, while her mother, entirely
convinced that it was a wrong measure, was
annoyed and troubled by her entreaties, yet
never made the subject a matter of earnest
prayer, and never put that decided negative to
the suggestion which would have settled the
question. Grace was therefore not much sur¬
prised, when lingering one night to urge some
new reason for the desired permission, that her
mother should end the conversation by saying,
" Since you are so anxious, Gracie dear, per¬
haps it is best. I shall not oppose your going.
One session, I am sure, will satisfy you. Mary
does not wish to go, and I would rather she
should not. You will liav.e Helen for a room¬
mate, I presume, and you must remember your
prayers, Grace, for there are many temptations
there, more I fear than we know of; however,
your curiosity will be satisfied, and you will soon
be back."
"Dear mamma, thank you, I am so glad;"
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 15
and Grace kissed lier mother rapturously, and
after many promises of what she would do at the
Convent, ran to impart the joyful intelligence to
her sister.
" Mary, mamma has consented," she ex¬
claimed, as she embraced her sister, " and now,
will you not go too ? Pray say, yes; it will be
so pleasant. Mamma says she would railier you
would not go," she added, feeling it not right to
give a false impression, " but she will not object
if you choose it, so please just decide at once.
I must go, and I cannot bear the idea of leaving
you."
Mary fervently returned the embrace. Tears
filled her eyes. " Dear Grace," she said, " I am
so sorry mamma has consented. I cannot go,
indeed I cannot, and Oh, if you would only give
it up ! The more I think of it, the more I dread
it. I cannot leave mamma, and Mrs. Hackley,
and all the girls I love."
" But do you not love Helen, and me too, a little,
sister?" asked Grace, poutingly.
" Ah, you know that, Grace, but I do not think
that we should go there, because Judge Burton
chooses to send Helen."
"But Judge Burton says it is such a fine
place for girls. Will you let me go without you?"
16
THE AMEISICAN CONVENT.
" Not if I can lielp it, for I hope you will not
go at all."
" But indeed I shall."
Mary said no more, but when she had com¬
mitted herself and her loved ones to God, and
lain down beside her sister, thinking how soon
they might be separated, she threw her arms
around her and both gave vent to their excited
feelings in a flood of tears, Grace almost resolv¬
ing to give up her projected scheme.
CHAPTER IL
"thou shalt not tempt the lokd thy god!"
It was a few evenings after the events re¬
corded in the preceding chapter, that Mr. and
Mrs. Chamberlain were seated in their back
parlor; it was twilight, after a busy day, for on
the morrow they were to leave their home for a
long sojourn in Europe.
Mrs. Chamberlain was a prompt person, and
had used her accustomed diligence to have
everything in readiness, and she and Mr. Cham¬
berlain were now discussing the last things which
will arise in spite of the best foresight and pre¬
caution. The door opened, and Mrs. Harris, a
neighbor and esteemed friend, was announced.
"I just heard of your intended departure,"
said she, after warm greetings had been ex¬
changed, "for we only returned this morning,
and I could not let you go without saying good¬
bye, at the risk of intruding on your last hours."
18
THE AMEKICAN CONTENT AS
" I heartily thank you for coming," answered
Mrs. Chamberlain, " I felt so anxious to see you
before we left."
" You take the girls with you, I suppose."
" No, they are too young to leave school, and
as they could not be with us in our journeyings,
we shall leave them at the Convent at W ."
"At the Convent!" repeated Mrs. Harris, in
astonishment, " why do you remove them from
Mrs. Hackley's school ? She has good accommo¬
dations for boarders. I thought you approved
her system entirely."
" Yes, we do, but proposing to be absent so
long, and the girls being at an age to be kept
out of society, we concluded it would be better
to leave them at the Convent. We understand
they are very secluded there."
" I confess I could scarcely have believed it,
had you not told me yourself. I have heard
you speak with such disapprobation of the doc¬
trines of the Roman Catholic Church."
" Oh yes, I always lid, and I still disapprove
both the doctrines and practice of that church,
and I would not have my children become
Roman Catholics for the world."
" Then why put them, at their tender and
susceptible age, in such danger ?"
" Our girls," interposed Mr. Chamberlain,
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 19
" are in no danger on that score; they are, I
assure you, as conversant with that controversy
as myself,* and you know I have given it some
study. I would like you to hear Marcia speak
on the subject; indeed I scarcely know where
the child has informed herself so completely,
although I have been at some pains to set her
right there."
" Then how can you desire your daughters to
go there, and how can they think you consistent
in sending them ?"
" Circumstances alter cases," answered the
gentleman, laughing, yet annoyed ; " I have pro¬
vided against the danger, and if I choose to use
them, both sides are accommodated."
"Do you feel satisfied?" asked Mrs. Harris,
turning to Mrs. Chamberlain.
" Perhaps we have been a little too stiff on the
subject," she answered, evasively.
" And you wish to make reparation at the risk
of sacrificing your daughters' eternal welfare ?"
" Now that, Mrs. Harris, is making it a little
too serious. I have no idea that their sophistries
will affect my children's faith, one jot or tittle."
" Presbyterians, my dear madam," again inter¬
posed Mr. Chamberlain, " are well grounded in
* The writer has known this assertion to be made by two
fathers, of their young daughters.
20
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
tlieir catechism, and our Church, you know, has
no leaning to Popery or Puseyism," glancing
mischievously at the lady.
"It seems to me," she answered," a considerable
leaning to Popery in you at least, to intrust the
interests of the two beings dearest to you to the
Janizaries of the Pope, who are sure to pervert
or destroy them to the utmost of their power >
you know that this is not only a Romish, but
a Jesuit institution, and I cannot imagine that
you, who are so conversant with this subject, can
forget the Jesuit oath, which, amcng other things,
declares the doctrine of the Protestants to be
" damnable, and those to be damned who will
not forsake it." The Jesuit further swears " he
will help any of His Holiness' agents, wherever
he may he, and do his utmost to extirpate the
heretical Protestant doctrine and to destroy all
their pretended power."*
' But, my dear lady, do we not see hundreds
of these Jesuits daily associating with Protestants
(for they are not confined to the priesthood 01
to the religious orders) and educating hundreds
cf Protestant children year after year; and
although we do not hear of their making many
proselytes, neither do we hear of their seeking to
* Jesuit Oath of S~cresy, as given by Archbishop, Eshsr,
i*nd iw published by the Mayor of Dublin.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 21
destroy their associates and pupils; and why
should my children be in more danger than
others ?"
" But we do hear of continual efforts at prose¬
lyting : the oath, of course, implies, with safety to
themselves; and thanks to our Heavenly Father
we are not yet relapsed to those times when life
and limb, as well as mind and conscience, were
in their power: when the call of ' the Holy
Office' at the midnight hour, carried terror to
every heart."
" You are rather severe ; those times can never
return."
"It is the boast of Home that she changes
not; and so long as she endorses, as she does,
the atrocities perpetrated under the direction of,
and by her agents in the past, she shows she is
actuated by the same spirit, and only lacks the
power to re-enact the like. I speak earnestly,
but not more severely, I think, than truth requires.
I speak warmly, because I feel the great import¬
ance of this step for your children. I love them;
they are the chosen associates of my own daugh¬
ter, and I would that I could save them from
this danger."
" You look only on the dark side of the pic¬
ture, Mrs. Harris. They have some advantages,
I am told, in these Convents; good teachers,
22
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
seclusion, regularity of discipline, and example of
fine manners in the Sisters."
Mrs. Harris smiled a sad smile. " Let us see,"
said she. " Advantage first, good teachers! Mrs.
0 , who was a proselyte to their faith, and
who taught a private school here, said she
' wanted no more pupils from the Convents;
they were the worst taught girls she received
from any schools.' I know this acknowledgment
was only drawn from her by the continual provo¬
cation of ill-taught and badly trained children,
and her testimony is corroborated by all who
have impartially observed the comparative re¬
sults of Protestant and Conventual education.
" Advantage second, the seclusion you admire,
1 consider only an additional means of fastening
on their young minds the pernicious teaching
to which they are continually subjected; for
debarred from the healthful and restraining in¬
tercourse with society which they enjoy in
properly organized Protestant schools, or at
home, their minds are enervated, and fall more
readily into the snares laid for them. The young
must have mental as well as physical food, and
if that which is wholesome is withheld, they will
feed on the poison that is offered.
"Your third advantage is, I believe, discipline.
God forbid that we should subject our children
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDBEN. 23
to such discipline as leads tliem to address prayers
to the Virgin and the Saints, and to imagine
that in practising priestly or self-imposed pen¬
ances, they are performing meritorious service to
God!—and then, example of manners! Why,
Mr. Chamberlain, is it not more reasonable
that intelligence, purity of mind, and intercourse
with good society, should afford materials for
fine manners, rather than isolation with a com¬
pany of women, many of whom we hiozo, are
from the lower walks of life, and whose very
training is conducive to the narrowest views!
But were I compelled to grant that every advan¬
tage you have cited, was with the Romanists,
there are yet two requisites which I hold para¬
mount to all others, and in both of these, we
know them to be wanting : I mean good, moral
principles and a pure Faith."
'■ But our girls are too well taught to be in¬
fluenced in these matters."
"I trust so, but I should as soon think of putting
my daughter to study Voltaire or Renan, in the
expectation that her good sense would preserve
her from the influence of their infidel opinions,
as of sending her to drink in, without restraint,
the teachings of that false system. How could I,
night and morning, commend her to the care of
Almighty God, having voluntarily thrust her
24
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
into sucli temptation ? The good instruction on
which you rely to keep your children, is well;
but the grace of God, converting the soul, only
can preserve any of us from the insidious snares
of that delusion which God himself has called
' The Mystery of Iniquity.' "
Mr. Chamberlain suddenly remembered an
engagement, and apologizing and bidding adieu
to Mrs. Harris, he hastened away, glad to
escape.
" I wish we had seen you, dear Mrs. Harris,"
said Mrs. Chamberlain, " before we entered into
this arrangement; our pastor is absent too, and
I feel that he will disapprove it; but really it
seemed as if we could do nothing else. Mr.
Chamberlain thought the low state of my health
necessitated my going with him. Nothing but
his wishes would have induced me to leave my
children."
" But why take them from Mrs. Hackley, in
whom you have confidence, and whose life is
open to the inspection and scrutiny of the
community, to commit them to these people of
whom you know absolutely nothing ?"
" My dear friend, you do not imagine that
these Sisters are other than pure women ?"
" I do not occupy myself with imagining any¬
thing about them. I know there is abundant
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 25
evidence that many of them are wholly unfit to
be entrusted with the care of young people, aside
from the faith they profess. And your daughters
must fall to those who chance to be in authority
at this Convent; they have no vouchers except
those whose interests are identical with their
own."
" You make me feel very uneasy."
" I heartily wish I could persuade you from
this measure. I dread the effect of error on a girl
of Marcia's character especially, and our years
of friendship forbid me to be silent when the
welfare of your family is at stake."
" Mr. Chamberlain has made all the arrange¬
ments ; and I doubt whether I can persuade him.
to change his purpose; there will be quite a little
circle of Protestants there too, even from our
town. Helen Burton has been home during
vacation, and Grace Dabney is gone with her; so
I hope they will help each other, and that all
will be well; still I would prefer the girls should
not go. Indeed, had I thought of half the ob¬
jections you have mentioned, I should never
have consented."
"Is it possible that Grace Dabney is gone
there?"
" Yes, through Judge Burton's influence, T
3
26
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
believe ; and lie, I tliink, first suggested to Mr.
Chamberlain to send our daughters."
Mrs. Harris sighed. " How long do you
propose to be absent?"
" A year, at least. Mr. Chamberlain's business
will decide. I thought it too long for him to be
alone, and when the Doctor and he urged my
poor health, I could no longer refuse to go."
" If you can persuade Mr. Chamberlain to
leave the girls with Mrs. Hacldey, it will afford
me pleasure to do all I can for their welfare and
happiness ; and with her, you know they would
be safe."
" Thank you; but should they be in the Convent,
will you not look after them occasionally?"
" In any way I can, certainly; but I do not see
how I can be useful to them in that case. You
know it is quite a journey. I shall, however, be
happy to have them spend their holidays with
me, if permitted. But I must not detain you
longer, so good-bye. I hope Mr. Chamberlain
will yet alter his plan for the girls." So with
affectionate farewell, the friends parted.
It was a sad evening to Mrs. Chamberlain.
Fondly attached to her children, the pain she felt
in parting from them for so long a period was
now augmented by apprehensions she had not
felt, until suggested by her more reflective friend,
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDEEN.
27
but which her reason assured her were Avell
founded.
She had indeed wondered at Mr. Chamber¬
lain's proposal to leave them at the Convent, but
accustomed to rely upon his judgment, she had
easily yielded her assent, and she now blamed
herself for having acted, not only against her
own convictions of right, but contrary also to
what she knew would have been the counsel of
her pastor, had he been consulted. She felt the
more blameworthy, because she was sure her
husband would not have persisted in his scheme,
had she decidedly opposed it, and she now re¬
solved to endeavor to change his purpose even
at the last hour, although with little hope of
success. Marcia and Lucy had returned home,
and tea being ended, she commenced her un¬
gracious task.
" I have been thinking, my dear," she began,
"that we had better leave the girls with Mrs.
Hackley after all; for what do we know of these
Sisters, that we should entrust our children to
them ?"
" Wife," answered Mr. Chamberlain, " do not
try to make a fool of me because Mrs. Harris has
put a parcel of nonsense in your head ; you wore
well enough satisfied before, and Mrs. Harris
28
THE AME1UCAN CONVENT AS
is just a meddlesome, narrow-minded, bigoted
woman."
" Oh, do not say that, dear; we who have ex¬
perienced so much kindness from Mrs. Harris,
can never think her meddlesome in giving us
advice about the children ; nor can I think her
narrow-minded or bigoted when I remember her
labors for those poor Horn an Catholics whom she
nursed and fed when no one else would do it,
although so many of their own people knew of
their destitution. We know she is full of love
to every one, whatever be their creed. No; we
must never call Mrs. Harris bigoted."
" Well, well, you are eloquent in her defence ;
but I tell you, Lucy, it is too late ; it is impossi¬
ble to change our plans now, and we must con¬
tent ourselves."
Marcia and Lucy too, who had not at first
liked the idea of going to the Convent, were now
earnest in opposing any change, as they had
talked it over with Helen Burton and Grace
Dabney, and were anxious to see the novelties
they anticipated there.
" The expenses, wife," resumed Mr. Chamber¬
lain, " are much less at the Convent than at Mrs.
Hackley's; they are indeed scarcely more than
nominal; it is quite surprising how they cau
afford good education for such small fees. It suits
A school for protestant children. 29
iuo just now, however, for my funds are all
appropriated, and, strange as it may seem, the
difference of "a few hundred dollars is more to
me at this time, than so many thousands will
probably be next year. Let us retire," he added,
willing to waive further discussion on the subject.
The gentleman had not mentioned to his wife
that Judge Burton's suggestion was seconded by
the proposals of a Roman Catholic agent, nor
had he investigated sufficiently to discover what
might have alarmed him; namely, that so dis¬
interested, is the charity of the Romish Church,
that while multitudes of her own people are left
in the grossest ignorance, her authorities are
offering gratuitous education to Protestant chil¬
dren, wherever eligible; that such has been the
policy of that Church in this country for many
years, and that many nominal Protestants, with
means as ample as his own, were actually accept¬
ing such charity for their children, under the ex¬
cuse, that they approve the seclusion and dis¬
cipline of these institutions.
A day of unusual activity had brought weari¬
ness alike to the mind and body of Mr. Cham¬
berlain, and his deep regular breathing had long
since indicated that all care was lost in the
sweet unconsciousness of sleep—but in vain the
mother sought such sleep ; she was silenced, but
30
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
not satisfied, and as hour after liour passed in
restless tossings upon tlie bed, lier excited mind
recalled many of the fearful scenes, in which the
fives of the holy and faithful have been offered
up a sacrifice to the cruel intolerance of Rome ;
and early morning found her feverish and unre-
freshed, setting out for the Convent of St. Mar¬
garet's, for they were to leave Marcia and Lucy
there, en route for New York.
CHAPTER m.
' U' idolatry, in forms the most abhorrent to all reason.
Mid virtue, could seduce Solomon, once so wise, what havoc
must it he expected to make among those who were never
wise ?"
During the few days which intervened between
the evening on which Grace obtained her
mother's consent to her project, and the time of
her departure, she had many misgivings on the
subject, but finally, love of novelty prevailed, and
after a sad adieu to her mother and sister, sho
fcvnd herself, in company with Judge Burton
and Helen, seated in the car for "W——. Twenty
or thirty miles an hour are not favorable to
meditation, and Grace's grief at parting soon
yielded to the kindly interest of her companions
and the beautiful scenery which greeted her
vision whenever she turned from them. The
second day brought them to W -, where
a stage waited to convey them to St. Mar¬
garet's, a few miles back. They passed rapidly
32
THE AMEltlCAN CONVENT AS
through the straggling streets, and lo! before
their eyes, enclosed within high walls, and
embosomed in lofty trees, rose the high towers
of St. Margaret's, the goal of Grace's desires !
As the heavy gates closed behind them, and
lit<r inexperienced eyes glanced through the
deeply shaded grounds, and upwards at the
sombre-looking walls, a feeling of regret and
indefinite fear crept over her, which the large
and rather dismal hall into which they were
ushered, did not tend to dispel; although her
risible faculties were challenged by the grotesque
dress and demeanor of the nun who admitted
them. She remembered Helen's description of
the Sisters' dress, but she was not prepared to
find one filling a menial office, habited in such a
cumbersome costume, and she wondered what
it had to do with their religion. She had just
time to contrast the desolate, cheerless air of
the reception room, the walls of which were
decorated with many glaring pictures of apochry-
plial saints, with the bright and tasteful home
she had left; when the Superior, whom Judge
Burton addressed as " Madame Cherubina,"
entered
She received them courteously, was delighted
to see Helen again, and engaged with vivacity
in conversation with Judge Burton, vho gave
A SCHOOL FOII l'ROTESTANT CHILDREN. 33
licr sucli information as was requisite, concerning
Grace, whom he had already introduced as a
new pupil.
" Our pupils are rapidly re-assembling," said
Madame, in reply to Judge Burton ; " we have a
hundred and fifty."
" I think you may expect many more from .
I have not been unmindful of your interests."
" Thank you; I trust the advantage may not
be altogether on our side. We shall endeavor
to do our duty."
" I feel indeed indebted for the interest you
have manifested in my daughter, and assure you
she appreciates your kindness."
Helen was again caressed. After many more
expressions of mutual satisfaction, Judge Burton
departed, leaving Helen tearful and sad.
Meanwhile Grace had been eagerly examining
her new governess, but that lady's physique
quite baffled her investigating powers, and she
gave up the task, acknowledging to herself that
me knew not whether she admired her or not.
Madame was perhaps forty years old, much above
the medium height; a slight stoop however, not
incompatible with a certain grace of manner,
made her appear not so tall : her features were
handsome, but Grace thought an expression of
haughtiness spoiled the urbane manner and
31 THE AMEItlCAN CONVENT AS
affectionate phrases so profusely used to her
guests. She now drew Grace to her, gave her a
warm embrace, remarked flatteringly on her
brilliant complexion, made sundry inquiries, and
hoped she would be very happy with them.
Willi much address she drew the minds of tin
young girls from their own thoughts and in¬
terested them in the details of the opening
exercises of the school, and in the events which
had transpired in the Convent since Helen's
departure; and then summoned a Sister, who
conducted them to the refectory, where the pupils
were already assembled at tea. I cannot say
that Grace felt very happy that night: it was the
first time in her life that she had been alone
among so many strangers, strangers personally
and in customs; and had it not been for Helen's
presence, she would have been quite miserable.
Even Helen, after greeting the Sisters they saw
that evening, found herself a stranger to most
of the faces around, so many pupils of the last
session were gone, and so many new ones were
replacing them.
Nearly a week had elapsed, and Grace was«
becoming accustomed to the routine of the Con¬
vent : many pupils had been added to their num¬
ber, and among them were Marcia and Lucy
Chamberlain. Mrs. Chamberlain, in her inter-
A SCftOOL TOR PROTESTANT CHIIDREN. 35
view with the Superior, was nervous and dis¬
tressed. Desiring to see the arrangements of
the institution, that lady politely conducted the
party through the various departments, and in
their progress they entered the chapel, a building
separate from the main edifice, and of much later
construction, but connected with it by a long
covered corridor, thus making it accessible in all
weather.
It was larger than the accommodations of the
Convent inmates required, and gorgeously fitted
up with paintings and statues, the arrangements
being similar to those in other Romish churches.
A large picture of the Saviour was over the altar,
candles burning before the Host, and at the side,
was an altar to the Virgin, over which hung hei
life-sized figure. "When the visitors entered, a
young girl was prostrated before the latter pic¬
ture, at her devotions.
Mrs. Chamberlain had seldom before been in
a Roman Catholic church, and not at all for
many years. When she had hitherto entered
one, from motives of curiosity, she had regarded
it much as she would have done a heathen tem¬
ple, so utterly corrupt and false had she deemed
some of the dogmas and practices of that Church.
Now as she nazed upon the idolatrous appen¬
dages around, and looked at her children, who
r- i
3G
THE AMEKICAN CONTENT AS
were viewing them with curious eyes, a sicken¬
ing dread seized her. She would have caught
them to her bosom and declared she could not
leave them there. She would make another
appeal to her husband ; she stepped toward him,
but just then Marcia called his attention to some¬
thing she wished explained. Had she known
that similar emotions were filling Mr. Chamber¬
lain's mind, and that he would have gladly
availed himself of any expressed reluctance from
her to leaving their daughters, as an excuse for
bringing them away, no fear of imputed caprice
or inconsistency would have kept her silent.
But the critical moment passed; the Superior,
experienced perhaps in such cases, with admir¬
able tact redoubled her efforts to entertain and
engross her guests.
" Are Protestant pupils required to attend wor¬
ship here ?" meekly asked the mother, recovering
in a measure her self-possession.
" They are required to be presort," answered
the lady, "because otherwise some of the reli-
gieuses would have to remain with them, and thi;:
is our nil, you know," she added, laying her hand
devoutly on her breast and casting up her eyes;
" but they can bring their Bibles and read them
while they arc here."
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN.
37
That is sojiie comfort," thought Mrs. Cham¬
berlain ; " the girls can have their' Bibles."
The Superior then led the way through the
school-rooms, discoursing volubly as she went,
but in a soft, low tone. The large and valuable
philosophical apparatus, which the girls after¬
wards found was kept more for such occasional
displays as this, than for purposes of instruction,
was duly pointed out and admired. The neat¬
ness and order of the whole establishment could
not but receive the favorable appreciation of one
who possessed domestic accomplishments in so
large a measure as Mrs. Chamberlain.
" Pardon a mother's anxiety," she said, when
leaving ; " we shall be so far from our children,
that they will be peculiarly dependent on your
kindness; and above all," she added, hesitatingly,
" my dear madam, I desire that no one may in¬
terfere with their religious faith. We are Protes¬
tants, you are aware." The Superior bowed and
smiled. " Our children are well taught, and it
would be most distressing to us should any
attempt be made to shake their faith."
" The rules of our institution forbid any suet
attempts, my dear lady, I assure you; the re¬
ligious instruction given here is for those of our
own communion; with the religion of the Prctes-
4
38 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
tant pupils, we do not interfere.* I trust we
shall make your daughters happy, as it shall be
our earnest endeavor to do and with a gentle
pressure of the hand she led the weeping lady
to the carriage. The bland manner and sooth¬
ing words did not fail of their effect, and Mrs.
Chamberlain felt far better satisfied in leaving
her children than she imagined she could, when
in the chapel. " She seems so kind, so consid¬
erate, she will surely do right by our children,"
said she, unconsciously striving to encourage her¬
self by re-assuring Mr. Chamberlain.
" No doubt, my love," replied he, " we must
not think otherwise but he felt uncomfortable
and dissatisfied with himself. He looked out
upon the massive walls they were leaving behind,
upon which the red light of the setting sun was
falling. " See, Lucy, what a glorious sunset!"
A heavy cloud, before the words were finished,
* A Methodist gentleman, lately, when placing his son in
a Jesuit College, expressed to the Brother in attendance his
desire that his religious principles should not be influenced;
and was assured his wishes in that regard would be scrupu¬
lously respected, the brother adding, " We have the children
of infidels under our care and carefully abstain from giving
them any Christian instruction, such being the desire of
their parents." Such a declaration from a so-called Chris¬
tian trainer of youth, scarcely needs a commentary, and finds
its equal in inconsistency only in the conduct of the Christian
parents who commit their children to such guides.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 39
dropped, as a dark mantle over the scene. Mrs.
Chamberlain leaned forward to look, but the
glory and the beauty were gone.
After the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Chamber¬
lain, Marcia was asked for the keys of their
trunks; and on being shown into the general
dormitory at bed-time, the sisters found their
night-clothes deposited on the little cot which
each was to occupy. The next morning, remem¬
bering the remark of the Superior to her mother
in the chapel, Marcia asked one of the sisters if
they could get their Bibles out of their trunks.
She was answered by a look of surprise, and
upon her adding, " The Superior told my mother
that we could take our Bibles to the chapel and
read them during service," the Sister smiled and
went away, saying she would see. Marcia and
Lucy had to go to chapel without Bibles, where
they saw all the Protestant pupils in the same
case. Marcia however was not easily discour¬
aged, and upon the first opportunity* preferred
her request to the Superior herself, reminding
her of her promise to her mother.
" You must wait a little, my dear," said that
lady, blandly and kindly as possible, " I am very
sorry, but I find your Bible is not like ours; we
are very anxious however to do every thincr for
your happiness, and I will endeavor to arrange
40
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
about it, so you must exercise a little patience."
Marcia thought it strange that one occupying
such a position did not know before that Protes¬
tant and Roman Catholic Bibles were not exactly
alike, but her indignation at the flagrant breach
of promise was allayed by the persuasive tones
of the Mother, who detained her with many kind
inquiries and expressions of interest; and she was
communicating to Lucy her expectation that
their Bibles would be soon restored, when she
was interrupted by Harriet Whittingham.
" Oh, you will get used to it. They don't allow
Protestant Bibles here, and we are just as well
off, I suppose; for at the other Convent they did
permit us to take our Bibles to the chapel some¬
times, but it was all a farce, and those who com¬
menced it soon dropped it; for what girl would
read her Bible with all the performances going
on before her? For my part, I don't know what
is true, and what is not, so I do as they say ;
although it was hard at first to go down on my
knees before a figure of the Virgin."
" Why, had you not learned your own religion
before you came here ?"
" Yes, I thought I was a Protestant, but then
T was so young, and I have heard so much said
against Protestantism here, that, as I said, I don't
know what to believe."
A SCHOOL FOE PHOTESTANT CHILDREN. 41
" Wliy did you come here so young?"
" My mother died," answered the lively talker,
a shadow darkening her face for a moment, " and
father married again. I suppose I was in the
way, for I was soon sent here."
" Poor child !" said Marcia," no mother! I am
thankful I have one, and have been better taught."
The result was as Harriet predicted: the Bibles
were not forthcoming, and the girls " got used, to it"
The days passed on, but as the novelty wore
off, Marcia, Lucy and Grace found themselves
ill-satisfied. Marcia looked contemptuously upon
the lessons which, she said, " any child could
learn," and which by no means filled up her
time ; while Grace experienced a general feeling
of disappointment and disgust, and was only
restrained from writing to be recalled home by a
consciousness that she deserved the punishment
for her wilfulness. Grace had often before borne
quite heroically the evils this very wilfulness had
brought on her. Nor was she now insensible to
the untiring efforts of the ever kind and affection¬
ate Helen, who, having become accustomed to the
things which were so annoying to the new pupils,
strove to render them as little offensive as pos¬
sible to her friends. Grace was not at this time
aware of a fact she soon learned : namely, that
no letter was sent from the Convent nor any
42 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
delivered to a pupil, until inspected by the
Superior, and also by Sister Yiatica; thus all
confidential intercourse between pupils and
parents was prevented.
" Where are you going, girls?" asked Marcia,
as tlrey came from breakfast on Sunday.
" Why, of course, to the study-room ; we have
to study an hour."
"The Bible?"
" Oh no, our lessons for to-morrow."
" I learned my lessons yesterday—we surely
need not take Sunday to study our week lessons
I thought it strange there was no general study¬
ing last evening."
" It is the rule here," replied Helen.
" What next ?" asked one of the new pupils,
when study hour was over.
" Letter writing. Do you not wish to wrrite
to somebody ?"
" Do the Sisters permit letter writing on
Sunday ?" exclaimed Marcia, in surprise.
" Oh yes, the rules require it."
"This is a strange religious Community ; why,
I should as soon think of taking out my sewing."
" I thought so too," said Helen, when I came
here, and it was long before I could think it
right, but the Sisters say it is not wrong, so now
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 43
I write to papa, and indeed nearly all the corres¬
pondence of the Convent is done on this day."
" We have never been permitted to write
letters on Sunday," said Marcia.
" I remember," said Grace, " hearing tJncle
Robert say, that writing ordinary letters to friends
on Sunday was robbing God of a portion of the
time He has appointed for Ilis service ; he said,
in writing to give or ask religious instruction,
the case was different."
" What shall we do, now that lessons and
letters are dispatched ?" queried Marcia, " we
have no Bible-class, no Bible."
"We may chat and tell stories," answered one,
".Get books from the library," interposed
Helen.
" It is scarcely Sunday reading you get there,
I think, judging by the book I saw you have,"
said Marcia, " but I suppose we must employ the
day in sinning some way."
" Always provided the eye of our angel is upon
us," added Grace, as the little bustling figure of
Sister Victorine approached, and joined the
group.
" What is it, girls ?"
"We were just discussing how we should spend
the hours before dinner," said Marcia.
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" Have you finished your letters ?"
" We did not wish to write letters," answered
the young lady, " but saw the other girls write."
" Ah well, you have all been to mass. The
Holy Virgin protect you the rest of the day!
Amuse yourselves as you like."
"We don't like to amuse ourselves," said Grace,
afraid to trust Marcia to answer, " we would
rather employ ourselves more suitably to the day."
" Well, there is the library ; you will find Sister
Viatica there." And the girls moved on.
" Perhaps," she whispered, as Grace lingered,
" as you would like to spend the day piously, yc u
would go with me and say some prayers to the
Blessed Virgin in the chapel. I'll get you a
rosary."
" No, no, thank you," and Grace joined her
companions as quickly as possible.
To the library they went, and Sister Viatica
kindly undertook to select the reading.
" Here is ' The Monastery,' handing a volume
to Marcia, " a beautiful book, I assure you."
" Thank you, but father never allows me to
read romances on Sunday."
" Well, here is something devout, ' The Life of
St. Theresa,' Avritten by herself."
Neither did Marcia fancy that, but politeness
forbade farther objection, and she and her com-
A. SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. -15
pani ins were soon seated, eucli witli a 1 took
which their respective parents would have been
ill-pleased to see in their hands. What, indeed,
suitable for a Protestant girl, could be expected
here, where every thing was carefully excluded
but such works of literature, devotion, or romance
as taught or recommended the peculiar dogmas
of Borne ?
On entering a room appropriated to the girls
in the afternoon, they encountered a scene for
which even the morning's avocations had not
prepared them. Half a dozen girls were seated
around a table, eagerly engaged in a game of
cards.
" You cheated, Nora!" " I declare I did not!"
" I won't play if you do such mean things!"
" I'll tell Sister Celestine!" were some of the
exclamations which met their astonished ears,
while little Bettie Campbell was seated at Sister
Celestine's feet, earnestly and quietly seeking,
with a pack of cards, to divine her future life.
An open book lay on the nun's lap, the large
cross suspended from her neck marking her read¬
ing place as she gazed in apparent indifference
on the scene before her, unmoved by the vocif¬
erous and unseemly epithets which caused tho
new-comers to recoil in indignant surprise.
Not many months had passed, however, before
4G THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
all qualms of conscience about Sunday occupa¬
tions were silenced, at least so far as to allow
our young friends to join the letter writers or
tlie story-telling club, or any of the various clubs
except that for cards, for Sunday amusement,
with which the Convent abounded, as a matter
of course. So facile is youth, so susceptible to
the contagion of evil example, particularly when
strengthened by the voice of authority. " Are
we wiser than our teachers ?" is soon the insid¬
ious reasoning of the sin-loving heart, when
some questionable pleasure is proposed.
" Won't you join our circle ?" asked Kate
Harper, approaching Grace as she sat conning
her lessons.
" What circle ? I already belong to your
classes."
" Oh, but I mean our circle of study."
" I do not understand you."
"Well, I suppose not, you are a Protestant;
but still, you might join us; we all agree to say
so many prayers to the Blessed Virgin, and
they all go together to—to "
" One lump," suggested Grace, laughing.
" Yes, and the Virgin helps us in our lessons."
" How do you know that the Virgin helps you?"
"Why, because—the Sisters say so, and we
know our lessons."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 47
"Sometimesinterposed Grace, "but I sup¬
pose you study your lessons sometimes."
" Yes, and you always study yours, I believe,
for you always know them."
" But I never pray to the Virgin; and it would
be useless for me to join your circle, for I do
not believe the Virgin can hear the prayers ad¬
dressed to her."
" Oh, well, but you could say them," said Kate,
" and that would do."
" Mrs. Hackley used to tell us," rejoined
Grace, " that we should ask the blessing of God
upon our studies, as well as upon every thing
else that we undertake. Oh, I wish you could
have heard lier talk, Kate, she was so wise and
so good."
"Why then did you leave her?" asked her
companion.
" Because," answered Grace, closing her eyes
for a moment, as if to exclude a painful vision,
" because "
" Here comes Lucy Chamberlain," exclaimed
Kate hurriedly, " won't you join ? I shall not ask
her."
"You had better;" a mischievous twinkle
banishing the sober sadness and the moistened
lashes of the preceding moment.
48
THE AMEltlCAN CONVENT AS
" Better what ?" asked Lucy, catching the last
words.
" Kate wants us to join her circle of study,"
answered Grace, demurely.
" For what purpose ?"
" To pray to the Virgin to help us to learn our
lessons."
Lucy turned her large eyes wonderingly on
Kate. " Oh, it is not my circle particularly,"
said that young lady, a little abashed, " all the
girls, with the exception of a few of the Protes¬
tant pupils, belonu to it : did you never hear of
the Sodality ?'
" You unite to pray to the Virgin for help in
the lessons?"
" Yes."
" Well, that accounts for the lessons being so
badly recited here; you expect the Virgin to
learn your lessons for you, and she, blessed saint,
never hears or knows a word about it. Why,
my dear, the Virgin is not God, to hear in every
place at once."
Kate looked first angry, and then bewildered,
at Lucy's pleasant manner and hard argument;
she turned to go, not knowing what to answer.
" Your circle ma}7 pray to the Virgin," added
Lucy, " and Grace and I will study our lessor-;",
and see who keeps the head."
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 49
A sliort time after, Sister Angelica said to a
coterie of girls, " Father O'Toole is to commence
his lectures this evening, and I hope you will all
be very attentive ; he is a great preacher, and we
should think ourselves much favored that he
makes time to come to us occasionally."
In the evening accordingly, the first lecture of
a course was delivered. The subject was the
Church, and the principal object this evening
seemed to be to teach what the Church ica-s not.
The Bev. lecturer proceeded " to analyze
Protestantism," he said : in fact, merely to state
many things about Protestantism. He told them
they " should be very sorry for Protestants: they
were only such, because ignorant of the doctrines
of the Church. There was no sin that Protes¬
tantism did not encourage; it even sanctioned
and led to polygamy, a crime permitted by
Luther and his coadjutors."
He further amused his audience with an
anecdote illustrative of the prejudices of Protes¬
tants against Catholics. " A respectable and
well-educated lady," he said, " confessed that for
many years she had the idea that Catholics had
goats' feet, and the first time she saw one, she
instinctively looked to see if they were human or
not."
" It has ever been the task of Protestantism,"
5
50
THE AMEBICAN CONVENT AS
he continued, " to distort and misrepresent the
Church. Since it burst forth like an impure
stream from the corrupt hearts of the so-caUed
Reformers, it has lived on calumny and misre¬
presentation. Truth would not answer its pur¬
poses, therefore it has had recourse to slander,
in all its contests with the Church
But this huge swindle on men's minds is begin¬
ning to be exploded."* After much more to the
same effect, he added, with dramatic gesture,
" But, perchance, while I have been instructing
my own little tlock in Catholic truths, I have
unconsciously wounded the feelings of some
Protestant child—the child, at least, of Protestant
parents. Par be such a desire from my heart.
Our Blessed Lord said, ' Suffer the little children
to come unto me,' and so says the Holy Catholic
Church. You, my children, are, in reality,
Catholics; if your parents, through some unfor¬
tunate circumstances, have held the Protestant
doctrines, it is for you to lead them back to the
true Church; her arms are open to receive both
parents and children."
With this peroration, he closed. During the
delivery of the discourse, glances were some¬
times exchanged between the Protestant pupils.
Lucy, who was seated next to Marcia, laid her
*" Protestantism and Infidelity," by Wininger, p. 185.
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 51
hand gently upon lier, as she marked her rising
indignation, and observing, as they retired, that
she was about to give vent to her outraged sense
of truth, whispered, " Let us try to bear it, sister,
it is but for a little while."
The foregoing are a few of the occasions on
which the early training of our young Protes¬
tants came in conflict with the teaching and
manner of life in the Convent, and there were
many others. It is not to be supposed, however,
that such open and offensive attacks as those of
the lecturer, were often made upon their faith ;
nevertheless, unobserved, though effectual means,
all the more potent because not apprehended,
were constantly at work to throw discredit on
the Protestant religion, while " the Holy Mother
Church," was presented in colors most attractive
to their imaginations. They entered with zest
into many of the sports and amusements of the
school, and surely no places of education present
so many means for diversion and dissipation of
mind, as the Convents. The object of these
institutions being to educate for the Church,
proselyting becomes the main pursuit, to which
everything else is subservient: no art is unem¬
ployed, no effort remitted to render the Convent
an agreeable abode and a pleasant reminiscence.
To sprinkle themselves with holy water, to
52
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A8
kneel before the Host in pretended adoration, to
pray before figures of the Virgin, to cross them¬
selves at meals and at other times, observances
required of every pupil, were at first as distasteful
to our young friends as the Sunday amusements,
and as shocking to their moral sense, but like
them, were made tolerable by habit: being
practised in conformity to the discipline, in¬
dividual responsibility was lost; and though they
might think, or say to one another, " it is only
while we are here," yet they were surely prepar¬
ing their minds for the false and corrupt doctrine
which is always the accompaniment of super¬
stitious practices.
It happened that Marcia had brought with her
a small and beautifully bound copy of the Pil¬
grim's Progress, which she highly prized as the
last gift of her father. It was a tiny thing, and
chanced to be in her pocket when she arrived,
and so escaped confiscation: setting now a
double value upon it, she took care to use it
very privately, and generally carried it about
her person ; but being one day suddenly called
out, she thoughtlessly laid it down. The beauty
of the book attracted the attention of Nora
O'Reilly, who had noticed it before, in Marcia's
hand. She took it up to examine it, and opening
A SCHOOL EOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 53
it wliere Marcia's mark was, read the page with
indignation.
Fired with what she deemed a holy zeal, she
gave one look at the beautiful and unique bijou,
and then threw it on the blazing fire, where it
was being rapidly consumed, when Marcia
entered, excited by the recollection of having
left her treasure. A glance at the table, another
at the flushed, conscious-looking Nora, and a
third at the fire, revealed the truth, almost before
the question, " Who took my book?" was uttered.
Nora did not answer.
" Is that it ?" pointing to the smouldering
mass on the fire. A nod was the reply. " Who
put it there ?"
(i j »
" Did it belong to you?"
" No !" Marcia could have wept with grief for
her little keepsake, but indignation made her
feel severe. She said not another word, but
when the girls were assembled for study in the
evening, she asked Sister Celestine, who presided,
if she " did not consider it a breach of the eighth
commandment, or, as it is called here, the seventh
commandment, to take the property of another
person, without their knowledge, and burn it."
" Certainly," answered the Sister.
" One of the girls has taken a book of mine,
54 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
and burned it—a book I valued much, as tbe
gift of my father."
" Indeed—who has done this?"
" Nora O'Reillysaid Marcia, hesitatingly,
almost regretting having made so grave a charge
against a schoolmate, even though she deserved
it.
" Nora O'Reilly!" called the teacher.
" It was a book full of slander on the Pope,"
exclaimed Nora.
" That alters the case ; we allow no heretical
books in the Convent."
" Indeed it is a good book," replied Marcia,
" and the page Nora happened on, is I believe
the only place in which the Pope is mentioned."
" If it contained anything discreditable to the
Holy Father, the book was heretical," said the
Sister, crossing herself.
"And Nora was right?" interrogated Marcia.
" Nora should have taken it to Sister Yiatica."
" Thank you," said Marcia, coolly. " I only
wanted to know about the eighth commandment."
On another occasion, Sister Anastasia was
edifying a number of girls with arguments and
anecdotes to prove the reality of the change cf
the bread into the body of Christ, in the
Eucharist. The last was that of a woman who
doubted the change, and who, to satisfy herself,
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 55
contrived to slip the wafer into her hand and
carry it away ; when, on opening the hand, lo !
there was a piece of flesh !
" Well," remarked Marcia, demurely, her
credulity having been largely drawn upon, " I
should not have believed that if I had seen it
myself, but if you say it is true, Sister Anastasia,
I suppose it is not to be questioned." Sister
Anastasia was called away, but the girls pursued
the theme, and after listening in silence awhile,
Marcia remarked, " Since you like anecdotes about
the sacraments so much, perhaps you would like
to hear one that I know."
" Yes, yes."
" My story is a difficult question in Roman
theology, and I am afraid none of you will be
able to solve it, for it has puzzled wiser heads."
" Let us hear it," cried several, " let us hear it."
"A priest* of your Church has said, that in
Spain, where he lived, it was customary in winter
to consecrate one great Host and many smaller
ones, twice a month ; but in summer, on account
of the excessive heat, they consecrated every week ;
and yet, although they took this precaution, it
often corrupted, putrefied, and produced worms,
as he had himself many times witnessed. If
* D'Antonio Gavin, who abjured the doctrines of the
Itorcish Church.
5G
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
then Christ is in the Host, with his body, soul,
and divinity, how comes it that that Host which
you say is Christ, sometimes corrupts, &c. ? The
Bible says, ' Christ shall never see corruption'—
and again, are the worms a part of Christ ? "Who
can tell?"
There was silence for a few moments. " I don't
believe it," said one; "it could not become cor¬
rupt if it were Christ."
" I think not," remarked Marcia.
Marcia was not popular. Many were the
occasions on which she stood forth to rebuke,
sometimes jestingly, sometimes gravely, the
usages she knew or fancied to be wrong; and
her really kind disposition, and her desire to
please, scarcely saved her from being disliked,
while her spirit of witty sarcasm was stimulated
by the system of perpetual espionage practised
over the girls. Whenever Bomanism and Protes¬
tantism were discussed among the girls, she
had been the champion for the latter, and her
retentive memory and ready tact, supported by
the truth, had invariably brought her out victor
in these little encounters. She sometimes even
ventured an indirect thrust, as we have seen, at
some of the Sisters, and she was doubtless marked
as a girl whom it would be well to silence.
Looking with contempt oit the superstitious
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 57
forms she continually witnessed, she yet became
interested in many of those who took part in
them, and she sighed to think of the darkness in
which they groped. Had any one suggested, at
this time, that she should ever become a Ro¬
manist, she would have exclaimed with indigna¬
tion, " Is thy servant a dog, that he should do
this thing?" But human nature, unsupported
by grace, is wholly impotent to resist error.
CHAPTER IV.
"Proudly secure, yet\ liab.e to tail
By weakest subtleties."'—Mxlton.
Notwithstanding the favorable impression
made by the Superior on the mind of Mrs.
Chamberlain, in their interview, she was still
troubled by many apprehensions. Mr. Chamber-
lam had not been so much pleased on that occa¬
sion ; on the contrary, fears were aroused in his
mind, which he had not before felt, and he
resolved to expedite his business to the utmost
and remove his children from influences under
which he regretted having placed them. His
convictions of the danger of these influences
were constantly strengthened, as he witnessed
the infidelity and debasing superstitions which
pervade all classes of society in the countries in
which they were now sojourning, both of which
evils he recognized as the legitimate fruits of
Romish institutions; and when Mrs. Chamber-
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
59
lain proposed to write to an old schoolmate who
resided in W , near St. Margaret's, re¬
questing her to visit their daughters, and take
them to her house, where they might express
themselves freely, he readily concurred. A visit
from Mrs. Hams would have been far more
satisfactory, for both well knew her prudence and
discrimination, and they felt sure too, that if re¬
quested, she would not hesitate to make the visit
even at much inconvenience ; but Mr. Chamber¬
lain had been a little offended at her rebuke and
did not like now to ask her interference.
The letter was accordingly dispatched to Mrs.
Arnot, a lively and amiable woman, who soon
presented herself at the Convent, requesting to
see " the Misses Chamberlain." She would have
taken them home with her to remain the follow¬
ing day, which was Sunday, but the Superior
said it was against the rules for the pupils to be
absent on Sunday ; she gave permission, however,
for them to visit her on the following Thursday.
Mrs. Arnot thought this a bad arrangement,
as the Protestant pupils were thus debarred all
the religious privileges of their own Church ; but
the rules must of course be respected, and she
promised to call for the girls on Thursday morn¬
ing and briug them back on the next day.
With much satisfaction, Marcia and Lucy had
60
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
received tlieir visitor and her invitation; for it
was tlie first call they liad liad since their resi¬
dence in the Convent, and with lively anticipa
tions of enjoyment, they entered Mrs. Arnot's
carriage on the appointed day.
Marcia's humorous and graphic descriptions
of Convent life afforded much amusement to
their new friends, and suggested, afterwards,
graver reflections.
" The establishment is quite a model of neat¬
ness," remarked Mrs. Arnot. "I suppose the
pupils are taught excellent habits of order and
method."
The girls laughed. " Where no oxen are, the
crib is clean," said Marcia ; " we have nothing to
exercise us in that way save the clothes we have
on, and the books we study. I assure you we
have not seen our trunks since our arrival."
" Why, what has become of them ?"
" They keep them stored somewhere, and such
things as they consider necessary for us, we find
laid on our bed or hung on the chair that sets
beside it in the dormitory. I often sigh for
something whereon to exercise my ingenuity,
and I think the total absence of care occasions
much mischief; at Mrs. Hackley's, I know, the
boarders had some oversight of their clothes,
and it was very pleasant to them."
A SCHOOL LOIS I'liOTESTANX CHILDREN. 01
" But you may sew and embroider at the
Convent."
" 0 yes, embroidery is their forte. I think if
all the time spent in caricaturing Christ and the
apostles and the Virgin Mary, was spent in study,
they would send out better scholars."
"Father said we should have examples of fine
manners in the Sisters," said Lucy; " but really,
except the Superior, I don't think that any of
them can be said to have any maimers. I did
think she was splendid when I first came, but I
do not admire her now. They all keep their
eyes turned to the ground as if it were a sin to
look up at the sky and the trees and all the
glorious things God has made; and that gives
them an ugly underlook—but they can see every
thing around them."
" O, you have no idea of the vigilance exer¬
cised over the pupils," said Marcia, "especially
by the angels; but perhaps you do not know
what the angels are."
" Angels," answered Mr. Arnot gravely, " the
Bible says, are ministering spirits."
" Our angels are watching spirits; they watch
us by day, they watch us by night, in school and
out of school: they listen when we talk, and are
ever there to set right what they deem wrong;
after all, they are but human, and we often elude
6
62 THE AMEIilCAN CONVENT AS
tliein ; indeed the girls take pleasure in doing so,
if only for mischief."
" Do the angels nothing but watch
' O yes, they unite many other offices with
that; they are our chaperones when we go out."
" That is perhaps part of the office you men¬
tioned," remarked Mrs. Arnot. "I remember
Miss Sedgwick says that she could always decide,
when in Italy, on meeting a governess with her
pupils, what was their nationality, by the order
of procession. The English or American gover¬
ness walked in front of her pupils, while the
French or Italian, deeming it necessary her eye
should be unceasingly on her charge, took the
rear."
" I wish you could see Sister Yictorine," said
Marcia; " she is the most important of the angels,
and a curiosity in her way. I do not know
what father would say if he could see and hear
our model. She took several of us, by especial
invitation, to Mrs. Sharpe's, last week, and when
we arrived, that lady was standing at the gate
to receive us. ' How do you do, Sister Yicto¬
rine,' she said; ' walk in, young ladies.' ' No,
thank you,' answered Sister Yictorine, to our
astonishment, ' we were just walking out, not
going to visit any one.' ' O, do come in,' said
Mrs. Sharpe, smiling; ' why, Mother Cherubina
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 63
told me you would come.' ' Did slie ? O, well,
we will come in a few minutes.' And wlien we
were walking in the garden she kept saying,
' Don't trouble the flowers, girls,' and then to
Mrs. Sharpe, ' Young people have to be looked
after, you know,' just as if we were all thieves.
It would have been very mortifying if she had
not been so ridiculous; and Mrs. Sharpe did not
seem to attach any importance to her sugges¬
tions, but was very polite. As we went home,
she said with much self-complacency, ' You see,
girls, I made her believe it was just an accident
that Ave went there. That's the way to do in
society.' Helen turned scarlet, and said, ' But,
Sister Yictorine, it was not true.' "
"And what did she say?"
" ' O hush, you little darling, you don't know
any more about society than the Mother her¬
self. I go about: I know,'—with a comical jerk
that threw her large bonnet out of its place."
" I don't think you seem in much danger of
becoming a devout Romanist, Marcia," suggested
Mr. Arnot.
" I hope not," she answered; " why, you
cannot imagine the groveling puerilities which
the Sisters believe and practise. Here," she
continued, drawing a small picture of the Yirgin
horn her bosom, "is a charm, which Sister
64 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
Angelica gave me to preserve me from evil during
my absence."
" Tou must have had a little faith," rejoined
the gentleman, " to induce you to place it there."
" There is the faith I have in it," she exclaimed,
dashing it to the floor, and placing her foot
upon it.
The act and the passionate manner which
accompanied it, startled Mr. and Mrs. Arnot,
and the latter said, " I do not worship the
Virgin, but she was pronounced blessed among
women, and although her name has been abused
to 'sanction idolatry and superstition, we must
honor her as the mother of our Lord Jesus
Christ."
" Certainly, I do so honor her," replied Marcia,
" but these pictures are made for the very
idolatrous and superstitious practices of which
you speak, and we see them constantly so used
in the Convent. Only think of Sister Angelica,
otherwise a sensible woman, believing that a scrap
of paper with a daub of paint on it could keep
me from harm. It seems so heathenish."
" It would have been better to tell the Sister
you did not believe in charms, and decline to
take it," said Mrs. Arnot.
" Perhaps so," said Marcia, remembering ii
A SCHOOL FOli ?liOTESTANT CHILDREN. Of)
was the fear of offending Sister Angelica which
had prevented her so doing.
" I think we may report to your mother she
may make herself easy on the score of prose¬
lyting," said Mr. Arnot.
" I believe it will not be long before they make
one proselyte," said Lucy.
" Who is that ?"
" Helen Burton. She was always a very
religious girl, and I am sure they are trying to
make a Romanist of her, and a nun too."
" Poor child!" said Mrs. Arnot, " but one could
expect nothing else than that she should become
a Roman Catholic. I always thought it very
strange of Judge Burton to send his daughter
there, and she so young, too."
" O," said Marcia, " Judge Burton is half a
Romanist himself."
" His wife," rejoined Mrs. Arnot, " I well
remember as the loveliest, the most spiritually-
minded woman I ever knew. How grieved she
would have been to know that her child would
be so trained."
" And Helen is lovely too; so good, so amiable!
It is a shame to make a nun of her!" said Lucy.
" How do you know they will ?" asked Marcia.
" O, don't you see how much the Sisters
make of her ? Sister Catherine pets her so much,
66 THE AMEMCAN CONVENT AS
and Sister this one must have her here, and
Sister that one wants her to help her to make
the wafers, and they try to make her do just as
they do. If the girls did not love Helen so much
there would be a great cry of partiality. She
has a large fortune, independent of her father."
" The greater pity for that! They, of course,
think they are doing the best for her; but that
will not make up to her for the loss of the pure
faith bequeathed to her by her mother."
The Convent with its peculiarities was not the
only subject of conversation. Many other topics
of interest to the visitors made the hours pass
pleasantly, and Marcia and Lucy thought, when
they retired, that the day had been the shortest
of the session.
Mrs. Arnot returned with them to the Convent
on the following day, and said to the Superior,
" I would like to have the girls come often to
visit me."
" Hot often," smilingly replied the lady ; " we
find these visits break sadly on the routine of
study."
" But if you would permit them to come on
Saturday and return on Monday morning, it
would not interrupt their studies."
" Qui' rules are otherwise."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 67
" Then, some Thursday I shall call again for
Shorn," and Mrs. Arnot departed.
The visit made a pleasant episode, breaking,
as it did, the monotony cf their daily life.
A tedious illness and unforeseen domestic
circumstances prevented Mrs. Arnot from carry¬
ing out her intention of having them with her
again very soon. She did not however fail to
write to Mrs. Chamberlain a full and encouraging
account of her daughters, detailing several
incidents as indicative of their safety from the
dangers she apprehended.
" We might have known it," said Mr. Cham¬
berlain, laying down the letter with a feeling of
relief. "Marcia is not the girl to be taken in by
sucli stuff. I'll warrant she will be sounder
in the faith from contact with their super¬
stitions."
" Mrs. Arnot does not say so much about
Lucy," remarked Mrs. Chamberlain.
" Marcia will keep her right."
" I hope so, O, I do hope it will all turn out
right," ejaculated the mother, "but I shall
never leave my children again. It is a fearful
thing, Mr. Chamberlain, for parents to trust their
children to strangers. I thought so the other
day when I saw that poor young creature taking
the veil. They said she was English, too; I
? <
68 THE AMEBICAN CONVENT AS
■wondered how she came there, and thought of
our own dear ones. It is a comfort that Marcia
is a girl of such strong, good sense."
A bit too self-reliant," remarked Mr. Cham
berlain, biting his lip ; " that is her danger. That
affair of the picture is just like her, so enthusi¬
astic in her convictions. It is well she was
taught the truth; error in Marcia would be
dreadful, as Mrs. Harris said. But all is well, you
see, dear, and I have great hope of being able
to start homeward before midsummer. We must,
meantime, content ourselves, and trust our
children to God."
" O, that is what troubles me. I sometimes
feel that if we had really trusted them to God, we
should not have left them at the Convent. I never
realized so fully the responsibilities of parents
as I have done lately."
" No doubt, my dear ; I have had much serious
thought myself of late, but now, having such
good accounts of the girls, we must be thankful
and hope for the best."
Happy indeed those parents who have really
committed their children, in faith, to God!
Though separated by time and distance, they
have the sweet assurance that He who keepeth
their jewels, neither slumbers nor sleeps ; that
Instead of their own feeble and erring support,
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 69
the Everlasting Arms are under them, and thai
it is their Father's good pleasure to pour upon
the children of his servants his choicest bless¬
ings. But how presumptuous in such as slight
His commands to expect the benefits of His
promises! While Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain
were solacing themselves with the thought of
their daughters' cleverness and the brevity of
their exposure to danger, those who had them
in charge, " wise in their generation," were dili¬
gently improving that short time to secure such
influence over their pupils as might lay the
foundation for ulterior designs.
" What do you think of the history lesson to¬
day, Marcia.?" asked Martha Lawrence, as she
joined a group of her Protestant schoolmates,
a few days after the visit to Mrs. Arnot.
" I think," was the reply, " that it is so false
and scandalous that I cannot recite it. It is
shameful to misrepresent history as it is done in
this book. It is impossible to recognize Luther
in the hypocritical, violent fanatic pictured here.'
" I should not like to say these things either,'
remarked Grace, " particularly about Luther, foi
I do not believe them."
•" As you please, young ladies," exclaimed
Frances Whittingham. " I see I shall take the
head of the class, for I shall say it all. I don't
70
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
believe it; but it is our lesson, and what matter
a few words ? Cousin Ida comes next, and she
believes it all and more too, for sbe bas been
bere tbree years; so you will go down rapidly if
you stand on sucb scruples."
Marcia looked vexed; sbe generally main¬
tained tbe first place in tbe class.
" Let us ask Sister Angelica to excuse us to¬
day," suggested Grace. " I don't tbink sbe ongbt
to require us Protestants to recite tbis."
" O yes, sbe surely will not refuse," answered
Marcia, " and tbe girls cannot object."
As soon as Sister Angelica ' bad taken ber
place to bear tbe history, Marcia and Grace
approached, and hesitatingly proffered their
request, in behalf of several other Protestant
pupils, as well as themselves. Sister Angelica
looked at them in surprise, and after a full ex¬
planation of their difficulty, said coldly, sbe was
" not aware there was any other account of tbe
matter, worthy of credit; ber business was
simply to bear tbe lesson; sbe was astonished
at sucb a request from two of ber best scholars ;
it seemed bke wishing to shirk their studies."
Marcia and Grace, disappointed and mortified,
retired to tbe class which was already assembling.
To Marcia, ever willing to labor for tbe appro¬
bation of ber teachers ami for pre-eminence in
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. ?1
study, the nun's words were especially cutting.
It seemed hard to sacrifice both place and
credit for a few paragraphs of history. Me¬
chanically she took her accustomed place.
" The book, Miss Chamberlain."
As she placed it in the teacher's hand, an
approving smile only increased the conflict.
Sister Angelica had always been her favorite
among the teachers, and was, she thought, the
most intelligent of them; it seemed disrespectful
to make a difficulty about such a trifle, and in a
tumult of contending emotions she made the
required recitations. "Whether it was Marcia's
example or the effect of their own reasoning,
after some little excitement, every girl was found
in her place except Grace, who had seated her¬
self at the foot of the class, and when a question
was put to her, said, " She had not studied that
part of the lesson." The teacher looked dis¬
pleased, passed it to the head, where it was
answered by Marcia, though with confusion, and
so the lesson proceeded, from which was carefully
excluded, of course, in the narrative of the
Reformation, every Protestant idea; the whole
affair of Protestantism being treated as a foul
excrescence on the fair surface of the Church.
Marcia, however, was ill-satisfied with herself,
the more so, as Grace's sacrifice of place to
72
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
principle seemed a tacit reproach to her; and she
sought, in the afternoon, to justify to her her
conduct by all the sophistries with which she
had essayed to quiet her own conscience.
" I shall tell Sister Angelica that I do not be¬
lieve these things—that I merely recite them
because they are our lesson ; and our parents,"
she continued, " must have wished us to learn
such lessons as should be given us, or they would
not have placed us here."
" I can appreciate your difficulty," answered
Grace, " but as I am not ambitious, the sacrifice
of place is not so much to me as it would be to
you.
" Tou are a queer girl," said her companion ;
" you study your lessons well, yet seem not to
value your rank in the class."
" It is one of my idiosyncracies," answered
Grace, laughing, " to value the substance more
than the sign."
" It is very vexatious," rejoined Mareia, think¬
ing of recitations yet to be made. ""W ill you recite
to-morrow ?"
" Not if this subject is continued. Sister
Angelica can but keep me in, and I don't think
she will venture to do that."
Marcia secretly wished she had put herself
out of temptation also, but ii was too late ; she
A SCHOOL FOR FROTESTANT CHILDREN. 73
preferred to lead rather than to follow ; besides,
the place for which she had made a sacrifice,
seemed more valuable than before. She was
saved the embarrassment of seeking an interview
with Sister Angelica, for the nun, soon after
school was dismissed, joined her and Lucy, and
after some pleasant remarks, proposed a walk in
the garden.
The garden, large and well ordered, was one
of the most attractive features of the Convent,
particularly to Lucy, who was an enthusiastic
admirer of flowers, as well as of all the beauties
of nature; and when the Superior pointed it out
to Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, and expatiated on
the advantage of the pupils in having so delight¬
ful a retreat, she anticipated many happy hours
amidst its shady and fragrant walks. Propor-
tionably great was her disappointment to learn,
soon after, that the girls were not often permit¬
ted to enter that garden, and when they did so,
only under the supervision, as at all other times,
of the nuns. Often she had cast wistful glances
towards this delectable spot from the window of
a hall through which she sometimes passed, and
it was with unfeigned pleasirre that both Marcia
and she accepted the Sister's invitation. The
gay blossoms of summer were faded and gone ;
the scantier and hardier flowers of autumn
* 7
74
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
were fast disappearing, but tlie brilliant and
many-colored dahlias, the rich scarlet salvia, th°
delicately formed fuchsias, and the fragrant gera¬
niums, which still lent their charms to the
garden, with the varied and gorgeous colors
of the foliage, drew forth many "expressions
of admiration from the city-accustomed sis¬
ters.
Abandoning herself to the delight of the
moment, Lucy left her more sedate companions
and penetrated the less cultivated parts, making
many wonderful discoveries, and gathering, with
the nun's permission, several flowers on which to
exercise her skill in analyzing, for at Mrs. Hack-
ley's, she had made some proficiency in the
study of botany. Sister Angelica smiled at her
enthusiasm, and was evidently much gratified at
having given them an enjoyment which each, in
her own way, seemed to appreciate so highly.
"Wasn't it delightful?" asked Lucy, when the
sisters were alone. " I do not know how you
could just walk along and talk all the time ; and
whenever I came near you, I heard ' the Church,
the Church!' I suppose Sister Angelica gave
you quite a lecture."
" O no, her conversation was very pleasant,
but she said some strange things too."
" What were they ?"
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 75
" One was, that Protestant ministers cannot
be saved, because they read the Bible, and
know that they are misleading the people."
" And what did you say ?"
" I had answered back so many things, and
she seemed to mean so kindly in all she said,
that I said nothing to this."
" Does she think any Protestant can be saved ?
Sister Celestine does not."
" Sister Angelica says she thinks it possible, if
they have no opportunity to learn the true religion,
as she calls it, and if they do not oppose them¬
selves to it."
" That last was for you, sister."
" Perhaps so."
The invitation to the garden was frequently
repeated; sometimes Helen and Grace accom¬
panied them, but Marcia continued the chosen
and favored companion of Sister Angelica.
" I do not enjoy the garden any longer, sister,"
said Lucy, one day, " it makes me feel uneasy to
hear you talk so much to Sister Angelica about
religion. They promised father and mother, you
know, not to influence us in that."
" Pshaw, child! mind your own affairs, and T
will take care of mine. Sister Angelica says she
has no intention of influencing me in the least,
in what she says; that I must judge for myself;
76
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
and I am sure she is as hind as she can be, both
to jou and me. It is not likely she means us
any harm."
" I shall not go any more to the garden, at all
events, and I wish you would not, sister. Won't
you promise ?"
'' I promise nothing."
CHAPTER V.
" Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not
be burned?"
Although Grace had shown much wayward¬
ness in leaving Mrs. Hackley, she, as well as
Mary, was sincerely attached to that excellent
friend. Since their earliest school-days they had
been her pupils, and it was doubtless owing to
her wise discipline that they were not more in¬
jured by the unlimited indulgence they received
at home.
Mrs. Hackley was no ordinary character;
thrown by Providence, early in life, from a
position of affluence to one of dependence on her
own exertions for her maintenance, she turned
naturally to the vocation for which her endow¬
ments seemed peculiarly to fit her, that of di¬
stracting and training the young. To intellectual
gifts of a high order, she added all the acquire-
78
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
ments of a well-directed and elaborate education.
Reared in polished society, lrer refined and
unobtrusive manners captivated and controlled ;
but to these qualifications was joined yet one,
without which none are properly prepared to
deal with the young. She possessed a deep,
earnest religious failh; a faith which, early
imbibed, had sustained her through trials and
bereavements which might have crushed one who
leant not on Him who is able alike to uphold in
the deep waters and to shield in the fiery trial,
and which had brought her out of all, purified,
sanctified, and meet for the Master's work.
Having given back to God the children He
had lent her, the tenderness of her mother's heart
went out in all its fulness to those committed to
her care ; and while her gentle dignity secured
their reverence and obedience, her rare dis¬
crimination and cheerful temperament won their
love and confidence, so that she was regarded
among her pupils not only as the wise mentor,
but as the confidential friend. For many years
she had kept " the even tenor of her way," send¬
ing out at the close of each term some who had
learned from her lessons of wisdom to guide them
in the untrod paths of life. Mrs. Hackley toiled
and scattered the precious seed widely, but God
alone could give the increase.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 79
We have, in our land, many such men and
women of high attainments, of loving, trusting
hearts, seeking not only to cultivate the minds
of our youth, but to lead them in the way of
truth; and alas! that parents should be so
infatuated as to commit then- children to those
of whose lives they know, and can know nothing
more than they choose to exhibit, and of whose
principles they do not affect to approve!
Grace had excused herself from taking leave
of Mrs. Hackley on the plea of want of time, and
Mary was mortified and grieved to be obliged
to communicate her departure. The profound
sadness which overspread her teacher's face on
hearing it, struck Mary's heart: she marked the
tear that started, but did not fall, and she felt
drawn to her even more closely than before.
It is not to be supposed that Mrs. Hackley's
career as a teacher had been free from trial
(though marked by much success), any more
than her earlier fife. Ingratitude, it has been
said, is a sin of so heinous a nature that none
plead guilty to it; but ingratitude is the sin of
humanity, and peculiarly of youth. Parents
meet ingratitude from their children, and shall
others complain if they receive the same evil
requital? Mrs. Hackley had long since learned
a lesson invaluable to those who labor for others •
80
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
not to place lier motive in tlie affections and
gratitude of those she sought to benefit. She
gave her labor of love simply as " an offering,
acceptable to God, through Christ Jesus." When
disappointments came, she grieved less for her¬
self than for those who caused them.
The child Helen had been to her a precious
charge. She had loved the mother, and she
knew it was her desire that her daughter should
be brought up under her care : nor had Judge
Burton any other wish, until seized with the
sudden whim of putting her in the Convent. He
was a man of upright and honorable principles,
but full of whims and fancies, which he often put
into practice to his own great detriment. Helen,
inheriting her mother's delicate and refined
physical and mental organization, shrinking from
contact with the roughnesses of the world,
eminently conscientious and devout, found her
happiness more in the love of those around
her than in any outward circumstances. The
death of her mother had fallen so heavily on her
young heart that the physicians deemed change
of scene and climate necessary to restore her
health and spirits, and Judge Burton hastened,
with painful apprehensions, to try the efficacy,
first of the balmy tropical "'breezes, and then of
the more invigorating air of the mountains of
A SCHOOL FOR I-ROTESTANT CHILDREN. 81
Switzerland. The diversion was not without
good effect; for when they returned, at the end
of a year, her delicate cheeks were suffused with
the ruddy glow of health ; and although tender-
est memories of her mother still filled her heart,
she entered with buoyancy into such pursuits as
were congenial to her nature.
With a quick apprehension and retentive
memory, she had made fair progress in her
studies, and it was with poignant grief that Mrs.
Hackley heard of Judge Burton's determination
on their return. She could not but foresee the
almost certain result of subjecting a young girl
of her character to such influences, but she did
not cease to bring the child who had filled so
large a space in her heart, often as she was wont,
before Him who can keep the feeblest of his
lambs. When, three years after, she learned
thai Mr. Chamberlain had sent his daughters to
the same place, she was not so surprised. She
understood the system of false economy which
led him, while indulging his family in all the
elegancies of life, to endanger the welfare of his
children for a paltry consideration, and she would
gladly have made a pecuniary sacrifice to pre¬
vent such a course, had she known of his inten¬
tions ; but Mr. Chamberlain was too proud a
82
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
man to receive that as a favor for which he
knew he ought to pay.
When Mary's hesitating communication in¬
formed her of Grace's departure, her heart, for
an instant, sank : it seemed as if she was labor¬
ing in vain; but turning with strong effort from
these discouraging circumstances, she sought
earnestly to be enabled to walk more by faith,
leaving the event in His hands " who worketh
after the counsel of His own will."
Deprived of the companionship of her sister,
Mary returned with renewed zeal to her studies,
and engrossed by the occupations of school and
the society of her mother at home, the time
passed pleasantly and profitably, although
Grace's absence made a sad void in her heart as
in the household. Her letters, which were few,
were eagerly looked for, but never yielded the
satisfaction anticipated.
Hot long after Grace went to the Convent,
Mrs. Dabney having occasion to change her wait¬
ing-maid, the place was filled, on the recommen¬
dation of Mrs. O'Keilly the housekeeper, by a
pleasant looking Irish woman, and Mrs. Dabney
soon discovered that she had secured a treasure
in Bridget, who, indefatigable in business, also
possessed a wonderful talent for anticipating and
ministering to her mistress' wants, real and
A SCHOOL FOR PROTEST-ANT CHILDREN. 83
imaginary, a quality peculiarly agreeable to one
of Mrs. Dabney's inert yet amiable and unexact¬
ing disposition. Bridget was a Roman Catholic,
and so were the other domestics, with the ex¬
ception of John, the colored waiter, who with
the docility characteristic of his race, received
gratefully the occasional religious instruction of
" Missusbut with regard to the others, Mrs.
Dabney had latterly persuaded herself, that in
allowing them ample time for their religious
duties, she had performed her part; the responsi¬
bility of improving it resting with them.
It was not long after Bridget's advent, that
Mrs. Dabney found on sitting down to her morn¬
ing's reading, a neatly bound Roman missal on
her table. Bridget entering at the moment, she
handed it to her; " I think this must be yours,
Bridget."
"O, thank you, I had forgotten where I laid it."
Shortly after the book was again left in tho
_ same place. Surprised at Bridget's repeated
carelessness, so different from her usual habits
7 ^ 9
Mrs. Dabney yet opened it, and was reading
when Mary entered.
" What an ingenious mixture of truth and error
is here," she said, reading aloud, " so subtilely
blended that one cannot wonder that the un¬
wary are misled : even the earnest and sincere
84 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
can hardly gather a few crumbs of the gospel
from such a garbled and false exhibition of its
doctrines."
" And to such as this, dear Grace must so often
listen; O, mamma, I do wish this session was at
an end, and she safe at home again."
" I too shall be very glad," said Mrs. Dabney,
"but Grace Avas so very anxious to go, it was
perhaps best she should try it."
" What book is it?" asked Mary.
" It is Bridget's missal, and the second time I
have found it here within a few days."
The book was again returned to Bridget, but
without a reprimand, and shortly after Mary
found one of the same description placed on her
Bible, which it was her habit to read before re
tiring. It brought to mind the book left in her
mother's room, and with it came a painful
thought, as she remembered hearing a lady lately
tell her mother of a family perverted through
the devices of a Boman Catholic servant. It
wras said, to be sure, that they were very weak
people. Accustomed to responsibility, from her
mother's vacillating temper and Grace's thought¬
lessness, Mary had acquired habits of reflection
and decision beyond her years, and had learned
not to shrink from duty because it might be
painful. She did not presume to know Bridget's
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 85
motive, but could see no good reason why she
should so perseveringly seek to bring her books
to their notice; and when she came in shortly
after to render her usual services, after speaking
with the kind consideration which characterized
the intercourse of Mrs. Dabney and her daugh¬
ters with their domestics, she asked if this was
her book.
" La, Miss, and I believe it is mine," answered
Bridget, confusedly.
" Then you must keep it in your own room.
We are Protestants, Bridget, and read our own
Bibles and Pi*ayer-books. Please remember, for
it is best you should understand."
Bridget said nothing, but the incident was not
without good effect as regarded Mary, who was
relieved horn further interference, for Bridget
was shrewd enough to see that she had made a
mistake, and her zeal, guided perhaps by a more
discriminating mind than her own, sought other
means and another field of operation which gave
fairer promise of success. *****
It was not long after, that throwing open the
door of the library where Mrs. Dabney was
usually to be found in the morning, occupied
with visitors, reading or reclining on the sofa,
—for she was often an invalid—that Biidget
announced, " Father Davock, Mrs. Dabney
8
8G THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
and closed the door. For an instant, Mrs. Dab¬
ney was disagreeably surprised at the announce¬
ment and the apparition which accompanied it,
for she saw before her, as his name and attire
indicated, a Roman Catholic priest, an entire
stranger to her. Rising with stately politeness,
she requested him to be seated, but waring a
dissent, he proceeded to apologize for his intru¬
sion ; and if his keen eye had noted the momen¬
tary cloud which crossed that still beautiful face,
it was not betrayed in the perfect self-possession
of his manner. He had, he said, " just returned
from the Convent of , where he had seen Miss
Dabney, from whom he had brought a letter
which he had thought best to deliver personally."
Urged now by Mrs. Dabney, whose interest
was instantly awakened by the mention of her
daughter, he seated himself, and the mother
listened eagerly to the few but flattering details
he gave, he being the first person she had seen
^ with news from Grace since she left home. He
" should go again, in a few days," he said, " to
the Convent, and would be happy to take a letter
or parcel, should she have such to sendand
Mrs. Dabney gladly availed herself of so direct
a communication with Grace. The compliments
of the day being made, with a few pleasant re¬
marks, the priest departed.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 87
His -visit had been so brief, and Mrs. Dabney's
mind so occupied with her daughter, that it was
not until the letter was read, that she recurred
to the person who delivered it. The character¬
istic which noio came most vividly before her,
was the restlessness of his keen blue eyes, con¬
trasting strongly with the bonhomie expression of
his full Celtic mouth, with which the masses of
dark brown hair falling over his shoulders better
accorded. The long frock coat enveloped a
figure in no way remarkable.
The letter was called for at the promised time,
and Father Davock again stopped a few minutes
that he might the better assure Miss Dabney of
her mother's welfare. In the succeeding weeks
and months, his visits became more and more
frequent, short, and based as at first on some
slight business connected with Grace, but after
awhile gradually dropping that character and be¬
coming longer and more personal. Lively and
entertaining, Mrs. Dabney could not consider his
witty innuendoes as attacks on her faith, so
insidious, so flattering was his manner. In the
sparkling draught, she detected not the poison¬
ous dregs. Although well instructed in doctrine,
she was averse alike by temperament and habit
to controversy, and often let pass insinuations
she knew to be false, insinuations which, recur-
88
THE AME1UCAN CONVENT AS
ring to lier mind -when alone, gave her pain;
yet she did not realize that unopposed by the
weapons of our spiritual warfare, the sword of
the Spirit which is the word of God, and prayer,
they were most surely undermining the citadel
of her faith.
Bridget, ever diligent, had often assumed, of
late, the duty of answering the door-bell, an
encroachment on the department of John in
which his indolent habits led him readily to ac¬
quiesce ; and had Mrs. Dabney been very obser¬
vant, she would have remarked that Bather
Dawock's visits were seldom interrupted by the
announcement of other visitors. They were also
made in the morning, so that Mary had never
yet met him. Mrs. Dabney had spoken some¬
times of him, but generally in connection with
news from Grace ; and Mary, always anxious to
hear from her sister, concluded those priestly
visits were inseparable from her residence in the
Convent. Lately Mrs. Dabney seldom men¬
tioned him, feeling doubtless a latent appre¬
hension that Mary would not approve his
frequent calls, and willing, contrary to her
hitherto candid and upright character, that her
daughter should remain in ignorance on the
subject.
The time came, however, when brilliant sallies
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 89
were to give place to bolder tactics; when play¬
ful repartee was to be succeeded by earnest
appeals and dogmatic statements. Several works
of fiction,, setting forth the antiquity, beauty and
perfection of the Romish Church, had been
brought for Mrs. Dabney's perusal, and Father
Davock had not failed to observe their effects on
her imaginative mind.
" You are dissatisfied with your faith, my dear
lady," said he, one morning, after some lighter
conversation, " and it is not surprising that one
of your superior mind should be unable to find
happiness in Protestantism, which is essentially
a religion of doubt and despair."
" I dissatisfied with my faith!" exclaimed
Mrs. Dabney, looking up in alarm, " I never said
so, I am sure."
" True, madam, you have not said so; a heart
so noble and candid as yours needs not words
to interpret its feelings and aspirations. You
desire peace and security, and your religion, the
religion in which you have been brought up,
gives you only doubt and apprehension: you
want assurance, and it gives you only fear. It
is, you acknowledge, of infinite importance for
you to know that you are in the true Church,
whether you have or have not the only safe
religion. How are you to know this ? I would
90
THE AHF.IU CAN CONVENT AS
fain lead you to tlie only authority which can
solve this momentous question, the Holy Catholic
Church ! In her you have a guide to which you
may entrust your soul with the same security as
to Christ himself. In her, then, I entreat you to
take refuge, where alone you can find peace and
safety."
Mrs. Dabney became nervous : she was a weak
woman, and the unexpected turn of the discourse,
with the impetuosity of her companion, threw
her off her guard, and when he ceased speaking,
her thoughts were too confused to answer.
" Was she, indeed, yearning for a higher and
holier faith than she had yet known, and was
that faith one she had been taught to suspect,
fear, aye even to deem apostate ? Could this
priest be other than sincere ? He seemed
learned and earnest; he could have only her
interest at heart in speaking thus."
Such thoughts rushed hurriedly through her
mind, while the priest continued, "Protestants
are reared in such very erroneous and preju¬
diced views of the Catholic Church, that it is no
wonder they fear it: but you, my dear lady, are,
I am persuaded, too intelligent and ingenuous to
let a vulgar prejudice withhold you from embrac¬
ing the truth when presented to you."
" If my becoming a Catholic is to be the test
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN.
91
ol euy cleverness, I fear I shall forfeit your good
opinion," replied the lady, smiling.
" I have no fears of that, and desire only a fair
hearing," said the priest. "Why should you
not be a Catholic ? There must be, you know,
insurmountable objections to warrant you in
continuing in sciiiom. What do you object to
the Church ?"
Mrs. Dabney, thus thrown upon the defensive,
did not observe the unfair opening of her com¬
panion, in assuming his to be the true Church,
andhers in schism. She hesitated, feeling the
sophistry of his position without penetrating it,
said simply, " There are many things which you
have taught me to admire in your Church, but
it holds some doctrines and sanctions some
practices which would ever prevent me from
becoming a member."
" Will you name them ?" asked her self-con¬
stituted instructor.
" The doctrine of transubstantiation I consider
contrary to reason and Holy Scripture. For
confession, also, and the worship of the Virgin
Mary, we have no warrant."
The priest smiled.
" I must not expect to overcome the prejudices
of a life, in a day, but I think I can satisfy you
that you have imbibed erroneous ideas on these
92
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
points, and you cannot, at least, object to hearing
what we have to say on these mooted questions."
" Certainly not."
" Let us begin with the last, the blessed Virgin
Mary, the mother of God! Vou have been
taught, doubtless, that we worship her: it is an
unfounded calumny. We honor Mary, but the
Father, Son and Holy Ghost, we adore."
" I have heard that you have greater confidence
in her than in our Lord Jesus Christ; that you
believe that prayers made through her are
answered more readily than those offered through
Christ."
" This also is calumny. We hold that what¬
ever power Mary possesses with God is deiived
solely from the merits of Jesus Christ. Her
intercession has all its efficacy from Him and
through Him."
" But you believe her to be exempt from
original sin, and this has only lately been required
as an article of faith, I believe."
"We hold," without noticing the last remark,
" that Mary was exempt from original sin, because
it was not becoming that the Son of God should
be bom of one who had ever been subject to the
curse of sin and under the power of the arch¬
enemy of God. The doctrine is evidently in
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN.
93
accordance with reason."' I am sure you feel
that it is most proper for tliose who lionor the
Son to honor the mother also. As for confession,
that great bugbear of Protestants, I grieve to
think that prejudice should debar jou from so
great a consolation. Beflect: you have sinned—
you confess your sins, and receive a sure pledge
of divine pardon. Like the rainbow after the
deluge, the sacrament of penance is a sign and
pledge of reconciliation between God and the
penitent. By the sacrifice of penance sins are
truly forgiven. The confessor is the represen¬
tative of Christ, the friend, the guide, the father
and physician of the soul. Such is the doctrine
of the Holy Catholic Church, founded on the
words of Christ, ' Beceive ye the Holy Ghost;
whose sins ye remit, they are remitted, whose
sins ye retain, they are retained.' Words cannot
be more decisive. But, my dear lady," observing
that Mrs. Dabney looked flushed and excited,
" I fatigue you ; how can I hope to exhibit to
you, in one short interview, a tithe of our author¬
ities ? I happen to have with me a book treat¬
ing unanswerably on these subjects. It was
intended for a friend to whom I was going, but
I will leave it with you," taking from his pocket
4 Milner's End of Controversy,' and handing it to
* Wcuinger.
94
THE AMElilCAN CONVENT AS
Mrs. Dabney. " You will find it intensely in¬
teresting, and I am sure, convincing. I shall
call to hear your opinion of it; indeed I have
formed too high an estimate of your judgment
to doubt what it will be."
So saying he departed. Mrs. Dabney remained
some time musing rather than thinking. If she
had exerted her memory and summoned her
understanding, she could easily have refuted
every insinuation and assertion the priest had
made ; but accustomed to seek merely entertain¬
ment and excitement, effort had become laborious.
To the charge of doubt and despair charac¬
terizing her Chuieli, she might have answered,
that it is, of all others, a religion of certainty,
hope and peace, having for its foundation Truth,
for its surety the Word of God, and for its
reward the promises of God! Unlike the Ho¬
rn anist, who attempts to scale Heaven on the
ladder of good works, the believing Protestant
looks to the perfect righteousness of his Re¬
deemer, knowing that it is imputed unto him,
sinful though he be, and that, clothed in that
spotless robe, he will be presented faultless
before the throne of Glory. The Protestant,
coming in faith to the appointed consecrated
elements, receives " spiritually the most blessed
body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and is
A SCHOOL FOIi PROTESTANT CHILDREN.
95
assured that lie is a member incorporate of the
mystical body of Christ, which is the blessed
company of all faithful people while the poor
Romanist comes to a pretended miracle, in which,
by the mumbling of a few words by the priest, a
God is created, and then swallowed, body, soul
and divinity, and he departs, not knowing indeed
whether he has received a sacrament, for if the
priest had not the intention,'' it was no sacrament.
Surely the charge of doubt and despair might
well be cast back on the Romish Church.
She would have told him, as regards the
sacrament of Penance or Confession, the Pro¬
testant humbly confesses his sins to the Searcher
of hearts, and receives pardon from Him who
alone can bestow it; while the Roman Catholic
listens to the blasphemous mimickry of E<jo te
dlsolvo, from a priest assuming the prerogative of
God, while he can only hope he Intends to absolve
him, if he really has the power.
As concerns the Virgin Mary, she would have
answered, " The assertion ' We do not worship'
is entirely overborne by the facts of the case.
Her images are continually multiplying in the
churches; prayer in the church is addressed
more to her than to Christ. To elevate her as
an object of worship, a new dogma lias been
* See Catechism of the Council of Trent.
96
THE AMERICAN COM'EKT AS
added to the Boniisli creed within the last few
years: slie is said, by one of tlieir eminent
modern writers* to have " excited and impelled
her Son to his death, and so to have co-operated
for the salvation of the world." The Pope
Pins IX. in a late allocution to the Bishops, uses
this language : " For ye know very well that
the whole of our confidence is placed in the
most Blessed Virgin, since God has placed in
Mary the fulness of all good: that accordingly we
may know that if there is any hope in us, if any
grace, if any salvation, it redounds to us from
her, since such is His will, who hath willed that
tee shendd have everything through Mary."
In a translation of that popular Bomish book
of devotion, by St. Alplionsus de Liguori, " The
Glories of Mary," "approved and cordially re¬
commended," by Cardinal Wiseman, Archbishop
of Westminster, are found the following among
many other fearful and blasphemous expres¬
sions : " Mary is the only hope of sinners," p. 90.
" Go to Mary * * * our salvation is in her
hands. * * * He who is protected by Mary
will be saved ; he who is not will be lost," p. 136.
"No one is saved but through thee," (Mary,)
p. 135. " Mary so loved the world, as to give
her only begotten Son," p. 419. Let it be re
* Salzor.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 97
niembered that the works of Liguorihave passed
through all the processes of examination and
expurgation of which so much boast is made by
the authorities of the Romish Church; and that
he himself was found worthy of having his name
enrolled on the calendar of Saints. Accordingly
his canonization took place so lately as May 26,
1839. With such authorities, and a thousand
others which might be cited, it is of no effect to
say, " we do not worship Mary."
But, as has been remarked, Mrs. Dabney
made no vigorous effort to refute the statements
she felt and knew to be false: she sat musing
for a while, wondering how such a clever man
could be so misled; then taking up the book he
had left, she concluded she would look through
it, merely for politeness : it would commit her to
nothing, and then she would be done with the
whole matter, which she now felt to be burden¬
some. The book was read, and another and
another; she was yet unconvinced, but the Rev.
Father was unwearied in his endeavors to en¬
lighten her, and she finally consented to receive
a book of instruction. She was indeed com¬
mitted.
It is thus by false assertions and such senti¬
mental fallacies as those uttered by Father
Davock, that perverts to Romanism are made.
9
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
He whs but one of that class whom the Apostle
characterizes as those " who creep into houses
and lead captive silly women, laden with sins."
While Mrs. Dabney had been imbibing the
insidious teachings of an apostate Church, Mary
had been under different instruction. The fact
that several of her pupils had been brought so
unexpectedly under the teaching of a system she
considered pernicious and dangerous, caused
Mrs. Hacldey to realize more than ever her high
responsibility in the training of immortal souls,
and to redouble her efforts to lead those yet under
her charge, to the Source of all truth. By the
blessing of God on her endeavors during the win¬
ter, she had the satisfaction to see a number of
her pupils awakened to a lively interest in those
things which concerned their salvation. One
among them seemed peculiarly impressed.
Mary Dabney, ever the earnest, thoughtful cliild,
now merging into the bloom of womanhood, had
at the beginning of the session felt her greatest
sorrow in parting with her sister; and the sad¬
ness thus cast for a time over her spirit, seemed
a providential preparation for the reception of
the solemn truths so often and so afftctinglv s( t
before herself and companions by their faithful
preceptress. Conscientious and intelligent as
she was on the doctrines of Christianity, she had
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 99
never before made such a personal application
of them, never so realized her sinfulness and her
need of a Saviour. Little did those around know
of the conflict which for a time agitated that gen¬
tle, quiet girl as she diligently pursued her accus¬
tomed studies, and improved each leisure hour
for the study of the subject which had suddenly
assumed such importance in her eyes. The
trembling joy fulness with which she at length
felt herself to be a participator in the inestimable
blessings procured for believers through the
death of Christ; her earnest aspirations after
holiness, and the tender anxiety that yearned to
embrace all in the fulness of her happiness,
imparted a new charm to her intellectual features
and heightened the winning grace of her man¬
ner.
Winter was gone, and many of the pupils
desired that Mrs. Hackley should present them
in a class to the rector, as candidates for confir¬
mation at the approaching Easter.
" My dear young friends," said that lady,
having assembled them before her, "I need not
tell you the satisfaction it gives me to see so
many of you desiring to take upon yourselves
your baptismal vows, and enter on that course of
life which alone can bring you peace and happi¬
ness in the end: and I feel quite sure that the
? i
100 THE AMEKICAN CONTENT AS
parents of all of you will sliare in my satisfaction,
for they were all aware that you would receive
the best religious instruction of which I am
capable ; but I am not so sure that all will desire
that their children should enter the Episcopal
Church, for some of you have parents who are
in communion with other churches, and far be it
from me to sow the seeds of discord in any
family circle. For myself, you know that I am
an Episcopalian, and I have many reasons for
loving and preferring that Church above all
others; but in the instruction I have given you,
I have sought to inculcate the grand and vital
principles of religion rather than to enter into
the shades of less important difference between
the several orthodox Protestant denominations,
all of which I love and respect. My object has
been, I trust, more to win souls to Christ than to
multiply communicants for my own Church ; the
religious sympathies and associations of families
I deem too sacred to be lightly meddled with.
Let not one of you therefore proceed in this mat¬
ter without the full approbation of your parents;
' Honor thy father and thy mother,' rests on the
same divine authority as, ' Thou slialt love the
Lord thy God and those who put contempt on
the jfil, commandment will not be found to honor
the first. Regard then the approval and sym-
A SCHOOL FOK PKOTESTANT CHILDKEN. 101
pathy of your parents, even though it leads you
to delay or prevents you from entering the
Church of your present preference. Having
yielded this deference to them, you may have the
sweet assurance that no feeling of regret will
arise hereafter, to mar the recollection of the
most important act of your life, a consecration
of yourselves to God."
It was with feelings aroused by these and
other affecting remarks from Mrs. Hackley, that
Mary sought her mother on her return home.
Mrs. Dabney was not altogether ignorant of the
state of Mary's feelings, for accustomed as they
had been to mutual confidence, it had not entered
the daughter's mind to have a concealment from
her mother, and the first impulse of her loving
and. dutiful heart, on finding so much more
happiness than she had dreamed of, even in her
favored life, had been to impart it to her mother,
in the hope of awakening in her an interest on
a subject upon which she could not but feel she
was latterly painfully apathetic. With regard
to her own course, she did not apprehend the
slightest opposition, for Mrs. Dabney had said
nothing to indicate a change in her religious
views: she had continued to attend her own
church, except when she, pleaded indisposition,
which was frequent of late, and she had never
102
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
been to a Romish church on Sunday, but often,
very lately, she had been present during the
week, at the Mass and other services, and she
had sometimes heard a discourse from Father
Davock. She had however never mentioned
these excursions to Mary, trying to convince
herself they were unimportant. Imperceptibly,
an invisible barrier seemed growing up between
them, which Mary felt, but could not define.
Repeatedly she had come to tell her mother all
that was in her heart, hoping to bring back the
days of unrestrained confidence, but Mrs. Dabney
was always averse to listening. Some excuse was
ever ready; a gentle, "Not now, my love,"
" Don't talk of these things now, Mary; I will
hear you some other time," checked and made
her feel that her mother was changed, but why
she knew not.
The time had come, however, when she could
no longer delay, and stopping in her own room
to fortify herself by a few minutes of prayer, she
hastened to the library where she was sure to
find her mother at that hour, not permitting
herself to remember former repulses.
Mrs. Dabney was reclining on the sofa: an
open book lay beside her, which Mary did not
notice. She looked sad and dispirited. Mary
stooped and kissed her cheek.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 103
" Dear mamma, I am come to tell you some¬
thing : it is so pleasant, I am sure it will not
worry you."
" What is it, clear?"
" There is to be a class for confirmation from
Mrs. Haekley's school, and I wish to join it."
A cloud passed over Mrs. Dabney's face, but
Mary proceeded.
" I am sixteen, dear mamma, and is it not right
I should desire to ratify the vows made for me
in infancy ?"
" You are yet very young, my child, and
understand very little of these mysteries ; indeed,
I did not myself, until very lately : until," she
continued, nerving herself for an unusual effort,
" until Father Davock convinced me that we
have all been wrong, very wrong, Mary."
Mary, who had seated herself at her mother's
feet, looked up at her, aghast.
" What, mamma ?"
"Father Davock has convinced me that we
are in schism, and that it is our duty tr return
to the Holy Catholic Church."
" Oh mother, mother!" And Mar} buried her
face in her hands, to hide the tears that would
not be kept back. The happy trustfulness with
which she had entered the room but added
poignancy to the sorrow that crushed her.
104 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" Mary, my daughter, this is Father Davock."
Mary had not noticed the opening of the door ;
she raised her eyes, and there before her stood
the author of her misery. Involuntarily she
sprang to her feet. Her first impulse was to
quit the room : a glance from her'motlier checked
her, and she stood irresolute. Sorrow and in¬
dignation waged a fierce conflict in her heaving
bosom, and a brilliant flush glowed on her cheek.
The tall girl stood in the unconscious dignity
of womanhood, erect, almost defiant. The
priest, surprised for an instant, seemed in an¬
other to comprehend the scene ; he stepped for¬
ward, and taking the reluctant hand of the
stately maiden, pressed it reverentially to his lips,
and led her to a seat.
" Excuse my daughter," said Mrs. Dabney ;
" she had just heard some unwelcome intelli¬
gence when you entered."
The priest bowed.
" Mary has been expressing to me a desire for
confirmation, and your arrival seems opportune ;
you may perhaps persuade her to be confirmed
in the Catholic Church. I am, I confess, a poor
teacher myself."
"It will afford me infinite happiness," replied
the priest, fixing his keen eyes on Mary, " to
lead her to that Church of which she has been
A SCHOOL ICR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 105
reared in ignorance, and against winch, I fear,
she is much prejudiced."
" Mary is too honest and candid to reject the
truth, when convinced of it."
" My dear young friend," hegan the priest,
" permit me to speak to you of the doctrines of
the Church you appear so much to dislike."
" I would rather not."
" I would only"
" Spare me this, sir! Mamma, do you com¬
mand me to listen ?"
" My darling, I command nothing. I have
expressed my wishes."
" The wishes of a parent, Miss Dabney, how¬
ever gently expressed, have to a mind rightly
directed, the authority of a command."
Mary's head dropped upon her bosom. She
remembered Mrs. Hackley's words, and they had
more authority with her than those of the priest.
A deep, earnest, agonizing cry, unheard by
mortal ear, went up to God for help in a temp¬
tation she had neither sought nor anticipated.
She felt her utter helplessness, and cast herself
entirely on His promise to uphold. The calm
look which succeeded was mistaken by Mrs.
Dabney, and doubtless by the priest, for acquies¬
cence ; and the latter proceeded to expatiate on
the necessity and advantages of her returning to
106
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
the first Cliurcli—the Church established by
Christ on his apostle Peter.
Mary listened respectfully, and when he
paused, she said, tremulously at first, but gath¬
ering confidence as she proceeded, "I am
scarcely more than a child, and you, sir, are, I
believe a learned priest. It is most likely I shall
not be able to answer your arguments, but I know
that they have been satisfactorily answered, and
God is able to keep me. I was born and bap¬
tized in the Protestant Episcopal Church, and
have been instructed from the Bible and Prayer-
book all my life. I acknowledge I have never
valued my privileges as I ought; but lately my
heart has been more interested in these things,
and I have studied them more diligently, rest¬
ing my faith on the Word of God. Why should
you wish to disturb it?"
" Simply, my dear young friend, to lead you
to the true Church : that in which you trust,
being in schism, is no part of the Church of
Christ."
" I do not trust in the Church, but in Jesus
Christ. But as for the Protestant Episcopal
Church being in schism, it is for you to prove
that."
" It is a very simple thing," he replied, smi¬
lingly. " Christ's Church is one: you profess to
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 107
believe tliat: in your creed you--say you believe
in The Holy Catholic Church: now the Cliurcli of
Eome being that one holy apostolic Church, it is
plain that in separating from her your Church
is in schism."
" That," said Mary naively, " is what we call
at school, ' begging the questionyou have
assumed, but not proved that the Itoman is the
only true Church, or even that it is a part of the
true Church."
" For brevity's sahe I assumed it; to traverse
so wide a field of discussion would consume
much time. Your Bible, however, gives a plain
and unanswerable proof. Christ says to Peter,
" Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I build my
Church," <frc.
" I cannot see that that proves anything for the
Church of Borne, for you know it has never been
proved that Peter was ever even at Borne, and
those who have studied well that subject, ex¬
plain, you remember, that rock to be the
declaration which Peter had just made, that
Jesus was " Christ, the Son of the living God
and St. Paid confirms that interpretation, for he
says, ' Other foundation can no man lay than
that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.' Mrs. Hackley
has frequently explained this to us."
" You cite the Bible said the Bev. Father,
108
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
shifting his ground, as Jesuits are wont to do,
" but eighteen hundred years ago the canon of
Holy Scripture was closed, and the Protestant
Church scarcely reckons three hundred years.
If the Roman Church, which has kept the Bible,
be not the true Church, liow can you know that
you possess the Word of God?"
Mary was silent, while her priestly interrogator
regarded her with smiling self-complacency. She
was endeavoring to place in form some facts her
retentive memory supplied. The priest was about
to resume, when she said, " The same God who
caused the Holy Scriptures to be written for our
learning and salvation, has been able to preserve
them pure for us. The Old Testament, you know,
He caused to be kept by the Jews, although they
disregarded its teachings, the Samaritan and
Greek translations as well as several others prov¬
ing the genuineness of the text; and in the same
way He has used divisions among Christians as a
guard upon the New Testament. If any church
had dared to alter it, it would have been immedi¬
ately detected, because so many copies were made
in the very first ages of Christianity, before Borne
claimed to be the mistress of all the churches.
Many of the copies have never been in her pos¬
session. and our translation was made from the
original Greek, and not from the Latin Vulgate,
A SCHOOL FOE PEOTESTANT CHILDEEN.
although the translators were careful to compare
all the versions; so we are not dependent on
Home for the Bible."
" You have been diligent in learning error,"
my dear Miss Dabney. " You love this heresy
because you do not understand it. You are not
aware that Protestantism leads directly from
holiness. By undervaluing good works, it en¬
courages sin. It teaches that if a man have
faith, sin cannot hurt him. Luther, its great
originator, said, ' From God, sin cannot separate
us, were we to commit murder and a thousand
other mortal sins in a day. '* Is that your faith?"
Mary considered for a moment, and then
answered, " You see how much safer and easier
it is for me to rest my faith on the Word of God
than on that of man—on your word or Luther's.
I cannot say I believe that Luther ever uttered
such a sentiment; but whatever Luther was, and I
believe him to have been a holy, just, and brave
man, it cannot affect the faith of those who rest
on the word of Him who cannot lie ; and neither
the Bible nor our Church teaches any such
doctrine as that you cited."
" Do you imagine, my young friend, that you
are capable of understanding all Holy Scripture,
and drawing thence a religion for yourself?"
* Weninger.
10
110
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" I have attempted no sucli thing, sir, further
than studying the Word of God, and the in¬
structions of our Church, which say, ' Holy
Scripture containeth all things necessary to
salvation: so that whatsoever is not read therein,
nor may be proved thereby, is not required to be
believed as an article of faith, or to bo thought
necessary to salvation.' But surely I can easier
understand the Bible, a comparatively small book,
and in plain language, than I could arrive at any
certainty in the lloman Catholic religion : for to
understand that, intelligently, I should have to
study many hundred volumes."
" You greatly mistake there," replied the
priest; " no religion is so easily learned as the
Catholic. Christ said, ' He that heareth you,
heareth me,' &c.; which Avords he would not
wish to be understood with regard to those only
to whom they were addressed, but likewise to
all who by legitimate succession should discharge
the office of teaching ; promising to be with them
all days, even unto the consummation of the
world ;* thus you perceive that in receiving the
doctrine from, a priest of the Holy Catholic Church,
you may be as sure of hearing the truth as if
you received it from Christ himself."
" I do not see how you can object to the
* Catechism of the Council of Trent.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. Ill
teaching of Luther, then," said the straight¬
forward girl, " for that he had the legitimate
succession jou cannot deny, and by your own
autlioi ity he could not err."
Mrs. Dabney smiled. The priest frowned and
said, " We will speak of that lieieafter : mean¬
while, the Catholic Church alone has the true
marks of the Church of Christ, ' Antiquity,
Unity, Sanctity, and Indestructibility.' Your
Protestant Church has no martyrs worthy ol
mention, while the Catholic is rich in the holy
lives and suffering deaths of her saints. Behold
our noble Army of Martyrs! In the beginning
of the Church, in the first three centuries, seven¬
teen millions perished—our older brethren in the
faith, all sealing, with their blood, the same
Catholic faith which we profess."
" The noble Army of Martyrs of the first three
centuries!" exclaimed Mary, forgetting in the
excitement, her reserve, " surely they belong to
us Avho hold uncorrupted the great truths for
which they suffered. The first, St. Stephen, as
well as many others, suffered before the Church
of Borne was founded. That sublime passage,
' Behold I see the heavens opened, and the Son
of Man standing on the right hand of God,' first
taught me what enabled other martyrs to endure;
what sustained Cranmer, when he held in flames
112
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
tlie hand that had signed a recantation, and gave
strength to Latimer and Ridley to exhort each
other in the fire, and praise God. Doubtless
they too saw heaven opened, and Jesus waiting
to receive them."
The enthusiasm with which she spoke, seem¬
ing almost to forget the presence of the priest,
and the look of high resolve in her blue eyes,
marked her doubtless in his mind as one who in
the days of the Church's power might have been
a fit subject for discipline; or who now, being
won, might become a useful instrument to mould
more plastic natures.
" The devotion you feel for a false creed," he
said, "the ability, the diligence you have bestowed
in the study of its legends, had they been rightly
directed, my dear young Mend, in acquiring a
knowledge of the true religion, would have
earned for you, and may yet give you a high
place in that Holy Church which you now despise.
Look at our holy women ! What more glorious
example for an ardent and noble nature like
yours to follow, than the footsteps of those
devoted saints whose names shine as stars in the
firmament of the Church? Shall I name to you,
as worthy of emulation, St. Angela the foundress
of the holy order of the Ursulines, or St. Ursula
herself, still more distinguished, or that seraphic
A SCHOOL FOil PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 113
Saint, Catherine of Sienna, ' whose piety was,' as
St. Ambrose* says, ' beyond the strength of
nature' ? They gave themselves to God, and
not only worked out their own salvation, but
left, for the benefit of the Faithful, an immense
treasure of good works to be dispensed by the
Church."
" Mrs. Hackley often reminds us that the
Bible says, ' When we have done all, we are but
unprofitable servants.'"
"Nay, but"
Visitors were announced, and Mary gladly
availed herself of the opportunity to cut short
the conference. In her own chamber, a flood of
tears relieved her over-burdened heart, and she
gave thanks to Him who had heard and answered
her prayer; she did not forget to plead for her
mother, who was, she now feared, deeply en¬
tangled in the errors of popery. Anxiety chas¬
tened the thankfulness she felt on her own
account. Perhaps none but an obedient, loving
child, who has suffered such sorrow, can realize
her grief in feeling that her mother was no
longer a safe guide to her. The desolation drew
her nearer to God; a new responsibility sprang
up in her bosom, and the last few hours seemed
to have added the cares of as many years to her
life. Aware that she possessed much influence
* An anachronism for which the priest is answerable,
114
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
with her mother, she resolved to seek her, and if
possible, change her purpose.
Had it not been for Mary's communication
respecting the confirmation, Mrs. Dabney's
natural repugnance to anything disagreeable
would probably have caused her to defer still
longer a disclosure she could not but know would
be most unwelcome, although she had not
anticipated the intense pain it would give her
daughter; and as she looked on the silent,
weeping girl, always so dutiful and loving, a
feeling of regret at her precipitate and unadvised
course filled her mind ; but the entrance of the
priest changed the current of her thoughts, and
she called in his aid in her difficulty. Various,
however, were her emotions as she remained a
silent auditor of the interview. Though vexed
for an instant at Mary's manifest aversion to the
priest, yet all the fond pride of the mother had
been awakened at the unexpected metamorphosis
of the trembling girl into the dignified and self-
possessed woman. She listened with lively
interest and sympathy to her simple, yet firm
and consistent answers to his authoritative
statements, and had she been, at the conclusion,
called on for a decision, she might have drawn
back; but unfortunately, as we have seen, the
conference was brought to an abrupt termination.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 115
While Mary sought her chamber, the priest
remained until the visitors, admonished by his
presence, departed. He doubtless was fully
aware that he had arrived at a crisis in this in¬
teresting case. He could not but perceive that
the daughter's bearing and decision were far
from displeasing to the mother; but it was not
his part to leave to solitary reflection and family
discussion, so grave a matter as this. Mrs. Dab-
ney was a proselyte of too much importance not
to be secured at any cost. Her wealth, position,
and influence rendered it highly desirable to
attach her to the true Church. What if she did
not noio believe its doctrines ? There would be
time enough to convince her when secured.
When they were again alone, he gently ap¬
proached the subject, and passed the highest
encomiums on Mary. " Her talents," he said,
" were of no common order. He admired her
spirit; it was a noble, a catholic spirit: she had
uttered many truths in their conversation, but
she had misapplied their meaning; he could
very soon set her right, he did not doubt; indeed,
lie considered her already a Catholic."
He had acquired great ascendency over the
mind of Mrs. Dabney, and as she listened again
to his blandishments, she was persuaded he only
needed time to convince Mary, when she must
116
THE AMERICAN CONTENT.
for very consistency's sake unite herself to the
Roman Church. It was easier to repose for the
time on the sandy foundation devised by man,
than to plant her foot firmly upon the Rock of
Ages. The wily father insinuated also that her
other daughter was already with them in senti¬
ment. He however enjoined on Mrs. Dabney
absolute silence with Mary on the subject, nor
did he leave her until he had obtained her prom¬
ise to that effect, and had added such instruc¬
tions as he deemed the case required.
When Mary met her mother again, the lat¬
ter was suffering from a severe headache,
which necessarily precluded conversation, and
in the morning she was quite sick; when, obey¬
ing orders, she said to Mary before she left for
school, " Let us not speak of what has passed
now, my child, but do not join the confirmation
class at present."
CHAPTER VL
The intimacy between Sister Angelica and
Marcia, which received so signal an impetus
from the history recitation before mentioned, was,
much to Lucy's annoyance, vigorously cultivated
by the nun. Many were the occasions she im¬
proved to distinguish her young and ambitious
protegee: and when, soon after, Eather Mayhew,
the priest most regular in attendance at the
Convent, visited the school, she introduced her
to his notice with many commendations, as her
best history scholar.
"And this too," said the priest, laughingly,
" is the young Doctor of Theology!"
Marcia blushed, and said she was a Protes¬
tant.
" O well, you must tell me what you think of
us some day. Who knows," lowering his voice,
" but you may make a Protestant of me, eh ?"
118 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
This priest, a man of about forty-five or fifty,
was in appearance a fair specimen of a monkish
boii-vivant. If lie was earnest in commanding
abstinence and discipline to those under his
spiritual charge, his corpulent, rotund figure and
sleek face gave no indication that his own days
and nights were spent in acts of mortification.
His good-nature and humorous anecdotes made
him, with the pupils, the most popular of the
priests; while his abilities and acquirements
were sufficient for his vocation.
Marcia was not frightened at the prospect of
a talk with Father Mayliew—she rather liked it.
She liked his easy, familiar maimers, and who
could say but that the truth, held up even to a
Human Catholic priest, might prevail ? She had
heard of some being converted, and why might
not he ? At all events, there was no danger of his
proselyting her. Poor Marcia! " Let him that
tliinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
She did not have to wait long for a trial of
skill, for on the following Saturday, when she
and Lucy were seated apart in the play-ground,
discussing their father's last letter, the priest
passed them, merely bowing; then suddenly
turning, he approached, and shaking each kindly
by the hand, inquired with interest after the
welfare of their parents. He paused and gazed
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 119
steadily into the young and ardent faces turned
upon him, as if reading their inmost souls. Did
a feeling of pity for the parents of whom he had
just spoken so kindly, and from whose hearts he
had engaged to separate two loving children, for
a moment touch his breast ? If so, that inexor¬
able oath with which he had entered on his
vocation, which banishes every human sympathy,
quickly extinguished it, and he said, playfully,
" So you are going to make a Protestant of me ?"
" That was your own suggestion," modestly
answered Marcia, " but I heartily wish I could."
" Who knows ?" said the priest, laughing; " if
you convince me that yours is the true Church,
I shall surely join it, and vice versa—that's fair,
isn't it, eh ?"
" The contest would be rather an unequal one,
I think, between a learned doctor and a young
girl."
" Woman's wit against a college of doctors,"
answered he, " and I see by that bright eye I
shall have no mean antagonist, eh ?" and again
the faces of the two girls were the subject of his
scrutiny.
Marcia was not handsome, nor would her
features be called intellectual, but she had, as
the priest said, lively, bright eyes and an in¬
telligent, frank expression which gave her face a
120
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
pleasant look when not under the control of
sarcastic or haughty feelings. Her strong will
had been accustomed to bend only to the stronger
one of her father, for Mrs. Chamberlain seldom
saw anything amiss in her children, and when
she did, her correction was too gentle to have
much effect with either; for with less self-esteem
and consequently more diffidence, Lucy had an
equally strong will. But both had essentially
good principles, and although often differing,
were warmly attached to each other and to their
parents.
In less time than it has taken to describe these
characteristics of the sisters, Father Mayhew
had finished his inspection, and resumed.
" Ah, I see I shall have to cry you mercy pre¬
sently and then added, abruptly, " "Where, my
child, did you learn your faith ?"
" From the Bible, sir, and the catechism."
" Catechism—so you believe in the catechism ?"
" The catechism contains nothing but what
may be proved from the Bible," answered Marcia.
" How do you know?"
" Because the catechism says so, and the
Bible is open to the study of afl Protestants, and
if doctrines contrary to it were taught in the
catechism, it could be easily proved. Christ, you
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 121
know, said,' Search the Scriptures, whether these
things are so.'"
" And where did you get the Bible ? Where
would your Bible, of which you boast so much,
be, if it were not for my Church, the holy
Catholic Church ? Where was your Church
before Luther, and how can that be the true
Church which only began a little while ago ?"
Marcia, not knowing which of the questions,
so rapidly put, to answer first, said, " Our Church
was in existence all the time, but it had become
corrupt, and Luther only went back to the Bible,
and reformed it."
" Went back to the Bible, indeed! Why, child,
did not Christ say the gates of hell should
never prevail against His Church ? Being then
infallible, it could not need reformation. You
might as well think to reform the course of nature
as the Church the same God has established."
Marcia saw well enough the falseness of the
priest's claims, and she attempted to dislodge
him from the infallible position he had assumed,
but what is easier than for a skilful casuist to
confound an inexperienced girl, be her cause ever
so good ! It has been well said by an eminent
writer,* " that the chief part of the learning of
the Bomish priests is to puzzle themselves first
* Archbishop Seeker.
12,
122
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
and as many others as tliey can afterwards
and Father Mayhew was an adept in the art.
The excited and incautious young disputant,
baffled but not convinced, lost her self-possession.
The priest was not slow to take advantage of
her confusion, aud pressed her rapidly as before
with questions and assertions, adroitly turning
and twisting the many facts and arguments
supplied by her ready memory and wit, so as to
make them appear untenable, while he praised
her ability and ingenuity. For two hours
Marcia bravely kept up resistance, and when the
bell rang for mid-day service, the priest said,
" You are my prisoner! fairly routed; too
sensible to hold on to a cause which cannot be
defended; eh? Good-bye, I will see you again !"
and he walked rapidly away, leaving Marcia so
thoroughly mortified at the poor defence she
had made that she could only give vent to her
vexation in tears.
" Don't mind it, sister," said Lucy, who had
been an interested though silent witness of the
interview, " I do not feel a bit convinced by
anything he said ; I do not believe the half of it,
and I am not going to be a Roman Catholic."
" Nor I, either, I am sure," replied Marcia;
"be was so cool and I so excited ; but he speaks
kindly, and I shall do better the next time."
A SCHOOL LOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 123
" I doii't like liim, sister, and I wish you would
uot talk to liim any more."
Father Mayhew, however, was often about, and
Mareia found herself frequently brought in
contact with him. The Church formed the
prominent subject of discussion on such occasions,
and he took care to keep her on the defensive,
and to impress on her mind, as he had already
suggested, that if she could not defend the posi¬
tion he assigned her, she must, by consequence,
yield up her faith: this was, of course, only a
question of time with one who looked not beyond
her own strength to sustain her. Without a
Bible, without any earnest seeking for divine
help, it was only surprising that the contest,
which depended chiefly on her memory, lasted
so long; but the convictions of a life of even
seventeen years, united with a will as strong as
Marcia's, offered formidable resistance, and it
required all the tact of the experienced and
subtle controversialist, with the assistance and
contrivance of the Sisters, to bring Marcia to a
reception of the things she was accustomed to
deride as childish absurdities; to change the
active opponent into the submissive disciple.
Father Mayhew spent much time in explaining
the mystical signification of their numberless
ceremonies, enlarging on their importance, and
121
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
engaging Marcia in their study ; and under his
constant supervision she made rapid progress
after the system had once tahen possession of her
imagination. Lucy had been present at several
of these discussions, and often renewed her
entreaties to Marcia to have nothing more to say
to the priest, as she felt sure such conversations
were a breach of their promise to their parents;
but he had ever some word of encouragement for
the next time, and Marcia's self-reliance sustained
her until she was inextricably entangled, and she
fell a helpless victim in the toils of her ensnarer.
Before Christmas, a letter came from Mrs.
Arnot, in which she explained the cause of her
seeming neglect, and gave her young friends a
cordial invitation to spend the approaching holi¬
days with her, promising to send her carriage for
them. Both would gladly have accepted this
kind invitation, but the Superior was so reluctant
to permit them to be absent at that season, that
they yielded to her persuasions, and to their
curiosity to witness the imposing ceremonies
which wfcre to take place on that festival.
Beared in the lap of luxury and indulgence,
Grace's intelligent mind had been more exercised
in seeking amusement than in reflection ; she had
left to her more thoughtful sister, responsibilities
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 125
which should never be delegated to another,
always satisfying herself with the assurance,
" Mary will think, Mary will provide;" but on com¬
ing among strangers she had felt called upon to
act more for herself.
Upon the subject of Convent life, she had been
soon disenchanted; the charming solitude, the
picturesque devotion, and all the romance in
general with which ber fancy had invested the
place and its inmates, were quickly trans¬
formed into the common places of life. She
found herself in the companionship of a large
collection of girls, many of whom were from a
class with which she had never before come in
contact, while the unmeaning ceremonies she
witnessed failed at once to captivate her ima¬
gination. Not disposed to controversy or active
opposition, like Marcia, she passively conformed
in general to the requirements of the authorities,
while she formed many resolutions to maintain
her Protestant principles. The sprightliness add
amiability of her character made her a general
favorite, and her uprightness, manifested even in
her wildest frolics, secured her the esteem of all,
and saved her from many temptations to which
those less scrupulous were exposed. The warm
friendship which subsisted between her and
Helen Burton seemed not to accord with the
126
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
views of tlieir preceptors, as very soon plausible
pretexts were found to interrupt it; their seats,
which had been together, were changed;
obstacles were constantly thrown in the way of
tlieir intercourse, and finally, on occasion of a
slight indisposition, Helen was removed from
the general dormitory and assigned a small room
adjoining Sister Catherine's. Such changes
being made at different times and with many
expressions of regret, and promises of re-arrange¬
ment as soon as practicable, and accompanied
frequently with unexpected privileges, it would
have appeared unreasonable for the pupils to
object, and thus without the concurrence or even
the consciousness of either, the friends found
their intimate relations entirely broken up, and
each engrossed with other associations.
The person who succeeded most effectually in
winning the regards of Grace, upon her separa¬
tion from Helen, was Sister Cecile, the charming
music teacher spoken of by Helen. This nun, the
best musician in the Convent, had been assigned
to Grace as her teacher, and appreciating doubt¬
less the remarkable talents of her new pupil, she
had not failed to use the many opportunities
afforded by their relations, to recommend herself
and to establish an influence over her, which
Grace's habits of dependence, resisted in the
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 127
lust few months rather than overcome, rendered
not a difficult task. For a while an occasional
singer in the chapel choir, Giace soon became,
at the solicitation of Sister Cecile, a regular
assistant. There she met Helen, whose sweet
voice mingling with her own and Sister Cecile's,
with the accessories at their command, made
such melody as drew all who could gain admit¬
tance to the Convent chapel to hear. Grace
passionately loved music, and thus all her most
pleasant associations became connected with the
chapel. She was conscious of no change of
sentiment, but guileless and unsuspecting, was
gradually yielding to the seductive influences by
which she was surrounded. Controversy could
be dispensed with while she Avas being wafted
into the bosom of the Church on the softer voice
of poetry and song. When her soul was so
steeped in its sensuous worship as to revolt at
the pure and simple forms of her own Church,
Avould be time enough to broach doctrine to her.
She saw her friends Marcia and Helen drifting
on the same current, and she questioned not
Avhither it tended.
" Would you not like to go to confession,
Grace?" asked Sister Ambrosia, on an occasion
when many girls were going.
128
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" 0 110, I am a Protestant: we don't go to
confession."
" But you may here: many Protestant girls go,
I assure you."
" I do not see how the priest can absolve those
who do not profess to be Catholics."
" It is a privilege which the Protestants enjoy
liere," replied the nun, without explaining tho
suggested difficulty, " and I think you would
like it."
" No, thank you."
Grace's heart fluttered as the Sister descanted
on the advantages of the confessional to young
girls, but Sister Cecile, who was present, with
her French tact, understood Grace better than
her zealous co-laborer.
" You look as frightened, ma chcre petite, as if
you thought Sister Ambrosia really wanted to
send you to confession. Nobody goes who does
not wish it. Let us go and practise that duet
you are learning." * * *
" Come here, Madge," said Grace, one day,
addressing a queer-looking child who stood
gazing wistfully on a group of romping girls in
the play-ground, " come here, Madge."
" My name is not Madge," was the curt reply.
" Magdalene, then; come here, I have some¬
thing for you," and Grace drew from her pocket
A SCHOOL FOB PBOTESTAHT CHILDTtEN. 1'2'J
a roll of bon-bons, the remnant of the last
supply from liome.
The temptation was irresistible. The girl slowly
and deliberately approached, and seating herself,
at Grace's suggestion, proceeded to discuss the
merits of the seTeral varieties of sweetmeats con¬
tained in the package. This child -had appeared
at the Convent soon after the beginning of the
session, and recited in some of the classes, but
did not take the position of a regular pupil, or
remain much in the school; and her shy and
brusque manner, united with her singular phy¬
sique, rendered her so unattractive a person that
few seemed to desire intercourse with her. Grace
had several times marked the cowed yet reckless
expression which her face usually wore, give
place to a touching sadness when she thought
herself unobserved. The desolation of the lonely
child smote her heart, and she had frequently
made such attempts as the present to become
acquainted, but had hitherto failed to penetrate
the reserve and distrust which seemed to encase
her.
"What is your name?" she asked, looking
kindly on the freckled features and rough hair
of the friendless child.
" My name is Maude, I know it is," she
130
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
answered doggedly, as if tlie fact Lad been ques¬
tioned.
"Maude Claire?"
" No, Maude St. Clair."
" Why then do they call you Magdalene
Claire?"
" Don't know ; they say it is my name, but I
should think I ought to know my own name."
" Have you no parents ?"
" No, my mother died on the ship, and father
got sick directly after we got to New York, and
died too."
" And who put you here ?"
" They did not put me here, they put me in
the other Convent."
" Who is ' they ' ?"
" The people where we boarded when father
died."
" How long ago is that ?"
" About seven years."
" And how old are you ?"
" I am fifteen."
" You don't look so old ; how can you know
exactly your age ?"
" I know I was over eight years old when
father died, and I stayed three years in St.
Bridget's, and three years in the Ursuline, and I
have been here some time. When father and
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 131
mother were living, I always had beautiful pre¬
sents on my birtli-day, and I know it is the 10th
of September, but I don't tell anybody now. No¬
body cares for me, and I care for nobody."
" Hush!" said Grace, touched at the expression
of such heart-desolation, " you must not talk so.
I will care for you. I do care for you—let us be
friends."
" Oh, you will go away after a while," answered
the child, after a pause, in 'which she seemed, in
her deliberate manner, to be weighing the risk
and value of the proffered friendship, " and I
have to stay ahcays, they say."
"Always! Have you no relations?" said
Grace, becoming more and more interested.
" I had a great many in England, but that is so
far, and they don't know anything about me;
they can never find me."
" Did your father have property ?"
" What?"
" Did your father own houses and lands, and
have much money ?"
" I don't know; I remember our beautiful home,
and the park ; of course it was father's, no one
lived there but us and the servants."
" Why did he come to this country ?"
• " I don't know; I used to know more than I
do now. They used to ask me questions, but
t t -
132
THE AMEEICAN CONTENT AS
now I am never allowed to speak of these things,
and I forget a great deal; but I remember father
and mother—I never will forget them, for I have
never been happy since they died. And I don't
want to be a nun, either," she added, lowering
her voice, and speaking more confidentially.
" Then why should you be one ?"
" They say it is my vocation, and I am obliged
to be one."
" Were your parents Eoman Catholics?"
" O no, we were all of the Church of England,
and I had a Bible and a beautiful prayer-book."
" Then why were you put in a Convent?"
"I don't know: a Sister came to the house
where father died and took me away. I did not
know she was going to carry me to a Convent.
We had so many trunks, too, and they said they
would keep them for me ; but when I ask about
them, they say they do not know anything of
them."
" And you do not wish to be a nun ?"
" I hate it—1 can't, I won't!" she added sullenly.
"But I must go," looking sharply around, and
laying her finger across her mouth as she
turned toward Grace. " I do not know why I
have told you these things, but you seem so
good—you will not tell, will you ? But Oh, they
hear everything."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 133
" Don't fear," replied her companion, drawing
her towards her and imprinting a kiss on her
forehead, " we must be friends, Maude, and you
must come and talk to me, and love me, and
you will be happier."
Madge was evidently gratified, but seemed
scarcely to know how to receive such unusual
demonstrations of kindness, and again laying
her finger in a precautionary attitude, she
departed.
The impression, however, made on her mind
by this interview was such that she lost thence¬
forth no opportunity of intercourse with Grace,
whose kindly heart went out in such warm sym¬
pathy for the unfortunate child, that a friendship
grew up between them ; and in their short and
restrained interviews, she tried to reduce to
order the unconnected reminiscences of her
young portegee and to eradicate or soften the
asperity of feeling and manner which the cir¬
cumstances of her life had engendered. Under
the rugged and repulsive exterior, she gradually
found there was beating a quick intellect and a
loving heart, whose affections, cherished and
lightly directed, would have proved a blessing
to those around her; but thrown back upon
herself, the}7 were corroding and blighting the
character they were intended to adorn. The
1
134 THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
pent-up feeling had now found a channel,, in
which it appeared it must flow, in spite of the
caution and suspicion she was accustomed to
feel, and which was occasionally exhibited in
her intercourse with her new friend. " Sweet
Grace, good Grace," she would say, fondly, as
she pressed her lips to her cheek on meeting,
" I wanted to see you so much."
Grace was scarcely conscious how rapidly this
eccentric little specimen of humanity was twining
herself into her affections through her efforts to
do her good.
CHAPTER VTL
They caused their children to pass through the fire to
Moloch."
Little has been said of Helen, whose unobtru-
sive virtues endeared her to all, but seldom
rendered her a prominent actor in the affairs of
the Convent. The imprudent communications
of Judge Burton had laid her especially open to
the designs of those whose interest it was to
attach her to their communion, and no effort had
been left untried to effect that end ; yet for more
than three years this sensitive young creature had
continued to hold in veneration the faith of her
mother, derided though it was, and held in con¬
tempt by those whom she was now taught to
reverence and obey, and who, in bestowing upon
her many marks of kindness and partiality, could
not fail to win the confidence and love of a sus¬
ceptible and dependent child.
136
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
It is not tlie design or desire of tlie writer to
impugn the motives of those who so persistingly
endeavor to secure to their Church the youth
thrown under their control. To nothing do the
dogmas and vows of their Church and Orders
bind them with more unrelenting rigor; and we can
only wonder how, in the face of such vows, and
of their notorious practice, they can give to the
parents who are weak enough to ask it, the
assurance of non-interference with the religious
faith of their children. It can only be explained
by the quibble of " mental reservation," which
plays so large a part in the workings of their sys¬
tem.
To the persuasions of the Mother Superior, the
expostulations of the Sisters, or the exhortations
of the priest, Helen had little to answer : a sim¬
ple, " I remember," or " My mother taught me so
and so," was all the opposition she ever offered ;
yet at the end of the third session, unusual as is
such a result, she was not a Roman Catholic.
No one could deem her heartless ; none who knew
the purity of her life, the earnestness and regu¬
larity of her devotions, unless blinded by fanatic
bigotry, could believe she was indifferent to the
subject so often brought before her. Tears in¬
deed often bore witness to the painful conflict,
caused by the well-meant, but cruel persecution.
A SCHOOL FOE PEOTESTANT CHTLLEEN. 137
" T\"liat then," it was doubtless asked, " pre¬
vented the success of so many well-devised plans
for her conversion ?" The counsels and prayers
of a pious mother had been made the invisible
armor which blunted or turned aside the fiery
darts directed so skilfully by those experienced
practitioners in the arcliery of proselyting. But
as continual dropping wears away the rock,
the constant repetition of these things was not
without effect. The absence of all teaching of
the Gospel, and the constant participation in
idolatrous worship, caused them at length to be
received as necessary accompaniments to devo¬
tion ; and gradually were the characters of truth,
written by the hand of love, defaced or covered
over witli the foul blots of superstition, and her
teachers began to discern some result from their
labors.
In spite of the many indulgences and exhibi¬
tions of affection bestowed upon Helen by the
Mother Superior, she had never been able to
secure the full confidence of her favorite pupil.
There was something in the fulsome demonstra¬
tions of that lady repelling to the timid but up¬
right child, while to the more humble and earnest
Sister Catherine she readily yielded her artless
affections ; and to the zeal and indefatigable exer¬
tions of this nun, success might be mainly attrib-
138
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
uted. Sister Catherine was an Irish woman,
devoted in her attachments to the Church, and
gifted with that persuasive eloquence so often
found among her people. If not very profound in
geography and mathematics, which branches she
taught in the school, she was well versed in the
lives of the Saints, a source from which she M as
fond of drawing for the edification and entertain¬
ment of her pupils; and to these strange and
supernatural narratives her own unquestioning
belief and enthusiasm lent a fascination which
riveted her youthful audience, and left them, if
not entirely convinced of the truth of the often
recurring miracles, at least sure that Sister Cath¬
erine believed them all.
Helen had early fallen, from preference or pur¬
pose, to her peculiar charge, and in the love of
the gentle, trusting girl, her own heart had, she
said, found ample reward for all her efforts to
make her happy. Whatever might have been
the motives of others, Sister Catherine's chief
desire with regard to her favorite was doubtless
her salvation ; and as in her judgment that could
only be secured by bringing her into the Churchy
to that end all her labors were directed. Tim
thought that she was causing grief to one who,
she believed, really loved her, was no small part
of Helen's trouble ; and had the standard of the
* See Appendix A.
A SCHOOL FOll PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 139
nun's morals been as high as the fervor of her
devotion, she might sooner, perhaps, have yielded
to her influence ; but here, young as Helen was
when sent to the Convent, her early training made
her a keen observer and a dangerous critic; and the
prevarications and deviations from truth she wit¬
nessed in those who seemed so devout, formed a
problem which her ignorance of Romish theology
prevented her from solving, while it caused her
many a sigh. But influences so potent as those
which surrounded her, could not be always re¬
sisted, and Sister Catherine at length obtained
the promise that she would prepare, with several
other Protestant girls, to be received into the
Church at the approaching Easter.
The Church of Rome acknowledges the va¬
lidity of lay baptism, even baptism by " Jews,
infidels or heretics, provided however, they
intend to do what the Church proposes in that
act of her ministry." So says the Catechism of
the Council of Trent; and this proposition is a
fair specimen of the dogmas of that Church. Is
it morally possible for Jews or infidels, to say
nothing of so-called heretics, to do what the
Church professes to do in baptism ? But on the
plea that it may have been improperly performed
by Protestants, it is generally given hypothetically
to perverts, and so those young persons upon
140
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
whose infant brows the pure water of baptism
had been poured in the name of the Father, and
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, were now
brought to that sacrament altered and corrupted
by man's contrivance, " as though man could
invent a better way to honor God than God
himself hath appointed."
To Helen, who had witnessed its administra¬
tion several times in the Convent, the breathing
on the face to drive out the devil, called the
exorcism, the putting of salt in the mouth, the
signing of the face, head, eyes, ears, breast and
shoulders with the sign of the cross, the smearing
of the nostrils and ears with spittle, and the
delivery of a white garment, were somewhat
familiar; but to Grace, who had never before
been present at such a ceremony, they were
novelties which contrasted strangely with the
simple and scriptural form of her own Church.
The trembling Helen, agitated by fears and
hopes, went through this mummery and re¬
ceived the congratulations of the Sisters. The
service was the subject of a conference between
Father Mayhewand Marcia, while Lucy laughed
outright at such dirty tricks in religion. Grace
dismissed the disagreeable subject as soon as
possible, kissing her friend and saying " I wish I
A. SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 141
was as good as you, clear Helen, yet I feel sorry
you have become a Catholic."
" If it makes me holier and happier, dear
Grace, why should you regret it ? You do not
know how unhappy I have been for some time."
"I do not see what should make you un¬
happy."
" I must not speak of these things, now,"
answered Helen, remembering instructions, " my
faith is too weak ; but the time will come, dear
Grace, when you will not feel as gay as norv, and
then I trust we shall be of one faith."
The heart sickens in contemplating the spec¬
tacle here presented, of these young girls, all of
whom had been dedicated to God in infant
baptism, exposed to the allurements of a false
and ensnaring worship in their tender and most
susceptible years, by those bound by the holiest
and strongest obligations to train them in the
truth,—surrendering thus to their blind guides!
O ye parents! beware how you cast aside the
high responsibilities laid upon you, in the charge
of immortal souls. The plea of convenience or
expediency will not avail, when ruined souls
confront you at the bar of God. If you look no
further than this life, present gratification is
dearly bought by the after years of rebellious
and obstinate resistance, of disappointed hopes
1 12 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
and crushed affections, which are the almost
invariable'results of the conventual education of
Protestant children.
The so-called Sacrament of Penance (con¬
fession) followed, of which the Catechism of the
Council of Trent says, " A sacrament must have
been instituted by Christ himself; this being a
sacrament, it must therefore have been instituted
by Christ." Is not this syllogism worthy of the
Doctors of Trent, and may not anything be
proved by the same process? The Catechism
farther states, 011 the authority of Pope Fabian,
that the composition of the chrism used in the
confirmation which followed the pretended
sacrament, " was received by the apostles from
Christ himself, and transmitted to us by them."
Lastly, these young persons were admitted to
the Holy Communion, which established them in
all the privileges of the holy Roman Church.
Helen had hoped, in her simplicity, that when
she was safely anchored in the bosom of the
Church, she would find again the peace to which
she had been a stranger since the doubts infused
in her mind concerning her early faith had taken
effect. But a short time served to dissipate this
delusive hope. The simple, child-like faith in
her Heavenly Father was gone—but multiplicity
of religious duties and the new intercessors could
A SCHOOL POL PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 143
not fill the void in her heart created by that loss.
Her spiritual directors, however, were fertile in
offering new expedients. She had been accus¬
tomed to hear the nuns, and particularly Sister
Catherine, expatiate on a life of religious se¬
clusion ; but now a more direct application of
such discourse was made to herself. She was
advised to choose some saint to whose fife she
might conform her own, and thus secure to her¬
self much help in attaining the elevated piety to
which she aspired. Sister Catherine's intimate
knowledge of this kind of literature furnished
abundant sources of suggestion, but Helen, though
neither captious nor hypercritical, could not find
what she sought in any of the models proposed.
"We must be diligent in sight-seeing now,
Lucy," said Mr. Chamberlain to his wife; " we
were so hurried when we were in Paris before,
that we left much unseen. Shall we go to the
Louvre this morning ?"
Mrs. Chamberlain assented abstractedly. She
passed the many objects that attract the stranger
in the streets of that gay metropolis with a
casual regard ; but arrived at the great picture
gallery, she could no longer withhold her interest
from the numerous productions of genius, and
her delighted, but unpracticed eye passed h orn
144 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
one to another, gazing with scarcely less reverence
and admiration on the many noble specimens of
modern artists than on the wondrous and more
elaborate works of a Kaphael or a Claude Lo-
raine, until arrested by one, the subject of which
awakened her sympathy. It was " The Mother
and Child," painted by Madam Le Bran, and said
to be a portrait of herself and child. The tender
expression of the mother's face, the caressing
fondness of the child, the arms twined so lovingly
around the mother's neck, the happy, confiding
face drawn so close to hers, formed a tableau that
went directly to her heart, and it was no wonder
she lingered to contemplate it, and did not per¬
ceive that Mr. Chamberlain was seeking other
objects of more interest to him. Suddenly she
heard a low, musical voice behind her, speaking
in French, " Oh Madeline, I never look at that
picture without recalling my own lost child, my
dear Emilie. I shall never, never clasp her thus
again!"
Touched by the hopeless expressions, Mrs.
Chamberlain turned and saw a lady past the
bloom of youth, but still retaining much of the
beauty that must have made her very lovely in
early womanhood. She leaned on the arm of the
attendant to whom she spoke, and while the
dejected countenance and languid manner be-
A SCHOOL FOB PKOTESTANT CHILDREN. 14.5
trajed the invalid, her dignified bearing and the
costliness of her attire indicated her high social
position.
"Madeline," she continued, not noticing the
presence of a third person, " if she had not been
so rich, I do not think they would have per¬
suaded her to be a nun. I do not think they
would have robbed me of my child. Oh, that
I had never sent her to the Convent; that I had
never parted with her!"
Madeline whispered something about being
called to a holy life and blessed vocation.
" These things give me no comfort," she re¬
plied, impatiently, " they do not restore to me
my lost one. I am a mother without a child !"
The bitterness of the tones smote the heart of
Mrs. Chamberlain, and moved by an irresistible
impulse, she stepped near and took her hand, and
in her imperfect French, she pointed her to Him
who has invited the weary and heavy-laden to
Him.
"With a look of surprise, but with ready and
graceful politeness, the lady listened. " But it
is my child, my daughter, whom I have lost!"
Mrs. Chamberlain woidd have reminded her
that there is no sorrow which the Lord Jesus
cannot remove or sanctify, but her natural diffi¬
dence, shocked at her unusual departure from
13
146
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
decorum, caused lier to hesitate, and the lady,
courteously bowing, said to her attendant, " Let
us go, Madeline, I do not care to see any more
picturesand when Mr. Chamberlain rejoined
his wife, she was glad to find he had satisfied his
curiosity, and was prepared to go, for she too
felt that she "did not care to see any more pic¬
tures."
This mournful effigy of " Rachel weeping for
her children," would not be dismissed from her
mind, and the crime of thus sundering, under the
garb of religion, the holiest ties, assumed a fear¬
ful enormity. Nor did she fail to revert to her
own dear children, left under kindred influences,
and the often repeated assurance of Mr. Cham¬
berlain, " that our Protestant institutions throw
a restraint around the convents in America which
renders them less to be dreaded tha-n in Europe,"
could not satisfy her. The language of her heart
was, " If I am bereaved of my children, I am be¬
reaved but when she recurred to the French
mother, she felt that in the promises of God she
had a staff on which to lean, to which that unfor¬
tunate lady was a stranger; and she lifted up her
heart in thankfulness that she was born in a land
where the truths of God's Word are open to all.
CHAPTER VEX
Mary left lier mother with a heavy heart the
morning after her interview with Eather Davock.
That day the rector, l)r. Leigh ton, was to visit
the school, when the girls who desired confirma¬
tion were to be presented to him for instruction.
She was painfully agitated ; to her own disap¬
pointment was added the consciousness that
Mrs. Hackley and the girls were fully aware that
she had intended to be one of the candidates.
How could she explain her change of purpose
without casting blame on her mother ?
Dr. Leighton was announced: and as Mrs.
Hackley passed out to receive him, she observed
that Mary was still at her desk. " Do you not
join the class, Mary?"
" Not to-day, ma'am," she answered, and soon
quietly left the room ; for she felt she could not
meet Dr. Leighton there without an exhibition
148 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
of feeling slie was unwilling to make. She
answered the inquiries of the girls as best she
could; and to Mrs. Hackley, who spoke to her on
the subject after school, she made a brief but
candid explanation. Mrs. Hackley listened with
sadness, but not with surprise. She understood
the complications to which one unadvised and
wrong step had led Mrs. Dabney, and promised
to visit her, giving Mary such counsel as her
love and experience suggested. " I think," she
said, " I spoke yesterday of the harmony between
the first SiaA. fi/tli commandments,' Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God,' and ' Honor thy father and
thy mother.' I would not now unsay a word
the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, does not always
make our path easy, and this, Mary, is a trial of
your faith and patience in the beginning of your
Christian course. Be much in prayer for your¬
self and your mother. ' Commit thy way unto
the Lord, and He will bring it to pass.' "
Mary was unremitting in her attendance on
her mother, who continued feeble, but the
restraint which sealed the tongue of each was
not removed, and she had the mortification of
finding one day, on her return from school, a new
servant installed as nurse. Mrs. Dabney was
persuaded she required constant attendance, and
Mary now saw their intercourse subjected con-
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 149
tinually to tlie prying scrutiny of two menials,
whose presence and motives she began to sus¬
pect and fear.
Mrs. Hachley and several other of Mrs. Dab-
ney's friends attempted, in visiting her, to speak
of the change of her religious views, for it was
now generally reported that she was soon to
become a member of the Roman Catholic Church,
but their efforts were met with a coldness and
reticence altogether foreign to her nature, but
which effectually precluded discussion.
Mary wondered why Dr. Leigh ton did not
come to see them : he had always been her
mother's friend, and hitherto a frequent visitor;
but latterly she had not heard of his even calling.
She determined to see him and ask him to talk
with her motlier. On the Sunday following, she
lingered after the dismissal of the congregation,
and joining her pastor as he passed homeward,
was received with affectionate cordiality and
inquiries after her mother's health. "Why do
you not come to see us now, Doctor ?" she asked,
intent on her mission.
" It lias been months, my child, since I was
admitted to your house. Often I have been, and
as often have been refused admission, sometimes
on one plea, sometimes on another, sickness,
engagements, &c."
150
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" Surely my mother did not know this," Mary
exclaimed, shocked at the suspicion cast on her
mother's want of candor. " O, I am sure my
mother would not have refused to see you!"
Dr. Leighton shook his head. " The priest,
Mary, has taken the place of the pastor."
" Then you know it," sighed Mary.
" Yes, I know it: if I could have gained access
to her, by God's blessing, I might have averted
it, but Oh, they are icisein their generation ; still,
' He that is with us, is greater than they that are
against us :' we must not despair. God is able
to bring to nought the best conceived plans of
man's device. Keep close to your God and your
Bible ; pray much for your mother, and the God
of all grace bless and keep you, and make all
things work together for your good and the good
of those you love."
Mary went on her way strengthened and
cheered, occupying herself about her mother,
who loved to have her there, in spite of the
vigilant eyes that were ever upon them, but when
she ventured to ask if she would not like that
Dr. Leighton should call and see her, she de¬
clined so peremptorily as to make the daughter
fear to renew the subject. Mary wrote urgent
letters to Grace, telling her of their mother's
illness, and begging her to come home, although
A SCHOOL roil LBOTESTAKT CHILDI1EN. 151
she almost trembled to think of meeting her,
lest she should find her changed as was her
mother. Time passed, however, and brought no
letters in reply, and thus was another anxiety
added to her already burdened heart.
Mary believed that if some one would plainly
expostulate with her mother, she might yet be
saved ; but who would do it, since she would not
see Dr. Leigliton, 01- permit her friends to speak
on the subject ? In her perplexity, she turned
to Dr. Duff, the family physician. He had not
always filled that post. Mary remembered with
warm affection, the kindly, noble hearted Dr.
McClurg, her grandmother's friend who had been
the family physician long before she could
recollect until the last five or six years, when
the grave had closed over the aged form, honored
and wept by thousands in whose service he had
spent his life. " Ah, if he were here, he would
speak the truth to my mother, he would save
her," she murmured, as a tear dropped to the
memory of the good old man. But what could
she hope from Dr. Buff? Learning to bring
the observations of her life to bear on her
dilemma, she reviewed all the incidents of her
intercourse with him, but gained little encourage¬
ment. He was polite, kind and attentive, but
was he earnest, was he religious ? Did he care
152 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
enough for her mother's real welfare to risk
offending her ? He had often lately met the
priest there, so he was aware how matters stood,
and knowing that he was a Protestant, and that
lie possessed much influence, and the opportunity
to use it with her mother, she resolved at last,
painful as it was, to speak. Hesitatingly she
explained to him her anxiety and her wishes.
He looked at her with surprise that one so young
should feel the concern her words and manner
indicated, on a subject usually deferred to ma-
turer years.
" You are young, Mary, to begin to think of
these things."
"We cannot begin too young, you know, Doc¬
tor," she pleaded.
" 0 yes, for yourself, but you must not take
other people's responsibilities on you: we are
answerable each one for himself; you and I are
Protestants, but if your mother prefers to be a
Catholic, she is her own mistress, and must have
her own way : there are many roads to heaven,
and I hope we shall all meet there at last."
"The Bible speaks, of but one tray," replied
Mary, softly, " and that is straight and narrow."
" True, the Bible says so,-—yes, it does—I had
forgotten. I don't read the Bible so much as I
ought, but I hope we shall all get on in the right
A SCHOOL FOE FKOTESTANT CHILDEEN. 153
way. I would gladly aid you, however, in any
way I can, but I fear nothing I could say would
change your mother's intentions. She seems
quite decided; so you must be reconciled, and
agree to differ."
Mary said no more, feeling most profoundly
that nothing was to be hoped from the Doctor's
influence.
" Tou are looking pale, Mary; if you do not
take better care of yourself, I shall have to take
you in hand, too. You must really not harass
yourself about these things, and—stop—let me
write you a prescription : you must have a tonic."
It was in vain Mary protested she was quite
well,—her unusual paleness certainly called for a
tonic, and the tonic must be taken. She had
thought she was prepared for a disappointment,
should it come, but the heartlessness of the Doc¬
tor's words crashed her for the moment. "Was
he an infidel ?" He had once been a communi¬
cant of the Episcopal Church, she knew, but she
was not aware that this intelligent physician had
been, perhaps through his vanity, inveigled by
Jesuit priests; that he was now their frequent
associate, and was at once their dupe and tool,
having been brought into that state of religious
indifference most favorable to their designs.
The stricken spirit, however, found refuge
154
the american convent as
with Him who " hath borne our griefs and car¬
ried our sorrowsand Mary returned to her
mother's room, relying on an arm stronger than
that of flesh. Mrs. Dabney gradually regained
her strength, and was able occasionally to ride
out; and it was on her return from one of these
excursions that a letter was handed to her. She
recognized the well-known superscription of her
absent brother, and passing into the library, she
nervously broke the seal and read as follows :
" Home, April 10,18—.
"Dear Sister—
" I sent you, about two weeks since, not a
letter, but a formidable package of letters, which
I hope you will receive in safety, as it contains
letters written at different times and places,
giving you better and more complete pictures of
things as I witnessed them, than I am likely to
do, when summing them up at some future time :
my poor health having interfered much with
a regular journal. Now that I have once more
reached Europe on my return, my desire to be
with you increases each day, and I trust will re¬
ceive its consummation very shortly. I feel the
more anxious, as the letters I expected to find
here have not come to hand, and our correspon¬
dence has been more interrupted in the past year
A SCHOOL FOE PBOTESTAKT CHILDREN. 155
than during any period of my absence. This is,
it is tine, the natural result of my sojourn in such
unfrequented places, but that does not make me
the less apprehensive of the changes which time
may have wrought, when I reflect on the muta¬
bility of human affairs.
"Being in Borne, however, you will expect
news from Borne, and I must premise by saying
that my time has by no means been devoted to
sight-seeing since my arrival here, although
there is so much to attract and gratify the senses
in this ecclesiastical metropolis.
" Many years have passed since I was here
before, and not without leaving, I hope, some
lessons of wisdom on my heart. I pass through
these scenes with very different feelings from
those with which I first beheld them. Then I
saw in these works of art, only creations of the
genius of man, and as such they yielded me
much enjoyment; ' I wondered,' as the apostle
says, ' with great admiration now, I study them
not only as works of art, but in their ecclesias¬
tical and spiritual relations. I see in them alike
the embodiment of the old pagan idolatry and
of the new idolatry which has superseded it,
converting the old pagan temples into Christian
churches, and baptizing the pagan gods and
demi-gods with Christian names: setting them
156
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
up for worship as truly as ever did the pagans.
The Bible is an inhibited book in His Holiness'
dominions, but its words are often in my mind
as I contemplate here the fulfilment of its
prophecies. Yesterday, which was afesta in the
Burnish calendar, I witnessed one of those grand
pageants which are continually occurring. In
this, the pope, cardinals and bishops were the
chief actors, and the splendid and gorgeous de¬
corations of man, and beast, and chariots, ex¬
ceeded anything I have ever witnessed, and
completely embodied St. John's description in
Bev. xvii.: ' I saw a woman sit on a scarlet-
colored beast, full of names of blasphemy, and
the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet,
and decked with gold, and precious stones, and
pearls, &c. * * And the woman whom thou
sawest is that great city which reignetli over the
kings of the earth.' Needs the passage any other
commentary than Borne, with her pompous and
blasphemous exhibitions at the present day ? I
have perhaps been the more impressed by these
things, from the associations in which I have
been thrown since I came here, and which 1 will
relate, as more interesting to you than any
descriptions of architecture or paintings I can
send you in this letter.
" Yery soon after my arrival X became ac-
A SCHOOL FOI{ FROTESTANT CHILDIiEN. 157
quainted with a young Englishman, whose
character and circumstances excited my warmest
interest; and to him I have devoted much of my
time, and my excursions have generally been in
his company. Brought up under the teachings
of that clique at Oxford which has been indus¬
triously propagating those doctrines that ' have
so disturbed the peace' of the English Church
as well as of our own of late, he had passed
through the various shades of ever-developing
ritualism, seeking rest for his roving soul in the
shifting practices of that school. He had adored
the sacrament—he had knelt for priestly absolu¬
tion at the feet of Dr. himself—but still
the craving for infallibility was unsatisfied : this
could only be found in Kome, and to Home the
amiable Doctor handed him over, as he and his
coadjutors have done so many before.
" This young enthusiast would see that Mis¬
tress of Churches for himself; he would conse¬
crate himself, body and soul, to the service of
the Church, only in the presence and under the
direction of the successor of St. Peter; and to
Kome he came. He had been here only a few
days when I met him, and having already had
interviews with some high in authority, was soon
to be presented to His Holiness.
"I was deeply grieved that so noble and
14
158
THE AMEIUCAN CONVENT AS
enthusiastic a youth as he appeared, should sub¬
ject his fine abilities and attainments to the de¬
basing bondage and superstition of the Church
of Borne, and take upon himself the polluting
yoke of her priesthood ; and I was providentially
enabled to find grace in his sight, and persuaded
him to delay so vital a measure until further ex¬
amination should confirm him in his preposses¬
sion, or convince him of the falseness of the
claims of the Bomish Church ; and so occupied
have I been with him that the controversy has
tinged the aspect of all I have witnessed here.
" I have been brought in contact with some
holding high official position in the Church, and
although I accord to them, in some instances,
sincerity, yet my soul loathes, more than ever,
that system which so corrupts and sensualizes the
Word of God, and degrades the intellect, while it
lifts up the will of man against his Creator.
" I took my young friend to the Basilica of St.
Peter's, where indeed he had already been. I
was not displeased with his enthusiasm. The
man who could look unmoved on a work of so
much beauty and magnificence, devised and
executed by his fellow man, must be wanting in
some of the finer sensibilities of nature, and
would be a fit instiument for the promotion of
superstition and slavery. Some men may be
A SCHOOL FOE PEOTESTANT CHILDEEN. 159
ruined through tlieir genius and generous quali¬
ties, but many more are certainly ruined through
their insensibility and selfishness. The admira¬
tion of my young companion was increased when
I recalled to his mind the actual dimensions of
this colossal temple. The marble hall, six hun¬
dred feet in length by four hundred in its greatest
breadth, the top of the arch springing four hun¬
dred and fifty feet overhead, are proportions
which the unassisted eye can scarcely grasp in
such connection. When his mind was somewhat
satiated with the contemplation of the numberless
objects of interest here, I led him through some of
the many gorgeous chapels which adorn its walls.
In some, we saw priests mumbling and making
genuflections as they manipulated the bread into
God, while others, as unconcerned as if in a the¬
atre, were discussing the merits of the surround¬
ing statuary and paintings ; in other chapels were
priests without auditors, going with indecent
haste through masses, said for absent persons, it
being sufficient that such devotion is paid for. I
suggested to him the absurdity of men professing
the belief of the Church of Home, performing
these acts in such a manner. His ardent con¬
ceptions of the priestly character and offices
were shocked at such displays of grossness and
profanity, and I think that even then he began to
1G0
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
think that St. Peter's contains more to gratify
the senses than to aid devotion.
"I took him to that San eta Scala, which, they
tell ns, is the flight of steps which our Lord sev¬
eral times ascended during his trial, and which
an angel brought from Jerusalem to Home. You
may not remember that passage in Luther's life
(as given by H'Aubigne) which makes this
'Sancta Scala,' so interesting to Protestants. He
says, ' While going through this meritorious work
(of climbing these stepson his knees), he thought
he heard a voice like thunder speaking from the
depths of his heart, " The just shall live by faith
these words resounded instantaneously and pow-
fully within him : he was horrified at himself, and
struck with shame for the degradation to which
superstition had reduced him, he fled from the
scene of his folly.' I did not fail to bring this
scene to the mind of young Beresford,as we gazed
on the crowds of abjeets who were crawling on
their knees to the top, shifting their rosaries
and mumbling the appointed prayers. Pome
abounds with places where such lessons may be
learned, and they have not been lost upon this
youth. His earnest and intelligent mind, once
put upon the track, has seen the absurdity and
impiety of calling such practices religion, and
perceiving that the Pope and Cardinals not only
A SCHOOL FOll PBOTESTANT CHlLDIiEN. 101
tolerate, but encourage and inculcate tbeni un¬
remittingly by tbeir presence and example, be
turns with disgust from tbeir contemplation to tbe
study of the Holy Scriptures.
" He proposes to leave Home with me, and I
think be will return to his home, by tbe mercy of
God, a wiser and better man than he left it.
Such has been the result with him, and one would
think that the Englishman or the American, reared
in the light of the Bible, must have lost his rea¬
son and his manhood, whose Bomish proclivities
a visit to Home would not cure : but alas, he
knows little of the human heart who expects to
incite a love of virtue by a constant exhibition of
vice. It is our wisdom to keep aloof from these
idolatries and superstitions, and when necessarily
brought in contact with them, to remember that
' The heart is deceitful above all things, and
desperately wicked,' and be doubly watchful,
ever seeking supplies of grace from Him who
alone is able to keep us in the truth.
" Oh, my dear sister, with what feelings of
gratitude should you and I thank God for his
goodness in placing us in a land of light, and in
giving us the knowledge of his free salvation!
And how careful and earnest should we be to
preserve these blessings, and to do our individual
duty in keeping onr beloved country free from
162
the ame1ucan convent as
the destructive and paralyzing influence of
popery.
" I have thought my friend's story might be
useful to dear Grace and Mary, and so have
given it much space ; but I trust they do not
need such -warnings. Sometimes I think that
no proposed personal advantage should have
induced me to leave those so dear to me for so
long a time; but believing that you, my dear
sister, have not failed to lead your children to
the Source of all truth, I commit both you and
them to the care of Him who will not fail to
watch over those who trust in Him. And now,
hoping very soon to embrace you all, I am, as
ever, your loving brother,
" Robekt Ltsle."
Mrs. Dabney read this letter from her brother,
the being whose approval she most valued, and
on whose judgment she had been accustomed
implicitly to rely. There was scarcely a sorrow
of her life which his presence had not relieved
or mitigated, or a joy he had not shared and
heightened: the noble brother, whose filial
devotion had been the stay of their widowed
mother. Together they had knelt to receive
that mother's blessing: he had bestowed her
hand on the husband of her choice, and when
a school For Protestant children. 163
death so soon claimed that husband, his strong
arm it was that upheld her, and his voice that
whispered holy words of comfort. How the
years fled back and left those sacred scenes as
present realities!
The tones of sympathy seemed murmuring in
her ear, and the loving eyes bent upon her, and
then—then came the actual present—a gulf,
yawning between them—a gulf of her own
making ! Grief, shame, sorrow filled her bosom.
For what was she sacrificing the peace and
happiness of those she most loved ? Not for
truth—no, she felt it was not for truth, but for a
foolish caprice. As such thoughts as these
rushed confusedly through her mind, a cold
shivering crept through her feeble frame, and a
choking sensation filled her throat. She seemed
to stand over an abyss from which she had no
power to withdraw. She would have touched
the bell, but in the effort sank fainting on the
sofa, where she was found shortly after by Mary,
who had returned from school, and not finding
her mother in her chamber, had sought her
hastily in the library. Much alarmed at her
condition, she quickly summoned the servant
and using such remedies as she had seen applied,
she had soon the satisfaction of seeing her slowly
revive, when she was removed to her bed and
t » "
164 THE AMERICAN CONTENT.
tlie physician summoned. The relapse, as is
often the case, proved more serious than the
illness from which she had been recovering, and
as day after day passed and the fever continued
unabated, the doctors began to look serious, and
Mary's heart sank at the evasive answers given
to her inquiries; and while she continues in
anxious attendance and in vain surmises con¬
cerning Grace's silence, we will look in again on
our friends at the Convent.
CHAPTER IX.
" Tott are going to be a Catholic, too ?" in¬
quiringly whispered Madge, one day, as she
joined Grace.
" Am I ?" answered Grace, startled by the
announcement. " "Who told you so ?"
" I heard them talking about it."
'•'Who ?"
" Mother Cherubina and Sister Cecile ; Sister
Cecile says you are vne bonne Catotiqve a present,
laughed Madge, mimicking the French accent of
the Sister. " She said something about Father
Mayhew that I could not understand, but Mother'
Cherubina said no, Father James was the best
person to teach you the religion, and he would
be here soon."
"Do you listen to conversation, Madge, which
you are not intended to hear?"
" Do I ?" said Madge, opening her eyes. " I'd
166
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
know precious little, if I didn't. Why, nobody
ever tells me anything, and everything is
whispered here : of course I listen, and I have
heard plenty, too."
" But it is wrong and dishonorable : it is better
to remain in ignorance of our neighbors' affairs ;
they do not concern lis "
"At all events, it concerns me to know that
y ou are going to be a Catholic," she answered,
quite crest-fallen.
" Would you be glad if I were ?"
" O yes, I don't like you to be a heretic,
although I am sure you are a great deal better
than anybody here ; but then, you know, heretics
cannot go to heaven."
Grace smiled at the logic. " If I am better
than the Catholics who go to heaven, why may I
not go as well ?"
" Because—you are a heretic."
" What is a heretic ?"
" I don't exactly know, but they are not
Catholics."
" Do you not think your father and mother,
who, you say, taught you to pray, are gone to
heaven ?"
" They say they are in Purgatory, and I am to
pray them out; and I do try, but I cannot be a
nun."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 1G7
" Why, you have lived with nuns so long, one
would not expect you to dislike the life so much."
" I've learned too much," replied the girl, rais¬
ing her thumb and finger with a knowing look,
" Oh, for shame, Madge !"
" You don't know ; but I must go—there comes
the angel—she will see me."
Left alone, Madge's important communication
recurred to Grace. It awakened reflection, and
in reviewing the past few months, she realized
in some degree the danger of her situation.
She was past seventeen at this time, and the full
and dimpled mouth, with the bright curls cluster¬
ing around her blooming face, contrasting with
the soft sentimental expression of the eyes, gave
a charming variety to her countenance, and
produced a rare picture of youthful loveliness.
The shadows had lengthened and deepened
around her, and still she sat, her face resting on
her hand, when the bell began to strike for ves¬
pers. She started up. " And so, I am to be a
Roman Catholic, they have decided ; my little
bark is only waiting a skilful pilot to steer it
through the breakers that bar the entrance to
Mother Church. What shall I do ? I have not
the cleverness of Marcia, and, after all, what
availed her cleverness ? Father Mayhew seems
to have swept her clean of arguments. I don't
168
TflR AMERICAN CONVENT A8
hear the sound of her voice, and if she could not
answer him, what can /say to this Father James,
who is to be my director ? Oh, for some of dear,
thoughtful Mary's wisdom now! I do not hnow
an answer. I never investigated these things
—indeed I do not suppose I am capable of doing
so. The Bible says, God puts words of wisdom
in the simple lips, or some such thing, but then
that means, of martyrs and confessors, and I am
neither," she continued, with painful feeling : " so
I must not expect to have words given me, but I
believe—yes, I believe, O Lord, help thou mine
unbelief!"—the feeling of helplessness bringing,
unconsciously, the words of holy writ to her mind.
Several false notes in the chants, that evening,
procured her a gentle reprimand from Sister
Cecile, who was proud of her pupil's proficiency,
although it was not at all the result of her in¬
structions ; but it gave eclat to the Convent music,
and to her as a teacher, with those who were not
better informed.
Thoroughly roused by Madge's disclosure from
the apathetic delusion into which she had fallen,
Grace continued anxious and perplexed, but
made no material change in the disposition of
her time. Several days passed, and she had
come to no satisfying conclusion, when Father
Mayhew entered the school attended by a com-
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 169
panion, and she heard aronnd her whispers of
"Father James, Father James!" She well re¬
membered the name : her heart fluttered, and she
bent studiously over her book, determined that
no act of hers should bring her to his notice.
Father Mayliew was to be absent for a while,
and this priest was to fill his place. The Supe¬
rior, who accompanied them, was speaking of the
various classes, as they progressed, pausing oc¬
casionally to remark on such things as she wished
to press on his attention. They now approached,
exchanging salutations with Marcia and several
others who appeared to be already acquainted
with the new priest.
" This is the young lady to whom the music
which so ravished you last evening, owes its prin¬
cipal charm," said Mother Cherubina, taking
Grace pleasantly by the hand; " Miss Dabney,
this is Father James."
Grace looked up, her face suffused with a
crimson blush, and her eyes dropped again at the
vision. Instead of another Father Mayhew, as
she had expected, a tall, slightly built man, in
the prime of life, but of extremely delicate organ¬
ization, his pale face relieved only by a faint
flush, bent his dark eyes upon her. He made
some flattering allusion to her singing, in response
to the remarks of the Superior, and moved on.
15.
170
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A3
It was not long, however, before accident or
design brought them together in circumstances
more favorable to the task entrusted to him : and
had they met otherwise, young and inexperienced
as Grace was, the interesting invalid might have
touched a chord of sympathy in her heart; but
with the knowledge that he had been selected as
the person best calculated to induce her to abjure
her faith, with all the vehemence of womanly
feeling, she turned from him with loathing and
distrust.
She had not met Madge for some time—and
sitting alone one day, occupied with a boob, the
child ran up to her, and betraying an agitation
which surprised her, threw her arms around her
neck.
"What is the matter?" asked Grace, alarmed
at the deep sadness which overspread her face.
' " Hush ! don't talk so loud," cautioned Madge.
" What is it ?"
" I cannot tell you, the priest said I must not;
he said it would be a mortal sin, but I don't be¬
lieve that. Oh, dear Grace, what shall I do?"
" How can I advise you, when I don't know
what it is ?"
" Oh, but I will tell you—I am sure it is no
harm : he says I must not talk to you any more ;
that it is not proper for a Catholic child to put
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHH-DREN. 171
her arms around a Protestant and kiss her.
There now, I have told you. I don't believe it
is any harm, but O, what shall I do? They
won't let me come to you any more. Sister
Cecile told him, I know she did. O dear," she
muttered, " if I could go away like the other
girls!" looking so sad and desolate that Grace,
although somewhat relieved, could have cried in
sympathy.
" Would you like to live with me, Madge, when
I go home ?"
" Would I?" said Madge, in her peculiar style
and tone, with a look that said, " of all things."
Seldom indeed, from this time, were the Mends
able to elude the watcliful eyes of the angels
sufficiently to exchange a few words; the rule
in the Convent never to allow conversation of
any length between two girls, being strictly en¬
forced in their case. This vigilance was, of
course, as Marcia had remarked, frequently out¬
witted by the pupils, but the Sisters were accus¬
tomed to assm-e them that " where two are, the
devil makes the third."
Vacation was drawing near, and Grace looked
forward to it with anxious hope to free her from
what she now found to be a most uncomfortable
position. Pather James, himself a fine musician,
found or made duties which often brought him
172
THE AMElilCAN CONVENT AS
to the choir, where he was received with the
most unbounded reverence and admiration by
the Sisters ; and the quick eye of Grace, her sus¬
picions once aroused, often detected efforts on
their part to throw her in his way. An unde-
iined feeling of dread and dislike made her as
determinedly avoid him, but she had already
been several times subjected to his flattering dis¬
course and specious reasoning. He had been
absent a week, when, summoned one day to the
Superior's room, Grace had finished her errand,
and was about to return to the school, but Mo¬
ther Cherubina detained her, saying she had had
so little opportunity of seeing her of late, that
she would like her to remain with her awhile.
Their conversation was soon interrupted by the
entrance of Father James.
" Your mother sends you greeting, Miss Dab-
ney," he said, extending his hand, after exchang¬
ing some words with the Mother Superior.
" My mother! have you seen her ?'•'
" I had that pleasure two days ago, and should
have br ought you a letter, but for the hurry of
my visit."
" Was my mother well? It has been so long
since I had a letter that one would be peculiarly
acceptable."
" Mrs. Dabney was as well as usual, I think,"
A SCHOOL FOB PBOTESTANT CHILDBEN. 17c?
said the priest; "she is, I believe, like myself,
somewhat of an invalid; yet strange to say, time
seems to make no impression on her beauty. I
should never imagine her the mother of so tall a
young lady as you."
" Did you see my sister ?" inquired Grace,
quite thrown off her guard.
" I had not that pleasure. Is she like your¬
self?"
"Not at all. Mary is much better and wiser
than I am : she is so self-sacrificing and dis¬
creet."
" Thrice happy in having so enthusiastic a
eulogist; but I confess myself of those to whom
the freshness and vivacity of youth are more
attractive than so much wisdom, which seems
becoming to more mature years."
" One can think nothing unbecoming in Mary
which is hers," rejoined Grace, the love and
admiration which had been accumulating in her
heart for Mary, findiug expression on the unex¬
pected occasion; " but pardon me, I was sur¬
prised into speaking thus of my sister. My love,
perhaps, makes me partial."
" So generous a panegyric needs no apology,"
said her companion, warmly, " but there is one
gifl in which you must allow that you excel your
171
THE AMEBICAN CONTENT AS
sister—the gift of song ; for surely two sisters do
not possess so wondrous a gift as yours."
" No," she answered, frankly. " Mary is not
so fond of music as I am, nor is her voice so
strong."
" It may appear as flattery," he resumed, " but
I assure you, and my opportunities of judging
have not been limited, having visited the coun¬
tries of song in Europe in the last year, that I
have heard nothing to surpass the richness,
depth, and pathos of your voice. I think, Miss
Dabney, you are scarcely aware of the power
you possess in it."
Grace was accustomed to hear her singing
eulogized in high terms, but she was not pre¬
pared for such praise as this. She looked at the
priest, but saw in the heightened flush and the
earnest dark eyes, only a confirmation of his
words.
"It seems to me," he continued, "that to one
of your tastes and endowments, the worship of
the Church must be peculiarly acceptable. Is
there anything for leantij of holiness, to be com¬
pared with those grand old chants and canticles,
rendered as you and a few others only know how
to render them, surrounded by all the rich
accompaniments of our ancient and catholic
ritual? I imagine you enjoy these occasions in
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 175
a manner of which few are capable. As I listen
to your voice, my soul seems wafted towards
heaven, and I almost imagine I see the spirit of
her who sends forth such heavenly melody
ascending to the enjoyment of the beatific
vision."
He was interrupted by Grace's sweet, musical
laugh. "There is more poetry than truth in
what you say, I believe. I have enjoyed those
songs and chants, sometimes I have been almost
carried out of myself, but not, I fear, towards
heaven. I have felt, I am sure, far more of true
devotion when offering prayer and praise in the
simple forms of my own Church."
" Ah, then you were ignorant of a better form,
but now, having known the grandeur and beauty
of true Church worship, believe me, you will
never be able to return to the bald and meagre
details of the Protestant ritual; a worship which
has neither truth for its foundation nor beauty
for its superstructure."
" I have," said Grace, rising as she remem¬
bered the priest's mission as regarded herself,
" a little grain of faith, just discovered in my
heart; is it not wisdom to keep and nourish it,
rather than expose it to attacks I have no skill
to answer?"
" Certainly," answered the casuist, thus ap-
17G
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
pealed to; "I would only assist you to diieet
that faith to its proper object. It would be
strange if one so well fitted to enjoy the privi¬
leges of the Church, did not find in her ritual
something to awaken faith. Truth is powerful."
" I know it, I feel it; and therefore I wish to
keep it," exclaimed the frightened girl; " pray do
not argue with me, I do not know how to argue,
and I should only injure a good cause."
"Pear nothing from me," he replied, sooth¬
ingly, " my vocation is to build up, not to de¬
stroy."
Grace looked around for the Mother, but she
was not there ; and feeling at liberty, she was
about to retire.
" Stay, Miss Dabney," urged her companion ;
" why is it you so studiously avoid a subject in
which I am assured you feel an interest, not¬
withstanding your unwillingness to discuss it?
With the example of your mother to lead you to
the true Church, I feel confident that your love
of the holy and the beautiful will unite with duty
in inducing you to lay aside this coyness."
" My mother! I do not understand you," fal¬
tered Grace ; " what of my mother ?"
" Only that she desires her daughter to
embrace, with her, that faith of which until
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 177
lately both were ignorant, and which both, I am
sure, hare learned to lore."
"My mother!" again repeated Grace, bewil¬
dered, as dim visions of what had been going on
at home flitted through her mind, hints of which
she might before have gathered, had her senses
not been beguiled and her judgment charmed
into a false security. Her own agency in all,
now stood out in bold relief, as quick thought
surveyed the year. What mischief had her folly
wrought! What could she do ? She seemed vile
in her own eyes.
" Do not excite yourself, my dear young
lady," said the priest, observing her agitation;
"it is the most natural thing for your mother to
do, and for you ; it is natural, too, to feel a little
startled at the idea, but that is soon past, and
all will be joy in meeting in the true Church.
Accustom yourself to the thought."
The words of the priest, far from calming
Grace, fell like icicles on her heart. A horror of
great darkness filled her mind : she was unable,
if she had wished, to ask an explanation of what
he had said respecting her mother. He contin¬
ued to speak, but she only comprehended that
he expected her to be a Catholic. With a violent
effort at self-control she left his presence, and
having no place of retirement, and feeling unfit
178
the american convent as
to return immediately to the school-room, she
lingered in the hall until she regained her com¬
posure. * * *
" You gave that grand hymn, ' Bright Mother
of out Maker, hail,' Miss Dabney," said the
pertinacious Jesuit, on another occasion, "with
such inimitable pathos, that I am pained that
you have lost the great advantages which devo¬
tion to our Holy Mother would confer upon you.
How beautiful to see young girls devoting them¬
selves to her!"
Grace did not answer.
"Would it be too much to ask you to recite
three aves each day ? It would be small pains
for much profit."
" I am a Protestant, you know, sir," she said,
determined there should be no misapprehension
in future.
" Yes, I know you have been called a Protes¬
tant, and I ask not faith, but simply recitation.*
Promise me this simple favor," he continued, in
low, persuasive tones.
" Pray excuse me ; I could not promise."
" You would esteem this devotion a high privi¬
lege, I assure you, were you acquainted with
the lives of some of the votaries of the Blessed
* The same proposition was made to a member of the
writer's family by a Roman Catholic priest.
A SCHOOL HOE PEOTESTANT CHLLDEEN. 179
Virgin. Father Ariemna relates most eloquently
the history of a fair shepherdess, whose greatest
delight was to retire to a small mountain chapel
dedicated to Our Lady, and there pour forth her
heart in prayer before her ' Good Mother,' inces¬
santly repeating the angelical salutation: Ave
Maria, gratia jilena, &c. Such simple piety and
artless lore could not pass unrewarded ; she was
favored with a personal visit from the Mother
of God."
" I do not expect to be favored with such
miracles," said Grace, forgetting her prudence
in her annoyance at the continued persecution ;
and she turned away, to the astonishment and
indignation of the nuns present, who in their
unbounded devotion to this as well as to the
other priests, seemed to feel it an honor to
" touch even the hem of their garments."
It has been said that the chapel communicated
w ith the Convent by a long corridor : leading
from this, was another like passage, which passed
the school-room, making, where they met, an
angle, and just beyond this angle was a niche,
in wliich stood a statue of the Virgin, a low
bench at her feet inviting a prayer from the
passers by.
It was only a few days after the incident just
related, that Grace, coming from the choir in
180
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
great haste, trod upon her shoe string, and
happening just at this spot, she naturally placed
her foot upon the bench and stooped to adjust
the string. In the act of rising, she suddenly
encountered Father James, who, at that moment,
turned the angle.
" Do not blush, Miss Dabney," he said, saluting
her, ' to be found in a pious act.' I rejoice to
find, that although you would give no promise,
you have not been unmindful of my suggestions.
You could not pursue a more profitable devotion."
" I was only tying my shoe," replied Grace,
demurely; " I hope no harm was done," glanc¬
ing at the vexed expression of the priest's face,
as he discovered his mistake. * *
" Next week begins the month of Mary—we
must be preparing," said Sister Cecile, a few
•days after, holding up a sheet of music to Grace,
who looked at it, the flush on her face deep¬
ening as she read. Come, ma chbre petite,"
resumed the teacher, " we have not much time :
let us practise."
" Excuse me, if you please."
" For what ?"
" I cannot sing that."
" What is the matter ? It is not difficult—I
am sure you know the music, and the words, O
they are grand : ' We praise thee, O Mary, as
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 181
tlie Mother of God: we acknowledge thee to be
our Lady. All the earth doth worship thee,
august daughter of our everlasting Father. To
thee all angels cry aloud, the heavens and all the
powers therein : to thee cherubim and seraphim
continually do cry, Holy holy, holy art thou,
Mary, Mother of God,' * &c. Why would you
not sing it? You have often sung such hymns
to the blessed Yirgin."
" In our Church we use that canticle, but not
in worship of the Yirgin. No, indeed, I cannot
sing it."
" You do not know what you say, ma chere
Grace," rejoined Sister Cecile, irritated, yet
striving to be playful, as usual. "You never
objected before to our hymns, and we cannot
give too much honor to the Mother of God."
"I cannot sing that, Sister Cecile," Grace
answered, her distress increasing as she became
the subject of observation to all present, " pray
let me leave the choir for the short time I shall
be here."
" Certainly, but Miss Dabney will please re¬
member it was her own proposition to join the
choir."
Grace could remember no such thing, and knew
otherwise, but was glad to escape without a word,
* See Appendix 15.
1
182
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
thankful she had been helped through the
temptation, she scarcely knew how. The near
approach of vacation had enabled her cheerfully
to bear the annoyances to which she had lately
been subjected; but the priest's intimations re¬
specting her mother had so increased her anxiety,
that, unpleasant as it was to make the request in
a letter that she knew would be inspected, she
had written home, asking to be sent for—but no
answer had been received.
The next week, as Sister Oecile had remarked,
commenced the month of May. This year the
pupils omitted the queening of the Virgin in their
entertainment on the first day, but there was to
be practised at the Convent, through the month
" the Devotion for May," as set forth in " The
New Month of Mary," edited and published by
the Very Eev. Peter E. Kenrick, Bishop of St.
Louis, with the recommendation of the Very Eev.
Francis P. Kenrick, Bp. Arath. and Coadj. of
Bp. Philadelphia.
" The dedication of the month of May to
Mary," the Very Eev. author states, " originated
in Italy, passed thence into France, and within
late years has been introduced into the United
States and practised by many of her faithful
servants." As probably few of the readers of
this volume have seen the work referred to, or
A SCHOOL roi: TLOTL.STANT CHILDKEN. 183
witnessed the devotion, the writer will describe its
1 outine as practised at the Convent of .
On the evening before the first day of May,
there were assembled in the chapel the nuns and
such of the pupils as would consent to participate
in the practice. Before an altar over which was
an image of the Virgin, adorned with flowers and
other decorations, the Litany of the Loretto was
said. After that came the meditation, consisting
of some remarks on a text from Holy Scripture,
generally misapplied, as " Give me thy heart,"
treated as if the command came from Mary in¬
stead of God; or on a passage from one of the
apocryphal books. Then was read the narra¬
tive of some one especially devoted to the wor¬
ship of Mary, termed the example ; a prayer to
Mary followed ; next the practice, as, " Conceive
a great devotion to the name of Mary, pronounce
it devoutly, and ever accompany j'our invocation
of the adorable name of Jesus with a devout
aspiration to Mary,' <tc. An aspiration, as, " May
thy name, O Mother of God, be the last word
that escapes my lips," ends the devotion, except
a hymn to the Virgin, or the recitation of the
Litany of the Sacred Heart of Mary, in which
occur such expressions as the following: "Heart
of Mary, conceived without the stain of sin, pray
for i;s!" " Heart of Mary, illustrious throne of
184 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
glory! pray," Ac.; "witli other blasphemous
titles, such as " Eefuge of Sinners," " Sanctuary
of the Holy Trinity," " Heart of Mary, seat of
Mercy !" " I salute thee, 0 Mary, mother of my
Creator, and hope of Christians ! Listen to the
prayer of a sinner * * who places in thee all
his hope of salvation." " I fear nothing : under
the protection of so powerful an advocate, what have
I to fear from my Saviour !" are a few more ex¬
amples of the idolatrous aspirations contained in
this book, issued by two Eoman Catholic Bishops
for the edification of American Eomanists : and
having given a brief specimen of the growing
and sacrilegious devotion to Mary in the Eoman
Catholic Church, let us consider, for a moment,
the position she holds in the Protestant mind.
Blessed indeed among women, as being chosen
to be the mother of Him who is the Eedeemer of
the world, yet as the child of fallen Adam, like
ourselves, subject to sin, and having no claim to
heaven, save through the merits and atonement
of Jesus, her own son " according to the flesh."
In the few glimpses of her which the Holy Spirit
has opened to our contemplation, we see her in
the exercise of the loveliest graces of the Chris¬
tian character; deep humility, simple faith, and
earnest devotion: and while the Church, in
matters of faith and salvation, says, as did her
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 185
Lord, " "What have I to do with thee, woman ?"
she yet holds her up as a bright example among
the holy men and women which the inspired
writers have given us for edification.
The same wisdom which, knowing the idol¬
atrous propensities of the human heart, concealed
the burial place of Moses, saw good to cut off
every pretext which might lead any, sincerely
seeking truth, to attribute to Mary any portion
of that glory which belongs to her Son, our
Lord; but the Romish apostasy, more stiff-
necked than the Jews, finding nothing in Holy
Scripture to support so foul a heresy, has dared
to pervert and garble the sacred text, and to
incorporate a new dogma in its creed, "preach¬
ing another gospel, which is not another," and thus
apply to itself the denunciation of St. Paul.*
A Protestant author has lately written so beau¬
tifully and truthfully upon this subject, that the
writer cannot refrain from citing a page from
" The Handmaid of the Lord."
" He who sees the full development of heresies
before they spring, has not surely selected with¬
out purpose from those three years [the years
of our Lord's ministry] of her life, precisely and
only those incidents which prove that as the
mother of Jesus she has no power with God.
The only mention we have of her during those
• Gal. i. 8.
186
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
years, is, when at Cana it is shown that the
authority of the mortal mother, so long and duti¬
fully submitted to, had ceased forever ; and when
she and his brethren desired to speak with Him,
He declared that for him there was now another
family, bound to Him by stronger and more
lasting ties than any which he had known at
Nazareth. I suppose most of us have felt some¬
thing of a chill, in spite of all the explanations of
commentators, at those words, " Woman, what
have I to do with thee?" severing with so keen
an edge the ties of years. It is difficult not to
imagine they must have fallen bitterly on the
mother's heart. Yet it does not seem that they
did. It was another saying for Mary to ponder;
and her next words, the last we hear her speak,
are an assured trust in His goodness and power.
" Does not this undefined chill arise from the
want of a fuller apprehension of the tenderness
•md sacredness of the eternal relationship which
binds together the Church and the Lord? Mary
lost nothing by that transfer; blessed as she was
in being the mother of her Lord, she was rathe)'
blessed in being His disciple, in being the ' hand¬
maid of the Lord,' in knowing the will of God
and doing it. It was a greater honor to be seated
among the believing band who waited .for tho
promise of the Father, than to be obeyed by
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 187
Jesus, as the child, in the old house at Nazareth.
Yet essential and clear as this truth is, such is
the sacred tenderness of those natural affections
u herewith God has bound us, that we could
scarcely venture to apply it in this instance, had
not our Lord himself done so with that 'Bather
blessed'—' Who is my mother and my brethren ?'
and even in that last and most precious proof of
affection, in the very dying testament to John,
when he said to the beloved disciple, not, ' Be¬
hold my mother,' but ' Behold thy mother;'
and to Mary, not mother, but ' Woman, behold
thy son!' "
*****
" Blest among women is thy lot:
But higher meed vre yield thee not,
Nor more than woman's name.
"Nor solemn ' Hail' to thee we say,
Nor prayer to thee for mercy pray,
Nor hymn of glory raise :
Nor thine we deem is God's high throne,
Nor thine the birthright of thy Son,
The Mediator's praise !
" Mother of Jesus ! parent dear,
If aught of earthly thou could'st hear,
If aught of human see,
What pangs thy humble heart must wring
To know thy Saviour, Lord, and King
Dishonored thus for thee !"
Bishop Mant.
CHAPTER X.
" God is our refuge in distress,
A present help when dangers press,"
The ricli have many friends, but it often hap¬
pens that the very fear of intruding or offending,
leaves them more open to the attacks of design¬
ing persons, and sometimes more solitary hi
seasons of affliction than their poorer and less
esteemed neighbors. With some grievous faults,
Mrs. Dabney possessed many qualities to endear
her to those with whom she associated, and her
circle of friends and admirers was large. Many
were really grieved at her late change of views
on an all-important subject, but few felt called
upon to expostulate, and those few, it has been
seen met with no success; while some Pioman
Catholic ladies, with whom she had formerly a
slight acquaintance, had during the progress of
the year, found or made occasion for such fre¬
quent visits, that the intercourse had assumed
the appearance of friendship. Visitors had been
for some time, wholly excluded. Mary, en¬
grossed with her mother, had no time for com¬
pany : the nurses, the physicians and the
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
189
priests, making the only alternations in her asso¬
ciations. Utterly prostrated Mrs. Dabney con¬
tinued, suffering and conscious indeed, but rarely
speaking, and never complaining. Father Da-
vock continued assiduous in attendance, con¬
tenting himself with brief admonitions, which,
however, elicited no replies ; and the gentle and
respectful manner with which he was uniformly
treated by Mary, inspiring him, doubtless, with
the belief that his interest in her mother had pro¬
duced a favorable impression, he once more be¬
gan to speak to her on the subject of the Church.
Indignant at the persecution at such a time, she
cut him short with such a pointed rebuke, as left
no hope of success in a repetition of the attempt.
Mary now learned from the whispering among
the women, that the priest, in view of the doubt¬
ful recovery of her mother, proposed to forego
her public reception into the Church, and to ad¬
minister to her the Sacraments in private, affirm¬
ing she was entirely prepared for their reception.*
•Seymour, in his "Mornings with the Jesuits," relates
how a priest of Rome boasted to him of administering the
five Sacraments of baptism, confession, confirmation, eu-
charist, and extreme unction, to a dying and speechless man,
who had never spoken one word to intimate a desire to join
the Church of Rome ; and the priest added, that " when he
found him so far gone (dying and speechless) he immedi¬
ately knelt down and said the Hail, Mary !"
l'JO THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
These were indeed grievous tidings to Mary, for
the physicians had not admitted to her that they
believed her mother in imminent danger. Every
consideration was now merged in concern for her
eternal interests : the loving heart and hands that
ministered to her necessities could only go with
her to the verge of eternity; and if she could
believe that her mother had indeed chosen Jesus
to be her guide and stay through the dark
valley of death, she felt she could resign her to
Him in confidence; but Oh, the doubts, the fears
those last months had brought! In unutterable
anguish she passed the night, watching every
motion, and occasionally, as she bent over her,
whispering short and simple texts which had
given comfort to her own soul, and which she
thought that even in her weakness her mother
could comprehend. " Come unto me, all ye that
labor and are heavy laden " Him that cometli
unto me, I will in no wise cast out" There is
now no condemnation to them that are in Christ
Jesus." The needed words seemed to come
almost unbidden to her lips; and although the
slightest pressure of the hand was the only
acknowledgment, Mary felt encouraged, grew
calm and trustful in her efforts, and determined
to send for Dr. Leighton in the morning.
With the morning, Mrs, Dabney was somewhat
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 191
revived, and before Mary had put her resolution
into effect, it was frustrated by the arrival of
Father Davock, accompanied by another priest,
prepared to administer the Sacraments. Mary
had no power to interfere, for she had but too
much reason to believe that it was her mother's
intention to unite herself to the Church of
Eome, and with inexpressible grief she de¬
termined to be present. The strange priest
would have exhorted Mary, but with quiet firm¬
ness she imposed silence. Mrs. Dabney had
been slightly raised, and as she looked around,
Mary gazed on the beautiful face, stamped with
an earnestness she had rarely seen there, and
her heart beat violently, agitated by contending
feelings of hope and fear.
The priests approached to proceed, when Mrs.
Dabney made a gesture of dissent. Father
Davock endeavored by soothing words to en¬
courage her. " Dear lady, you will find these
holy mysteries powerful to the establishment of
both soul and body : let us proceed."
" No, no," she whispered, " I cannot—I dare
not."
The priest turned to Mary. " Your presence,
I think, Miss Dabney, excites and distresses
your mother. You will consult her welfare by
retiring a short time."
11)2
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
Mrs. Dabney pressed closely tlie hand "which
encircled ber, murmuring, " Don't leave nie."
"I cannot leave my mother, and it is useless
to trouble her more. She does not wish to re¬
ceive the sacraments fiom you."
"Mrs. Dabney,""began Father Davock.
Again came a faint motion of dissent. " Go,
leave me!"
Annoyed and irritated, the priests were at a
loss how to proceed; but finding, after several
ineffectual efforts, that Mrs. Dabney persisted in
her objections, they concluded to leave; Father
Davock speaking some exliortatory words to her,
and casting stern and angry glances at Mary.
Bridget and the nurse, who had been silent, but
indignant witnesses of the scene, withdrew by
another door, and the mother and daughter were
left alone. Neither spoke. Mrs. Dabney, com¬
pletely exhausted by the effort she had made
slight as it seemed, needed stimulants to sustain
her; and Mary, too happy at the result to break
the silence by a word, busied herself in adminis¬
tering such restoratives as were required ; ever
and anon, out of the fulness of her heart, imprint¬
ing a kiss on her mother's brow.
Later in the day, Mrs. Dabney spoke a few
words confirming Mary in the belief that she
found no comfort in the false dogmas to which
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 193
she had permitted herself to listen, and that she
rested only on the merits and atonement of Christ
for salvation. She thought herself very ill, and
desired that Dr. Leigliton should he sent for.
Mary hastily wrote an explanatory note, begging
him to come to them immediately, and dispatched
it by John with directions to bring the answer
to her, for she began to look suspiciously on the
influence and authority that Bridget was assum¬
ing in the household. John soon returned with
the intelligence that Dr. Leigliton was out of
town, but was expected in the evening, when he
would come without delay. The day waned, and
he came not; another night of wakefulness and
anxiety passed, although the physicians pro¬
nounced the patient better. Her easy breathing
and gentle slumber promised well, and the morn¬
ing found her still improving. She had sunk
again into a pleasant sleep, when Mary, hearing
a sound in the hall, and anticipating that it was
Dr. Leighton, stepped out hastily to meet him.
With light and quick step she descended the
winding stairs, and found herself suddenly con¬
fronting Father Davock, who had stopped to
parley with Bridget. Disappointed and vexed
at the encounter, she bowed coldly, and stood for
an instant irresolute; but perceiving Bridget
17
101
THE AMEKICAN CONVENT AS
about to lead the way to her mother's room, she
stepped before the reverend intruder.
" It is useless for you to go to my mothei
again; she does not wish to see you, and will
not receive the sacraments from you."
" I must know that from her own lips," answer¬
ed he, resolutely; " I have responsibilities in
spiritual affairs, young lady, which you would do
well to respect. I must see Mrs. Dabney herself."
" She is in no condition to see you ; it will do
no good ; it only makes her ill—pray do not per¬
sist."
" I am sorry you compel me to be abrupt, but
I must see Mrs. Dabney."
Mary stood firmly in the place she had taken.
A ring of the bell startled the group. Quick
as thought, Mary sprang to the door, determined
to ask assistance from any one who might be
there. As she threw it open, Dr. Ruff entered,
surveying with surprise the assembled trio, each
countenance doubtless exhibiting unusual excite¬
ment. Whatever disappointment and chagrin
Mary had felt on the occasion of a former appeal
to the doctor, she now regarded him only as a
deliverer; for she knew he was far too profes¬
sion al to permit anything which could endanger
the physical welfare of his patient.
" Mamma seems better, doctor" she said, " and
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 195
is now asleep; but this gentleman persists in
going to her, and I am sure it will excite and
injure her."
" My dear friend," said the doctor, turning to
the priest, as he extended his hand, " Mrs. Dab-
ney must not be disturbed or excited. I could
not answer for the consequences in such a case.
She is, I think, better, and will doubtless let you
know as soon as she is able to see you."
The priest was, he said, " equally solicitous
concerning Mrs. Dabney's condition, and his
visit, he felt sure, would rather tranquillize than
injure her."
Dr. Buff, ignorant of what had occurred, felt
irritated at his persistency, but promising to see
if the patient was able to receive him, proceeded
to Mrs. Dabney's room, whither he was preceded
by Mary. Awaking from a refreshing sleep, the
doctor was gratified at the unexpected progress
she was making towards convalescence, and men¬
tioned the priest's desire to see her.
" I cannot see him," she said, " and I desire he
shall be admitted to my house no more. Tell
him my determination, doctor, if you please.
Through those weeks which have so tried your
skill, I have thought—I have felt so much—per¬
haps, it was remorse—I trust it was penitence.
I have at last come to myself; and ' I will arise
» '
196
THE AMEKICAN CONVENT AS
and go to my Fatherit may be that another
prodigal will be received."
The doctor was eminently conservative, as well
as professional, and delivered the message as
courteously as the circumstances permitted. In
vain the priest expostulated ; he " wished to see
Mrs. Dabney for a few minutes only." The
doctor was inexorable, and politely invited the
reverend gentleman to a seat in his carriage, to
insure his departure. * * *
" Where is the letter, Mary ? Pray read it to
me again."
" What letter, mamma ?" inquired the daugh¬
ter, alarmed lest her mother's mind should be
wandering.
" The letter I received from brother the day I
was taken ill. It must be time for him to come,
I think, from what he said."
" I never saw or heard of such a letter before.
Where did you put it, mamma?"
" I do not know. My mind is very confused
about it, but I know 1 read it. Pray have it
looked for."
After many inquiries and much search, the
missing letter was found in the pocket of Mrs.
Dabncy's dress, where she had unconsciously
thrust it, and where it had been safely shielded
from prying eyes. Again it was read. Mrs.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 197
Dabney could now better bear to bear those
words of earnest love, and both she and Mary
thought, from the time which had elapsed since
it was written, that Mr. Lysle's arrival could not
be much longer delayed.
Dr. Leighton was announced soon after, and
although Mrs. Dabney could say but little, she
felt more comfort in her penitence and sorrow
than in all the months of her defection ; while the
pastor did not fail to ask of God her pardon and
thank him for her recovery.
The calculations relative to Mr. Lysle's move¬
ments were verified by the actual arrival of that
gentleman a few days after. It was difficult for
Mary to recognize in the sun-burnt and darkly-
bearded stranger, her uncle, the judicious and
indulgent counsellor, to whom she had been used
to carry her childish griefs and cares, in full as¬
surance of relief or sympathy. Nor had the
years which had so transformed his delicate phy¬
siognomy, and restored to it the hue of health,
wrought changes less apparent in the niece, pass- ;
iug through the ever varying period of youth.
" Is this really my little Mary ?" he asked, as '
she led him into the library, surveying the tall
girl with loving and admiring look, as he strove
to trace in the pale, spiritual face, the rosy fea*
tures he had left; and it required another warm
198
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
embrace to install the maiden in the child's place
in his heart.
It was too early to disturb Mrs. Dabney, and
n reply to his anxious inquiries, she briefly
recounted the circumstances of her mother's
illness, dwelling most on what gave her the
greatest happiness, her mother's change of pur¬
pose.
"Grace, dear, thoughtless Grace, at a Con¬
vent ! Had you no good schools here ?"
" O yes, Mrs. Hackley's, and several others;
but Grace was so anxious to go with Helen Bur¬
ton, that at length mamma consented, and that
was the beginning of all."
" Anna's old failing, I see. I fear she will never
leam decision. And Judge Burton, where is he?"
" Out of the city for the last few weehs, I be¬
lieve."
We pass over the meeting of the brother and
sister, so exciting to the latter, that the doctor
soon prohibited conversation, and both had to
content themselves with the happiness which the
bare presence of the beloved yields.
It was not deemed prudent for Mrs. Dabney
to see even Dr. Leighton that day, and when he
called, Mr. Lysle hastened himself to greet his
old friend and pastor. Kindly salutations ended,
long and earnest conversation ensued.
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 199
" From what I learn," said Mr. Lysle, " I
believe my sister lias been tlie victim of a foul
conspiracy, arising, it is true, from her own folly :
it is, however, only another illustration of the
dexterity with which Roinish emissaries take
advantage of every circumstance to forward the
interests of their Church. Looking at the results
of the system in its own home, has, I assure you,
made me regard it with the more abhorrence.
Those who have seen Romanism only when sur¬
rounded by Protestantism, have no idea of its
real character. They dare not exhibit it here in
all its grossness: it is, however, but the more
dangerous."
" But people will not believe these things,"
answered Dr. Leigliton; " it is one of the great
offences of the cross now, to combat the false and
fashionable liberalism which forbids to speak
against Romanism; among my own people, I
assure you, I find the sentimental fear of intoler¬
ance rife. I know, when I testify against the
dangerous doctrines of Rome (as being placed to
watch for souls, I feel constrained to do), that
many will be offended. Demonstration itself
will not convince those who will not examine,
and they choose to believe it bigoted and uu-
charitable to question the claims of that Church
put forth with so much boldness."
200
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
"It is indeed difficult for Protestants," said
Mr. Lysle, " reared in a system of religion which
has no concealments, to realize that what in the
Iiomisli Church looks like devotion, is too often
only superstition and jugglery. Many are accus¬
tomed to believe that Pome, if she has some
practices which they consider puerile aud useless,
yet holds the fundamentals of Christianity un-
nmtilated— in this they err."
At this moment Judge Burton was announced
He had but just returned to the city, and called,
not having heard of the arrival of Mr. Lysle.
Friends from childhood, different though they
were in character, they were mutually attached,
and their meeting was cordial. Mr. Lysle was
fully aware that it was Judge Burton's influence
and example which had caused all the mischief
that had been enacting in his family; but he
was not one to worry over what could not be
helped, and seldom failed to elicit the good that
might be drawn from any source. When per¬
sonal and family inquiries were made, he resumed
the conversation which had been interrupted.
" Dr. Leighton and I were speaking of Po-
manisni."
" Oh, that is a subject on which you and I
disagree, unless, indeed, you have changed your
opinions since you have been in Pome."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 201
" Be assured," answered Lis friend, " that Home
is the last place to make converts to its faith :
as exhibited there, it can only excite pity and
disgust in the mind of a reflecting person, and
those who there unite themselves to her com-,
rnunion are generally such as have surrendered
their faith and judgment before visiting her."
" I have never been in Rome," answered the
Judge, "but Protestant as I am. there are some
things in the Roman Church which commend it
to my admiration."
" May I ask, what are those admirable points ?"
" I do not expect to gain much," he answered,
laughing, "by stating my points to you, but
really I think that celibacy of the clergy, the
confessional, and uniformity of language in their
liturgy, give that Church some advantages over
Protestantism."
Mr. Lysle smiled.
" My dear Burton, some Jesuit has, I think,
been tutoring you : add the doctrine of the real
presence, and you have the four wheels upon
which the system moves—the wheels upon which
Rome lias overridden the nations for a thousand
years. All are indeed necessary to support her
pretensions, and each is expressly forbidden or
discountenanced by Holy Scripture."
" Celibacy, they contend," rejoined the advo-
202
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
cate, " in freeing tliem from domestic cares,
enables their priests to devote themselves more
exclusively to the duties of religion."
"But does celibacy promote holiness? The
histoiy of their Church answers, emphatically,
No ! The heart sickens and turns with loathing
from the perusal of many of what they term
' theological works,' in which licentiousness in the
clergy and other religious orders is deliberately
allowed, provided for, and assessed. If you desire
proof of tliis, read St. Alphonso Liguori's ' Moral
Theology,' or the ' Universal Moral Theology of
Antony Escobar,' or ' Dens' Theology,' or almost
any other of their moral theologians."
"St. Paul says," added Dr. Leighton,'"bish¬
ops must be the husband of one wife and
again, ' Let the deacons be the husband of one
wife.' He says also, ' In the latter times some
shall depart from the faith * * forbidding to
marry.' Does not the course of Rome on this, as
well as other points, mark her as the great Anti¬
christ predicted ?"
Judge Burton was silent.
" And what can you say for the confessional ?"
asked Mr. Lysle.
" You give me little encouragement to hope
that myT reasons for thinking well of confession
will find favor in your sight; however, you shall
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 203
have them. It would seem a peculiar consola¬
tion to be able to open one's heart to a represen¬
tative of God, to receive the advice and sympathy
of a friend and father, and to hear the beautiful
words of absolution, Ego te absolvo."
" But," asked the pastor, " is it not a far
greater consolation to open the heart to God
himself, who alone is able to forgive sin, and
being penitent, to take His icord that you are
forgiven? Suppose you are not penitent—do
you think the priest's absolution can do you any
good ? Will it justify you before God ?"
" Certainly not."
" And if you, in faith and penitence, confess
your sins to God, can He not, and will He not
forgive, though the priest should withhold his
absolution ?"
" Certainly."
" Then the priest can add nothing. He can
neither withhold God's pardon from the peni¬
tent, nor secure remission for the impenitent."
" It would seem so," said Judge Burton.
" Tell us now, Burton, how you justify the
worship of God in an unknown tongue?"
" Hot being one of them, I cannot speak from
experience, but I will tell you what a priest said
to me of this custom. That it was most consoling
to Catholics to hear, wherever they went, the
204 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
same language used in tlie Divine service as in
ilieir native country ; and it also enables their
priests to minister everywhere." *
" If the people are not edified (as they cannot
be, when the worship is in an unknown tongue),
what good results from this ability to minister ?"
" But often, you know," said the Judge, " their
liturgies are written in the vernacular as well
as the Latin language, so that the unlearned can
join in the service."
" The bulk of their people," said Dr. Leigh ton,
" are ignorant of reading, and so the service hi an
unknown tongue is quite unintelligible to them ;
and St. Paul says, " In the church I had rather
speak five words with my understanding, that by
my voice I might teach others also, than ten
thousand words in an unknown tongue;" and
again, " If there be no interpreter, let him keep
silence in the church and speak to himself and
to God."
" These are, after all," said Judge Burton,
" but practices in the Church of Borne, and not a
part of her creed : in the great doctrines of the
Church, I believe she is sound."
" Pardon me ; confession, or penance, as they
call it, is held by her, as a sacrament necessary
to salvation. The Catechism of the Council of
* Weniuger.
A SCHOOL POR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 205
Trent says, ' To it (penance) in so special a
manner belongs the efficacy of blotting out sins,
that without penance, we cannot by any means
obtain, or even hope for remission of sins.' And
if you will examine that authoritative exponent
of the Romish faith, yon will find it as unsound
on the other fundamental doctrines of Christianity
as it is in teaching .penance to be a sacrament."
" I confess myself not able to defend the
theology of the Church of Rome," answered
the Judge,"which may not be sound, but she
certainly exhibits herself to us Protestants in an
admirable point of view in her charities and in
her institutions of learning."
Dr. Leigliton sighed.
" Her charities!'.' said Mr. Lysle. " She rears,
it is true, her stately edifices, and fills them with
priests and nuns, and paying patients and pupils,
and extracts hundreds of thousands annually
from her own people and from Protestants for
the support ostensibly of her orphans and her
poor, and still her poor are left on our hands.
Who supports the hundreds of thousands of
papist paupers in our land ? Protestants, I say,
mainly. Were the Roman Catholic paupers
withdrawn this day, we should be, I had almost
said,' without the poor in so small a proportion
do Protestants require public charity. As for
18
206
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
their institutions of learning, I -would that they
reserved them for their own people The debas¬
ing ignorance of the It o in an people is the best
commentary on Romish zeal for learning. God
grant that you may receive your child, and I my
niece, uncontaminated from their teaching ! I
shudder when I think of the dangers to which
they are exposed."
" You do them injustice there : my daughter
has been at the Convent nearly four years, and I
have been amply satisfied."
" Helen is not yet out of their power, nor is
Grace. I shall start to-morrow to bring her
home, and I wish that you would authorize me
to bring Helen with her."
" No, I am just from there, and have promised
to let her remain during vacation, as I have to
make a journey which might not be pleasant to
her, and then she is to come home. I am sure,
if you knew the Lady Superior, you would have
man}' of your prejudices removed. She is a
lady of accomplished manners and fine attain¬
ments."
" Not eminent enough in her qualifications to
remove my prejudices, as you are pleased to call
them. My convictions concerning the Convents,
one and all, are the result of a careful examination
of their principles and practices, and I assure
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 207
you, tliey only produce evil, and that continually.
Had I been here when you sent that sweet child
of yours there, I should certainly have quarrelled
with you."
" She is very happy, and the hope of having
her with me entirely, in so short a time, animates
me to bear her absence a little longer." And
the amiable Judge departed.
Mr. Lysle's decided and energetic character
was a striking contrast to that of his sister. He
felt too keenly the effects of employing Romish
servants, to be willing for his sister to retain one
in her service in any department. Mrs. O'Beilly,
the housekeeper, was only to remain until her
place could be satisfactorily filled, while Bridget
and the nurse were to be superseded by Protes¬
tant servants before he left to bring home Grace ;
but when Bridget was summoned, it was found
that she was already gone, having, Mrs. O'Reilly
said, received her wages the day before, and
nurse followed at Mr. Lysle's suggestion.
Happy to Mary were the days which followed.
In rendering affectionate attention to her mother,
and receiving from her unrestrained evidences
of confidence and love, the hours passed in
cheerful anticipation of re-union with Grace and
her uncle, for whom she felt the affection of a
father.
208
THE AME1UCAN CONVENT AS
The aggravating cause of illness being re¬
moved, Mrs. Dabney's convalescence was rapid,
but the physicians counselled extreme care and
quiet, so that Mary's happiness could only find
expression in soft whispers; but it permeated
the house. The sunshine seemed brighter, the
atmosphere more elastic, the flowers more
radiant, and she thought she had not fully
realized the darkness of the days that had pre¬
ceded, until the sunshine of joy burst upon her
heart.
" I should like to see Dr. Leighton," said Mrs.
Dabney, one morning. " I think I feel strong
enough now to speak more to him."
" Doubtless he will call this morning," said
Mary, " he comes every day."
" I have been sometimes tempted to think very
hard of him," remarked her mother. " Through¬
out the whole of this, my inexcusable dereliction
from right, there have been times when I have
yearned to go back to the old paths, and felt
that had I had my pastor's counsel and help, I
should not so easily have yielded to the false
teaching presented to me; and in a strange
spirit of recklessness and defiance I imagined
that his neglect justified me: indeed it was
suggested to me that he was indifferent to my
spiritual welfare."
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 209
" But, dear mamma, Dr. Leigliton did come
often, and lie was refused admittance—did jou
not know it?"
" Never! is it possible that such conduct has
been practised in my name ?"
" He told me so himself," answered Mary.
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Dabney. "It must have
been Bridget who has managed this," she con¬
tinued, thoughtfully; " I often wondered why
she should attend so often to John's duties, but
thought if she chose to do it, it was unimportant.
I begin to think that nothing in life is unim¬
portant."
"At all events, I am glad it was not you,
mamma, who refused to see Dr. Leigliton, and I
am sure he will be so too, for he was much
grieved.'
CHAPTEE XI.
At tlie Convent, the Protestant pupils had
attended regularly the catechising of the Eoman
Catholic girls, and although not required to re¬
cite, they could not, of course, avoid hearing, as
Helen had remarked, all the instruction, given
often doubtless with special reference to them¬
selves. The Catechism for the older pupils was
a duo, and had been gone over to the sixteenth
century. The girls were arranged, as usual, in
two classes, the Koman Catholics in front, the
Protestants in the rear.
The lesson for the day proceeded thus:
" Q. What do you remark on this century?*
A. I remark that the Church had a great com¬
bat to sustain in that age. She was attacked by
Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, and Henry "VIII.
* ' Catechism of Perseverance,' translated from the French
and approved by the R. C. Bishops of Louisville, Mobile,
New Orleans and Galveston,
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
211
Q. Who was Lutlier ?
A. Luther was a German religious of the Au-
gustinian order, who violated his three vows of
poverty, chastity, and obedience; he apostatized,
married a nun, and commenced declaiming against
the Catholic Church.
Q. "What did he write previous to his con¬
demnation ?
A. Previous to his condemnation he had writ¬
ten to the sovereign pontiff, that he would re¬
ceive his decision as an oracle from the mouth
of Jesus Christ; but scarcely had Leo X. con¬
demned his errors, when he gave vent to the most
vile abuse against him, against the bishops and
theologians, impudently pretending that he
alone was more enlightened than the whole
Christian world. He persevered in preaching
error, and after having led a scandalous life, died
on leaving the table, where he had, as usual,
gorged himself with wine and meats.
Q. Who was Zuinglius ?
A. Zuinglius was a curate of the church
of Our Lady of the Hermits, in Switzerland,
preached at Zurich the errors of Luther, permit¬
ted all kinds of disorders, had the effrontery to
marry publicly, and was killed in a battle lost by
his partisans, although he had promised them a
victory.
212 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
Q. "Wlio was Calvin?
A. Calvin was an ecclesiastic of Noyon ; but
was never a priest. He went to Bourges, where
he adopted the errors of Luther, to which he
added his own ; he settled in Geneva, where he
burnt to death Michael Servetus, who had the
courage to differ from him, and finally died him¬
self of a shameful disease.
Q. Who was Henry VIII. ?
A. Henry VIII. was king of England. A slave
to his passions, he wished the pope to annul his
lawful marriage, but the pope refused. Upon
this the king declared himself the head of the
Church in England, drew his people into schism,
and soon after into heresy.
Q. How do you show that Protestantism, or
the religion preached by Luther, Zuinglius,
Calvin, and Henry VIII. is not the true re¬
ligion ?
A. In order to show that Protestantism is a
false religion, or rather no religion at all, it will be
sufficient to bear in mind: 1st, that it was
established by four great libertines; 2d, that it
owes its origin to the love of honors, covetousness
of the goods of others, and the love of sensual
pleasures,—three things forbidden by the Gos¬
pel : 3d, that it permits you to believe what you
please, and to do whatever you believe ; 4th, that it
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 213
has caused immense evils, deluging Germany,
France, Switzerland and England with blood.
It leads to impiety, and finally to indifference, the
source of all revolutions, past and future. We
must therefore be on our guard against those
who preach it, and cherish a horror for the books
which disseminate it."
During this recital, so false to history, -Grace
glanced at Marcia, but could not see the ex¬
pression of her averted face.
"Was not that dreadful?" said Lucy. "I
cannot bear to listen to these catechisings, and I
think they ought not to require it of us. I don't
wonder Helen used to cry to hear such things,
and now only think of her believing them!"
" What is that, Lucy ?" said Sister Celestina,
who was in hearing.
" I am a Protestant," said Lucy, unexpectedly
driven to defend herself, " and I do not like to
hear such things said about my religion."
" Oh, don't say that, Lucy. How can you claim
to be a Protestant, when yow. know what it is ?
All that the Catechism says is true, and dear
Lucy, you must never say again that you are a
Protestant. The word itself is hateful. It was
different when you knew no better, but now that
you have an opportunity to learn the true religion,
you must never say you are a Protestant."
214 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" I wish yon had not said so much to Sister
Celestina," said Marcia to Lucy afterwards, "it
is of no use to be always objecting."
" I only said I was a Protestant, and that I
did not like to be abused," answered Lucy.
" But it does no good to be always parading
Protestantism."
" I like them to know I don't believe these
falsehoods, and I don't see how you, sister, can
listen to them so quietly."
" Maybe there is more truth in them than you
think, Lucy."
" O sister, what are you saying ? Tou do not
mean to say that you believe them ?"
" Oh, never mind," said Marcia, " it is best not
to talk about these things."
As day after day passed, and Grace wearily
engaged in studies in which she now felt little
interest, and no tidings came from home, her
anxiety increased. When she spoke of the
strangeness of the silence, the irregularity of the
mails was given as sufficient cause for the failure
of letters. This was an unsatisfactory answer,
filled as her mind now was with apprehensions
about those at home. She saw no more of the
priest, and the Sisters generally seemed to re¬
gard her as an incorrigible heretic. All her in-
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 215
tercourse with Helen was trammelled by the
presence of Sister Catharine, who contrived to
appropriate nearly all of Helen's leisure time..
Of Marcia she saw but little except in school;
her time seemed fully occupied, Grace knew not
how. Lucy looked sad and unhappy, but was
singularly reserved for one of her frank dispo¬
sition.
Grace was at her desk, her head bent over her
book, but occupied with her new anxieties, when
she received a summons from the Superior to
the parlor. She remembered her last summons
to the presence of that lady, and felt alarmed.
"Who wishes to see me?"
The nun did not know—her message was sim¬
ply, " that Miss Dabney must come to the parlor."
" Might it not be some one to take her home?"
thought Grace, and with mingled hope and
dread she rose to obey the order. With quickly
throbbing heart she found herself on the thresh¬
old ; she paused, then stepped quickly forward,
and stood in the presence of a stranger, the same
stately, darkly bearded stranger, whose arrival
had lately brought such relief to another house¬
hold. One glance restored Grace's self-posses¬
sion—another more earnest was given to the
stranger, and Grace was folded in the embrace of
216
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
uncle Eobert, and lier joy found expression only
iu tears.
More than ever was Mr. Lysle alarmed for the
consequences of Judge Burton's folly, as he looked
on the pale face of Helen, whom he requested to
see, and her quiet grief at parting with Grace
touched him profoundly.
Many encomiums were passed by Madame
Cherubina upon Grace ; they had, she affirmed,
endeavored to render her all that her friemls
could desire : but her ready tact doubtless dis¬
covered that Mr. Lysle was not, like his friend
Judge Burton, to be cajoled or flattered.
The parting with Helen and the many friends
whom Grace had attached to her at the convent
would have been sadder, had it not been for the
intense satisfaction and relief she felt at leaving ;
and she could scarcely decide whether the tears
which flowed so profusely were tears of joy or
grief.
We pass over the happy days of re-union in
Mrs. Dabney's family. The stern lessons of the
past were not lost on any member. Sincere
penitence and deep thankfulness gave to Mrs.
Dabney's character an earnestness which not
only made her more lovely, but which constantly
found expression in acts of self-denial and kind¬
ness. Grace, fullv sensible of the faults which
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 217
had led to all the mischief, and feeling her own
weakness, was beginning to look to a higher
Source for strength to carry out her many good
resolutions. Many were the confidential confer¬
ences held on the events of the past year, in which
Mr. Lysle often participated, his fervent piety
and practical character enabling him to point
edifying morals from their experience.
It was on one of these occasions that Mary
told her sister how many fears she had felt on
her account. " It was owing to no cleverness of
mine, sister dear, that your fears were not veri¬
fied," said Grace.
" O, I know it was not your cleverness which
saved you: God alone could have kept you from
the temptations there," said Mary.
" Yes, it was God who kept me, but He used
a weak little instrument of whom I have not
told youand then Grace related how she had
gone on unconsciously gliding into the ways of
the place, without considering to what such
things must ultimately lead, habit and inclination
uniting to confirm her in the practice of what
was at first done reluctantly, until roused by the
communication of Madge. " But I shall not call
her Madge," she added, as she finished her nar¬
rative ; " but Maude. St. Clair, for that is her
name."
ia
218
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
"And who is Maude St. Clair?" asked Mr.
Lysle, entering at the moment.
Then came a recapitulation from Grace of the
service for which she was indebted to Maude,
with the recital of her story, as she had received
it from herself.
" This is a strange and important affair," he
said, when Grace had ended; " doubtless this
child has relatives in England rvho would be
glad to reclaim her; at all events they ought to
have the opportunity;" and his searching ques¬
tions drew forth many little circumstances learned
in her intercourse with Madge to which Grace
had attached little importance, but which might
serve as links in the chain of evidence. Then he
sat in thoughtful silence, the result of which was
a determination to advertise the child in the
English papers, which purpose he shortly after
carried into effect through his agent there.
CHAPTEli XH.
Groups of anxious passengers crowded the
deck of the steamer as she approached the
city of New York, 011 the morning of May 25,
18—. With strained eyes and palpitating hearts,
they watched as the various objects of -interest
became successively visible, and by impatient
word or gesture, many betrayed the anxiety with
which they waited the moment of debarkation.
How various the feelings which agitate the
throng! Some, by long wandering in foreign
lands have learned the depths of that amw
patriae which makes us turn to home with the
intense longing of a child for its mother, and
exclaim with the poet:
" The isles of Greece, the hills of Spain
The purple heavens of Koine,
Yes ! all are glorious, yet again,
I bless thee, land cf home!"
220
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
Some have never yet trod these western shores
they have left the fatherland, and are looking
with undefined solicitude to their future in the
untried scenes before them. Others, with loved
ones waiting, are pondering on the mutability of
life, and anxiously ask.
"Since I last these scenes surveyed,
Who have in the tomb been laid ?"
None were more excited than Mr. and Mrs.
Chamberlain, who stood among the crowd. Al¬
though less than a year had elapsed since they
left their home, they felt as if the separation
from their children had been much longer ; and
as the time of meeting drew near, every horn-
seemed doubled which delayed it. Wearisome
indeed, to the returning traveller, are the various
and seemingly frivolous impediments to landing,
and vexatious the tedious examinations at the
Custom House; but all having been at length
accomplished, our travellers were comfortably
established at ——- Hotel.
The day being Saturday, Mr. Chamberlain was
fortunate in arranging his business so as to allow
them to leave early in the ensuing week for home,
and on Sunday morning, along with many others,
they entered —— Church. A feeling of home
and security crept over Mis. Chamberlain, as she
A SCHOOL FOB PKOTESTANT CHELDEEN. 221
took tier seat in the house of God, where the ser¬
vice was conducted in a manner more familiar to
her than she had for a long time witnessed, and
with devout thankfulness she joined in the wor¬
ship ; but when the preacher, a tall, spare, spirit¬
ual-looking man, rose and repeated in a solemn
and impressive manner, his text, " Bring them up
in tits-nurture and admonition of the Lord,"* her
heart beat quicker: it seemed as if he spoke
directly to her. He explained the solemn re¬
sponsibilities of parents, and continued, " I shall
confine myself, in the remainder of this discourse,
to pointing out one of the instances in which
parents violate this command of God.
" The case to which I allude is the indifference
manifested by Christian parents to the character,
morals and religious sentiments of the instructors
of their children. The most prominent candidates
for public patronage in this work of education
in our country, of late years, are individuals and
ecclesiastical orders in the papal Church. Every¬
where throughout our land their schools are
coming into competition with those erected and
governed by Protestants, at such reduction of
prices, and with a zeal that manifests a desire to
get, at least, a large proportion, if not an entire
control of the education of the country. The
* Potts.
222
TIIE AMEItlCAN CONVENT AS
vows resting on you as Christian parents make
it obligatory that you examine carefully the
claims of these instructors ; their capacity to im¬
part useful knowledge; their doctrines, senti¬
ments, and lives, that you may be able to judge
whether they are likely to bring up the children
of Protestant Christians ' in the nurture and ad¬
monition of the Lord.'
" Our first inquiry is into the doctrines held
by these teachers; that is, by the papal Church.
The Christian parent, lying under a solemn vow,
must know whether the instructor of his child
holds the essential truths of the Christian relig¬
ion. * * * The papal system of doctrine was
never settled until the Council of Trent, which
closed its sessions in 1564. Previous to this,
councils had dealt very much in formularies, and
they had defined and changed, affirmed and con¬
demned, hi so many different ways, that it was
no very unusual thing for that to be rank heresy
in one section of the Church that was orthodox
in another; and opinions of every shade and hue
were held by different teachers in that communion.
The Protestant controversy compelled Pome to
settle her faith, and the great and last General
Council, convened at Trent in 1545, for this pur¬
pose. Their decrees having been confirmed
by the Pope, according to the doctrine of that
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 223
Church, are infallible and unalterable. The
explanations of doctrine given are sufficiently
extended to enable us now to know what is the
faith of that Church, and hence our opinion may
now be fairly made up.
* * * " The motto of Protestants since the
dawn of the reformation has been ' The Bible
alone.' The moment this is departed from, we
open the flood-gate to all manner of error. The
decree passed by the Council of Trent at its
fourth session, declares the Old and New Testa¬
ments, the Apocrypha, and traditions of the
Church, to be of equal authority in faith and man¬
ners. It adds, ' whoever shall not receive as
sacred and canonical, all these books, and every
part of them, as they are commonly read in the
Catholic Church, and are contained in the old
Yulgate Latin edition, or shall knowingly and
deliberately despise the aforesaid traditions, let
him he accursed.'* Do Protestant parents keep
their vow to God and the Church when they com¬
mit their children to instructors who not only
receive a different rule of faith, but are bound to
curse them and their children for holding ' the Bible
alone'?
" The doctrine of justification by faith has ever
been the peculiarly cherished doctrine of the
* Cramp's Council of Trent, pp. 54, 55.
224
THE AMEMCAN CONVENT AS
Protestant Church. Luther pronounced it ' the
doctrine by which the Church stands or falls.'
It teaches us that our justification is alone through
the merits of Christ. The Scriptures teach ' The
just shall live by faith."—'Being justified freely
by His grace, through the redemption that is in
Christ Jesus.'—'Therefore being justified by
faith, we have peace with God through our Lord
Jesus Christ.' Now hear the Council of Trent:
Canon II.— Whosoever shall affirm that men are
justified solely by the imputation of the right¬
eousness of Christ, or the remission of sin, to the
exclusion of grace and charity, which is shed
abroad in their hearts, and inheres in them : or
that the grace by which we are justified is only
the favor of God, ' let him be accursed.' "
The preacher then quoted the 12th, 18th, 24th,
25tli, and 2Gtli canons, all setting forth the
unscriptural doctrines, " that man can keep the
whole law of God, and that the righteous deserve
everlasting reward for their good works," and
proceeded to examine the canons upon the
doctrine of the sacraments, which he showed to
be equally unsound, continuing : " The recital
of doctrines here from their own standards will,
we trust, be sufficient to awaken an inquiry upon
this subject which cannot but result in the
"ouvic'tion that the plan of salvation drawn by
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 225
Rome from the Bible, the Apocrypha, and
traditions of the Church is entirely different
from, and directly opposed to that which Protes¬
tants draw from ' The Bible alone.'
" I have said nothing in this examination of
the monstrous doctrines of indulgences, purga¬
tory, prayers for the dead, the worship of the
Virgin, saints, relics, and the adoration of the
wafer, all confirmed by the Council of Trent,
because, though no one can conform to them
without sin, they do not go into the very vitals
of the way of life. Yet it must be matter of
grave inquiry with every Protestant parent, since
all their pupils are required to assist in their
religious services, whether he is performing his
vow to God, whilst he permits his child to pass
through these idolatrous services, and to have his
mind filled with the hopes of gratifying sinful
inclinations with impunity, which these doctrines
foster."
Then, after stating that the Jesuits, or Society
of Jesus, were the principal educators in the
Roman Church, the speaker went on to give a
brief history of that order, and the cause which
originated it, drawn from Professor Ranke and
other undoubted authorities, and concluded :
" Here then is a society or ecclesiastical order,
originated for meeting the emergency produced by
22G
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
the reformation, and fund amen tally adapted to
meet the struggle with Protestantism, pushing
forward with an unprecedented success, and
answering most perfectly the end of its institution
by controlling education. Arrived at the pleni¬
tude of power, they become the arch-intriguers
in all countries, and are finally suppressed through
the influence, not of Protestants, but Roman
Catholic sovereigns, for seducing the youth, and,
forming conspiraciesfor theoverturning of established
governments. By the light thus thrown by history
upon this order, can any one be at a loss to solve
the mystery of their operations in our country
now ? The movements are precisely the same ;
the actors governed by the same constitutions;
the ends aimed at the same, as we shall see by
the brief statements we have to make in bringing
that history to the present time. The revolution
in France, and the wars of Napoleon which
succeeded and brought the Pope and almost all
Europe to his feet, utterly precluded for the time
any action on the part of the papacy. The
supremacy was gone, and the Pope became a
prisoner of the Emperer in the palace of
Fontaincbleau. But 110 sooner had the tide
turned, and the allies become the victors, than
the grasping ambition of the pontiff revived.
Pius VII. had scarcely reached Borne 011 his
A SCHOOL FOB PEOTESTANT CHILDBEN. .227
return from his prison, before the decree re¬
viving the order of Jesuits, properly termed the
' Janissaries of the Pope,' was issued in 1814.
Again they are swarming in every Catholic
country of Europe, have crept back in the face
of the decree against them in France, and are
building their colleges in England, Switzerland,
and the United States, and by the education of
youth, again counter-working Protestantism.
" To control the countries and mould their
governments to suit their own purposes, and
reduce the whole to the spiritual domination of
the Pope, is the end for which' their order was
originated; for which, when suppressed, it was
revived; and consequently, for which it now
lives and acts. That they will involve this land
in troubles and conflicts is just as certain as that
like causes produce like effects. Where is the
American parent, not to say the Christian under
vows, who knowing these facts, will turn over
his child to be trained up by men who will use
him afterwards as their tool, to ruin the liberty,
civil and religious, which our fathers trans¬
mitted, a priceless boon, to us V
"The special candidates for patronage in the
instruction of your daughters are ihe orders of
the Ursulines, the Yisitandines, and the Sacred
Heart; orders shown by Professor Michel at, in
, r~' r--
228
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
his late work, to be peculiarly under the spiritual
direction of the Jesuits, and the last a creation
of their own, composed of women enthusiastically
engaged in the work to which they have vowed,
and blindly obedient to the will of their confessors
and spiritual guides. They are satisfied of the
infallible truth of the destructive doctrines we
have rehearsed, and sure that the curse of God
rests on the parents of the children they are
educating, and hence bound, by every feeling of
benevolence, to separate the child from the bane¬
ful influence of the parent and infuse their own
dogmas into her mind. What is a promise not
to interfere with your child's religion worth under
such circumstances ? How long think you would
they continue their self-denying labors in a
Protestant community if they were assured the
result must be the making of all their pupils firm
and decided Protestant Christians ? Yet this is
the end you are bound by your vow to seek in an
instructor for the child God has committed to
you.
" The instruction given in these convents and
seminaries is liable to all the objections belonging
to the Jesuit schools. The teachers in three-
fourths of the cases are unqualified for their work;
and that lack entails itself ; for each succeeding
generation of teachers was taught by the one
A SCHOOL roll LliOTEfiTANT CHUDBEN. 229
preceding it. A modern language or two may
be well taught, for the teachers are mostly
foreigners; the English rudiments may also be
pretty correctly imparted, and some ornamental,
showy branches thrown over the whole to hide
its nreagreDess. But the things that form the
character, and make useful, intelligent wives and
mothers, fitted for the stations they are about to
occupy in society, will be wholly wanting, for the
simple reason that they are things no cloistered
nun can from experience know, and hence can
never impart. It will be well, in closing this
subject, to look at the consequences that result
from the violation of this precept.
" God knows what is in man, and has formed
his government and all his laws with reference to
this end. Our own experience fully confirms the
truth that on the training depends the character
and after life of the child, and hence reason
assents to the propriety and necessity of the
precept, and leads us to look for disastrous con¬
sequences if it is neglected. The fulfilment of
the solemn vow taken by Christian parents upon
the baptism of their children, is the condition
upon which rests the blessings contained in God's
covenant to Abraham : ' I will be a God unto
thee, and to thy seed after thee.'—' The children
of thy servants shall continue and their seed shall
230 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
Lo established before thee.'—'He that feareth
the Lord, his seed shall inherit the earth.'—
These covenant blessings have no mysterious
sense; they will be realized so certainly as
covenant is kept with God. But if you break
covenant, failing in the performance of your vow,
you lose all claim to the promised good. Tour
children lose the advantages of these promises
through your sin. Thus, parents sin not alone,
but by casting off their duty to God, He casts
their children off from His covenant, and gen¬
erations unborn feel the effects of their neglect
of duty. O parents! have mercy upon your
children—be not destitute of natural affection—
secure to them, as you may, God's covenant
blessings, that He may be their Father and their
God!
" Another consequence is found in the utter
ruin of family peace. The domestic circle is
God's appointed refuge from the toils and per¬
plexities and sorrows of life. The domestic altar
is the dearest and sweetest shrine at which man's
offerings are made; where those most loved 011
earth present together their morning jfhd even¬
ing vows to a God of love. But trust your sons
and daughters to those who are under vows to
estrange them from you and your religion, and
wlio are conscientious in performing their vows,
A SCHOOL FOB PROTEST ANT CHILDREN. 231
because they believe they will do God and your
children service, and your domestic peace is
gone. There will be secrets cherished in the
breast of your child that he will not reveal to
you, and your altar will be an abomination in his
sight. Your home will be filled with discord ;
and the God of your fathers will be forsaken.
" By indifference to this precept, and conse¬
quently by committing your children to the com¬
missioned emissaries of the Boman Church, you
give your patronage, your money, and what is
worse, the energies of your own offspring, to
build up a politico-religious system, designed to
pull down the institutions of freedom under which
you live. The head of that Church is a tem¬
poral prince; the form of government absolute
monarchy ; he claims universal spiritual empire,
and uses the spiritual to build up and extend the
temporal. His most efficient agents are the
Jesuits, and their mode of accomplishing his
purposes, the education of youth. By this
method they subdued Germany, France, a large
part of Switzerland, and reigned with despotic
sway for two hundred years in Italy, Spain, and
Portugal. They have always advanced by at¬
taching the youth of the country to their cause,
and selecting the most talented to fill their own
ranks as co-workers. The scheme is wise, the
232
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
means well adapted to the end, and the whole
machinery is in operation in your midst; and
you give your sons and daughters into their
embrace. If, before your head is silvered over
and laid in the grave, you find them destroying
the temple of liberty and of your God, you need
not feel surprised; it is a consequence invoked
by your own acts.
" Lastly, the destruction of the souls of your
children, unless God's grace prevents, is a conse¬
quence. You place them under influences where
the light of truth will be shut out from their
minds, and a false system presented for their
belief; if they receive it, they have embraced an
Error that destroys the soul; if they reject it,
you have seared their consciences by exposing
them to a system of superstition and idolatry,
bearing the name of the Christian religion, and
thereby tempting them to reject the Bible and
all religion in their hearts. The absurdities of
the papal faith made deists of Voltaire and his
companions, and has made infidels of hundreds
wearing the priestly garb this day in their own
communion ; and such are its natural tendencies.
" Let these consequences be fairly examined ;
see if they do not legitimately flow from the evil
held up to your minds to-day, and may God
a school Lob hrotestant children. 233
enable you to act aright in view of the responsi¬
bility he has laid upon you."
This discourse was delivered with all the
touching earnestness and simplicity characteristic
of the speaker, and with the solemnity of one
who fully realized his responsibility in the charge
of souls. Mr. Chamberlain sometimes cast a
furtive glance at his wife's face, where he saw
the tears chasing each other unnoticed down her
cheeks. Service ended, they departed. from the
house of God with others, who perchance had
felt the scourge as well. Not a word was spoken,
neither had aught to say that might encourage
the other; they could but wait and hope, and
every obstacle to their departure being over¬
come, the hundreds of miles that intervened
were rapidly passed over.
Arrived at W , they lost no time in has¬
tening to St. Margaret's, where they were
ushered in by the identical nun with the gro¬
tesque bonnet who had met them on a former
occasion. Mrs. Chamberlain, however, had be¬
come accustomed to such ridiculous garbs in the
numerous orders of nuns she had seen in foreign
countries, and this one scarcely excited a smile.
" The Misses Chamberlain we would see," said
Mr. Chamberlain, nervously.
" Chamberlain," repeated the nun, deliberately^.
231
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" Yes, Marcia and Lucy Chamberlain."
" O yes, walk in; I will tell the Mistress-
General and she led the way to the reception-
room. The Mistress-General soon appeared, and
very soon after Marcia and Lucy were in their
parents' arms.
Mrs. Chamberlain wept, and Marcia wept, and
Lucy was wild with excitement and joy. Mr.
Chamberlain felt immeasurably relieved. The
very joy of their children at their return seemed
a guarantee that all was well. He began to
think that they had been very foolish to let
useless misgivings deprive them of much pleas¬
ure in their travels. When greetings were over,
and the glad excitement had a little subsided, he
announced his intention to take the girls home
with them. Mother Cherubina said it wanted so
short a time to vacation, and it was so impor¬
tant for them to finish the session, that she
would suggest that they should remain till the
close : she knew it would be a hardship after so
long a separation, but considering their profit,
would it not be best to make the sacrifice ?
Mr. Chamberlain looked at his wife, but before
she had time to speak, Lucy, who had heard the
proposal, sprang to her feet, much excited.
" Take us home, mother, take us home, if you.
do not wish us to become Koman Catholics. I teD
A SCHOOL LOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 235
you we shall, if we stay here any longer. They
say they do not influence us, but it is influence
all the time, a pressure I cannot bear; and although
I do not believe a word of it, I shall be obliged
to become a Roman Catholic just to get peace."
The rapidity and excitement with which Lucy
delivered herself, prevented any interruption,
while all looked at her with astonishment, and of
course, with varied feelings.
" Please explain yourself," said the Superior,
sharply. " I know not what you mean."
Lucy was silent—shocked at her indecorum,
she stood abashed.
" Please explain yourself, my child." said
Mother Clierubina, more blandly, re-assured by
her silence. " If anything has happened to
annoy you, you should have complained to me.
I am always ready to redress a grievance that is
made known to me. Why did you not come to
me ?" putting her hand caressingly around her.
Lucy was a frank, open disposition herself,
and abhorred deceit in others; moreover she
was a little wilful, and liked to speak her mind
sometimes, as she said; and now, urged by the
Superior, she answered : " I have not only been
required to study Roman Catholic books, but
often urged to become a Roman Catholic, as the
only way to save my soul. As I would not con-
236
THE A.MEIilCAN CONVENT AS
sent, my sleep has been disturbed by noises and
apparitions which I believe were gotten up to
frighten me into doing what I knew was wrong."
" But why did you not come to me ?" said the
mother.
" Because I believed these things were not
done without authority," answered Lucy.
" You have been deceived by your fancies, my
child," said the lady. " What possible interest
could any here have in making a Catholic of
you ?"
" I don't know," said Lucy; " I only know that
these things were done, and they try to make
Catholics of all the girls."
" Come," said Mr. Chamberlain, impatiently,
" get your things, girls, and let us be gone."
" I trust you will not depart with an unfavorable
impression of our school," said the Superior. "I
am sure some naughty girls have been playing
on the fears of Lucy."
" You promised us no religious influence should
be exerted over our children," said Mr. Cham¬
berlain.
" And none has been, I assure you. If any
Protestant pupil here, attracted by the beauty
and holiness of our worship, wishes to receive
religious instruction," glancing at Marcia, " it is
only given at her own request."
A SCHOOL FOK FliOTESTANT CHILDREN. 237
" Without regard to promises made to her
parents," said Mr. Chamberlain, bitterly.
" If you had not confidence in us, why did you
place your children with us ?"
" Because I was foolish enough to believe your
professions." said the father, losing his courtesy
in his wrath.
" If young ladies under our care appreciate
the advantage of becoming acquainted with the
doctrines of our Holy Church, we cannot help
it," said the Superior, deprecatingly.
" Of course not."
Marcia was silent during the interview, and all
were relieved by the girls going to prepare for
their departure.
The small fees had been all paid in advance :
but some additional items, uow handed to Mr.
Chamberlain, lie found brought the amount to
about the same he would have paid had he left
his children with Mrs. Hackley. " So much for
this piece of economy," thought he.
While the trunks were made ready, with which
the girls had little to do, they took a hurried
leave of their companions, to whom Lucy's
generous qualities had greatly endeared her, and
with whom Marcia, too, enjoyed a sort of pre¬
eminence. Marcia also had a short conference
with the Superior.
238
'1HE AMEKICAN CONTENT AS
Seated in tlie carriage which conveyed them
to the station, Lucy's joy knew no bounds. " I
am so glad, I am so glad," exclaimed she, as she
looked out, " it is the last time I shall see those
hated walls! It has been the longest year I ever
passed and she kissed her mother again in an
ecstasy.
Marcia was unusally silent, and her face wore
a perplexed and troubled look, which Mrs.
Chamberlain observed. " She is more thought¬
ful than Lucy," she said to herself, " she has felt
our absence greatly, I am afraid: it is natural
she should not be so gay."
" The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a
stranger intermeddleth not with its joy," saith
the preacher, and the sisters were verifying his
words. Delighted as Lucy was at again seeing
her beloved parents, there was yet a spring of
joy in her heart uiiconimunicated to any, while
Marcia hid in her bosom a secret which she
dared not reveal, and which rankled there and
brought the tears to her eyes as she received
the caresses of her fond and confiding parents.
During the bustle of settling down at homo
again nothing happened to mar Mr. and Mrs.
Chamberlain's gratification. The girls were
grown a little, but not much changed ; if Marcia
was not so talkative and entertaining as formerly,
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 239
Lucy was equally so, and seemed to Lave an
extreme tenderness and consideration for her
sister which they had not observed before.
Sunday came, and when all were ready for
church, Marcia was not there; but Lucy said
she was complaining of headache and begged to
be excused going out to-day. The next week
passed, and when Sunday came, Marcia again
pleaded indisposition. " This is strange," said
Mr. Chamberlain, who was strict in requiring his
household to attend church, on Sunday at least.
" This is strange; Marcia has been quite well
during the week. What is the matter ?"
Lucy did not know—she was lying down.
Mr. Chamberlain's brow darkened, but unwill¬
ing to be late, or have anything unpleasant occur
at that time, he led the way, merely saying, he
hoped Marcia's periodical indisposition would
pass off before the next Sabbath. Marcia, how¬
ever, declined dinner, and Mr. Chamberlain,
concluding she was really sick, attached no more
importance to it. On the following Sunday
Marcia appeared, much to the satisfaction of all,
and took her place with the family as they
started for church. But as the weeks passed she
seemed strangely changed; her family could not
fail to observe the sad expression of her face,
and her reserved and restless manner. No
240 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
comment was made : eacli loving heart feared to
awaken fears or excite injurious suspicions in the
minds of the others, hut each strove with the
utmost solicitude to banish the sadness (whatever
might be its cause), that appeared to burden her.
Often the traces of tears were on her face, and
she liked most to be in solitude. Lucy, formerly
the trusted confidante of all her high schemes,
had long found herself excluded from that place
inher heart; painfully she had felt the alienation
at the Convent, and the hope that the presence
of her parents and return to their home would
dissipate the new fancies which had taken
possession of her mind and destroy the influence
she was sensible the priest had acquired over
her, was .the stimulant which had given such
exuberance to the happiness she felt on their
return. She was sure that Marcia's delusion
must yield to her father's representations.
Mr. Chamberlain was a professor of religion,
but as we have seen, he had not fully renounced
the world when he embraced that profession.
Many things in the last year, however, had
tended to make him anxious to order his life in
a manner more acceptable to God than he had
hitherto done, and as a means thereto, as well as
for the edification of his household, he now
desired to establish family worship in his house.
A SCHOOL LOli PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 241
Mrs. Chamberlain readily concurred, and ho
announced at dinner his intention to call them
together the following morning.
Marcia, as was become her custom, departed
in the afternoon on her solitary walk. This was
another source of disquietude to Lucy. More
than once she had tried to draw from her some
intimation of the object and direction of her ex¬
cursions ; now she determined, if possible, to
satisfy herself. Hastily throwing on her bonnet
and shawl, she followed her at a convenient dis¬
tance, and soon had her worst fears confirmed as
she saw her enter a Boman Catholic church.
She did not pause until she was seated in a re¬
tired pew, where she could observe her sister go
through with all the minute genuflections of the
most devout Bomanist. It was Yespers, and there
were few present. At the close of the service,
when the priest entered the sacristy, Marcia lin¬
gered until the other worshippers had departed,
and then followed him. Lucy felt as if a thun¬
derbolt had fallen upon her heart; she had not
thought that Marcia would have gone so far as
that. She left the church and returned to her
home, where Marcia arrived soon after, having
had, as she said, " a pleasant walk."
Shocked at this insincerity and prevarication,
and grieved at what she had witnessed, she knew
242
THE AMEltlCAN CONVENT AS
not what lo do. Remonstrance with Marcia slio
knew would be useless : should she accquaint her
parents, and leave them to deal with her ? She
feared much for her father and Marcia to come
in conflict, and her heart sank at the thought of
what her mother would sutler : she could not
summon resolution to break the silence.
Day after day passed, and Marcia assembled
with the family for prayers, and attended church
when she could fiud no excuse to remain at home,
but still she took her daily walks, and Lucy knew
but too well whither they led. She wondered
that going so regularly to mass, she should be
willing to join in Protestant worship, but her
course completely blinded Mr. Chamberlain.
" Why do you prefer to walk alone, Marcia ?"
said Mrs. Chamberlain, one day, as her daughter
was starting for her usual walk, " you used to
like to have Lucy with you always."
" Lucy does not care to go," said Marcia.
" O yes, I do, sister," said Lucy, " just wait a
a minute and not waiting for a farther invita¬
tion, she ran for her bonnet and shawl and joined
Marcia.
They walked on in silence for some time, when
Marcia said, " Suppose, just for' lang syne,' Lucy,
we step in here and hear the Vespers ?" as they
came to the church.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 243
" I have no desire, sister ; we had enough of
that at the Convent, I think."
" Just for once," persisted Marcia.
" I would rather not; father and mother would
not like it."
* " They need not know it," said Marcia, looking
earnest!}' at Lucy.
" Sister," said Lucy, " we have never been used
to deceive, our parents, shall we begin it now ?"
"We are not bound to tell everything," said
Marcia.
"We are bound to tell everything if we are
asked," said Lucy, " and if we do what is con¬
trary to their wishes, we may be sure it will lead
to falsehood."
" You are very particular," said Marcia, sar¬
castically.
" Yes, about speaking and acting the truth,"
said Lucy.
" You know we were raised to that, and I would
no more act a lie than I would speak one."
Marcia bit her lip—she was not accustomed
to being reproved by Lucy, and she felt provoked.
" I, at least, am old enough to form opinions for
myself," said she.
" How often have you been to this church
since you came home ?" asked Lucy, making a
244
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
great effort to do what she felt must be done,
however disagreeable.
Marcia again scrutinized her face. " How do
you know I have been here at all?"
" Because I saw you," said Lucy.
" I am watched, then," said Marcia, tossing her
head with a heroic air.
" Dear sister," said Lucy, " do not be angry
with me. I followed you once. I could not bear
the horrid feeling of suspecting you of duplicity."
" Did you tell father and mother ?" said Mar¬
cia, coldly.
" I have told no one, and Oh, do not make it
necessary for me to tell them ; leave this course,
it can only lead to evil. Only think how it will
distress father and mother to know that you have
left the faith in which you have been raised for
one"
" Yes," said Marcia, interrupting her, " I know
it will distress them, and therefore I say nothing,
and you must say nothing, Lucy."
" But, Marcia, surely you are not a Roman
Catholic ?"
" I did not say that I was," said Marcia.
" Then what is there to conceal?"
" What if I go sometimes to church—father and
mother need not know it."
" Oh, Marcia, Marcia, you were wont to be
A SCHOOL POIi ITOTFSTANT CHTT.DLEN. 245
true and sincere, and now you would live a lie to
your own parents, and it is all tlie work of those
nuns and priests, I know."
" I see no use in troubling father and mother
with my affairs," said Marcia.
" To what can such deceit lead ? How long
can you continue in this way ?" asked Lucy.
" That must depend somewhat upon you."
The walk was soon brought to an end, and
when they reached home, Marcia said, " You
will say nothing about what has passed, Lucy ?"
" I promise nothing, if I am asked," said Lucy.
* * * *
" Lucy," said Mrs. Chamberlain, " where did
you and Marcia go yesterday ?"
" We only took a walk," said Lucy.
" I was glad you went with her; I felt so un¬
easy at Marcia's conduct, I could not help fearing
lately, and yet I despised myself for the thought
that she could practise a deception; she was
always so upright."
Lucy burst into tears.
" What is it, Lucy ? Tell me, my love. I
think I could bear a certainty as well as the
harassing doubts that continually haunt me."
And gradually Mrs. Chamberlain drew from
Lucy all that she knew of Marcia's perversion.
It was now that all Father Mayhew's blandish-
246
THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
ments and arguments were recalled, and the whole
history of the year at the convent laid open to
Mrs. Chamberlain, so far as Lucy knew it. If
Marcia had united herself to the Romish Church
she was not informed of it, but she had many
fears that she had, from her conduct since her
return home.
" Let us trust that this delusion will be but
temporary," said Mrs. Chamberlain, when the
first shock and agony were over, striving to
infuse some hope into her sinking heart as she
thought of the wilfulness of Marcia's conduct.
Formerly the uprightness of her character was
the lever by which she could be moved ; but now,
alas, where was she to look for a motive ? She
could only carry her grief to God, for Mrs.
Chamberlain had long felt the burden of her
cares too heavy to bear in her own strength, and
she was accustomed to lay it upon Him who has
invited the weary and heavy laden to come to
Him.
Fearful of the effect of such a disclosure upon
Mr. Chamberlain, and unwilling that any pre¬
cipitate action on their part should interfere with
Marcia's return to duty, Mrs. Chamberlain shut
up the trying secret for the present in her own
bosom; but accident soon revealed to the father
what the mother dared not communicate.
A SCHOOL FOR FROTF.STAKT CHILDREN. 247
Returning Lome one evening, earlier than
usual, a little before lie reached the Roman
Catholic church, Mr. Chamberlain saw a lady
descend the steps. Could that be Marcia? It
was certainly her air and step. In a moment
she was joined by a priest, who shook her cordially
by the hand. Mr. Chamberlain relaxed his steps,
and for a few moments they spoke; then the
lady pursued her way. Mr. Chamberlain followed.
There was no longer uncertainty, it teas Marcia,
and Oh, what a rush of conflicting feelings came
with that certainty!
The walk home gave him time to reflect, and
overtaking Marcia as she entered the door, he
laid his hand upon her. " Is this you, Marcia?"
" Oh, how you frightened me, father!"
" No wonder," said her father; " I could
scarcely believe it was you."
The stern but nervous tone left Marcia no
room to doubt that she had been observed.
" Step in here," he continued, as she would
have passed on to her own room, " I have some¬
thing to say to you. Be seated," as she still
stood; and Mr. Chamberlain was glad to avail
himself of his daughter's embarrassment to
calm his own agitation, for he was much affected
at this discovery of disobedience and insincerity
248
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
in one of liis children, and that one Marcia, his
joy and pride.
"Did you know that priest at the convent?"
" I never saw him there."
" Then how did you become acquainted with
him?"
Marcia was silent.
" Speak, Marcia—your father has the right to
know : speak the truth ! I could once have trusted
your word,"said Mr. Chamberlain, bitterly ; "how
did you become acquaiuted with that priest ?"
Marcia gave no answer.
" It is useless longer to dissemble. If you do
not answer, I shall learn the facts from others."
Thus urged, Marcia admitted that she was in¬
structed to go to him before leaving the Convent.,
as information concerning her would be sent him.
" And he encourages you in this clandestine
course ? Are you a Roman Catholic ?"
Marcia reluctantly admitted that she was.
" Does Lucy know of it?"
"No."
" And you have practised a deliberate decep¬
tion upon your parents and your sister. This is
the religion you have learned. Can you think
this is acceptable service to the God of truth and
holiness? It is, however, only what might be
expected from such teachers."
A SCHOOL FOP. TBOTESTANT CHILDREN. 249
"If you thought so, why did you place us
there?" said the daughter.
Mr. Chamberlain saw his inconsistency, and
in his turn was silent. The love of the father
and the pride of the man held fierce struggle in
his breast; his better nature triumphed — he
would humble himself, and try to save his child.
" I did wrong, my child, and may God forgive
me the sin of weighing the welfare of my chil¬
dren against any worldly considerations. I
bitterly repent it: do not add to my distress the
afflicth™ knowledge that I have caused your ruin.
I trusted foolishly to your good sense to keep
you ; I could not indeed realize that those people
were so treacherous, when they promised not to
interfere with your faith."
" They believe," said Marcia, stubbornly, " that
there is no salvation out of the Catholic Church,
—can you blame them for trying to save souls ?"
" If they propose to proselyte the Protestant
pupils, why do they deny it?"
" How many Protestants do you think they
would have," said Marcia, " if they advertised
that they would endeavor to make Catholics of
them?"
" But nothing can be more false and treach¬
erous than the course you advocate, Marcia; it
is contrary to fair dealing; it is to disregard all
250
THE AMEIUCAN CONVENT AS
faith between man and man, as well as all rever¬
ence due to the authority of parents. Have you
learned already to advance the pernicious maxim,
' that the end sanctifies the means'? Oh, fatal
.infatuation! to trust the word of a Komanist
where the Church is concerned! Tell me,
Marcia," he continued, determined to go to the
bottom of this deception, " what was the text of
the discourse yesterday? You used never to
neglect to repeat it."
" I do not remember it now."
"The subject, then?"
Still Marcia's memory was at fault.
" The subject of the morning's reading, or the
portion ol' Scripture," continued the father.
No item could Marcia recall.
" I have heard," said Mr. Chamberlain, " that
the priests counsel their people to stuff their ears
when they are required to be present at Protes¬
tant services. Have you practised that decep¬
tion upon me ?"
Marcia colored deeply, but said nothing.
" Then I am to infer that you have. Do you
think that justifiable ?"
"If I Could not otherwise avoid Protestant
teaching."
Mr. Chamberlain bowed his head in agony.
" Oh, Marcia, Marcia! liemember how you
A SCHOOL FOli rEOTESTANT CHILDKEN. 251
once scorned to pra-ctise the least measure of
hypocrisy ! Can you not see, my child, how false
and subtle must be that system, professedly
religious, which can thus treacherously ensnare a
young girl, and teach her, as its first lessons, to
conceal her perversion from her family, and
while receiving tokens of the trusting love of her
parents, to prepare for tliem a cup of sorrow
such as this'?"
" There is a higher authority than that of
parents," said Marcia.
" God has set none between His authority and
that of the parent," said the father.
" But He has delegated His authority to the
priest."
" Where in the Bible, Marcia, do you find that
God has placed the priest between the parent
and child?"
" There are other authorities besides the
Bible," persisted Marcia.
" Yes, with those who ' teach for doctrines the
commandments of men.' Think, Marcia, of your
mother, and give up these fancies; let us be as
we once were, except that we live nearer to God,
and He will lead us into all truth. Will you not,
my child?"
No answer.
" Speak some word of hope, that you are will-
252
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
ing to yield, if convinced that you have hastily
embraced false religious views ? I have not
entered upon doctrinal arguments. I only ask
you to listen to our pastor. Those priests may
have palmed upon you many things for truth of
which one so young could not possibly judge."
But Marcia did not wish to listen to her
pastor, and now that the device of stopping her
ears was discovered, she would neither consent
to go to church nor be present at family prayers;
and Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, with heavy
hearts, consented to her absence, as, should her
wishes in these things be disregarded, she
announced her intention of becoming a nun as
soon as she attained her majority.
CHAPTER XTTT.
Vacation had commenced. The pupils were
all gone with the exception of Helen and two or
three others, with whom she had little intercourse.
She had watched with sadness the many de¬
partures, and the desolate feeling that came over
her made her regret that she too was not going.
Helen was nearly eighteen. She had finished her
last session at school, and it had been Judge
Burton's intention to take her travelling with
him as usual, during the summer: but her directors
had not yet succeeded in infusing completely in
her mind the spirit of their system, and had,
besides, designs which rendered it inexpedient
to trust her at this time from their immediate
supervision; and through the urgent entreaties of
Mother Cherubina and Sister Catherine, her
consent was gained to remain with them during
the vacation, an arrangement in which the weak
father, wrought on by the persuasive powers of
22
254
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
the Mistress-General, reluctantly concurred, when
he visited his daughter a short time previ¬
ously. The household thus diminished, pro¬
gressed with its wonted regularity : no expedient
was omitted which could make the time pass
pleasantly to Helen. Many encomiums were
passed on the sacrifice of her inclinations, and
every possible indulgence was extended to her;
but now, to the many eulogiums on the virtue of
embracing a religious life, to which' she was
accustomed, and to the hints she had received of
her peculiar fitness for a " holy vocation," were
added gentle reminders of her duty to give her¬
self to God " as the spouse of Christ." Often
had Helen heard her fond father expatiate on his
loneliness, and the happiness he anticipated in
having her with him again; and in her singleness
of purpose, she had thought her duties as a
daughter entirely compatible with her duty to
God. When therefore Sister Catherine first
ventured to speak personally and urgently to her
on the subject, she simply stated her father's
wishes, and considered that matter settled; but
far from being satisfied, the nun only learned a
lesson of caution.
In connection with the Convent, but entirely
separated from the school department, was a
building designated as the " Monastery," in which
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 255
a large number of nuns, sometimes more than a
hundred, resided, leading lives of greater seclu¬
sion than those employed in teaching.
This Monastery the nuns of the school were
now about to enter, going, as they term it, into
" Retreat," in accordance with a rule of their or¬
der, which requires every member to pass some
period of each year in strict seclusion, during
which time they are supposed to give themselves
entirely to the duties of religion. Among the
means for promoting that object, a rigid silence
is enjoined on those practising the rule, " and
many other such like things they do," " which
things have indeed a show of wisdom in will-wor¬
ship and humility, and neglecting of the body,"
but are nowhere inculcated or encouraged by
our Lord.
Helen was to be one of the company now going
into " Retreat," and a few days previous, Sister
Catherine entered the little room appropriated
to her protegee, and handing her a volume, said,
" Here, Helen, is the life of an American Saint,
which Father has sent you. It happens
that I do not know the particulars of her life, for
it has but lately been translated into English "
(and Sister Catherine was not learned in the lan¬
guages), " but I shall make myself acquainted
with them as soon as you have done with it. I
256
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
do not doubt you will find in the blessed St. Rose
of Lima, a model worthy of your imitation."
Helen received it eagerly—a new hope sprang
up in her heart—an American saint! Surely she
should now find something more congenial to her
mind than the gross and distorted narratives she
had studied, and with which, in spite of her rev¬
erence for " authority," she was forced to acknowl¬
edge, she could feel no sympathy.
" It will, however," added the nun, " be an act
of piety very proper at this time, to abstain from
looking at it until after you have entered on the
religious exercises at the Monastery."
" I have nothing to do," suggested Helen,
" and you say it is a good book."
" An excellent book, indeed," said the Sister,
" it comes well recommended ; but remember, my
child, acts of self-renunciation like this cannot
fail to obtain for you the favor of God. To pun¬
ish ourselves, my dear, is to honor God."
Helen had never read the words of the Chris¬
tian philosopher, " The Lord holds in his hand
the cup of affliction, and pours out of it, when,
and as much as he willbut they accorded well
♦with the judicious blending of love and discipline
to which she was accustomed during her mother's
life, and this contriving of crosses, which she
heard so much extolled, and saw practised in
A SCHOOL FOR I>ROTESTANT CHILDREN. 257
the Convent, was a source of painful exercise to
her mind; lier habits of obedience and the re¬
serve of her character, however, often deceived
her directors as to the effects of-their instruc¬
tions, and now, without gainsaying Sister Cathe¬
rine, she laid aside the book until the appointed
time, when she again took it up. She glanced
at the prefaces, of which there were two, one to
the American edition, and the other to the Eng¬
lish, by the translator, E. W. Faber. She read
in the latter: "Catholic readers who may not
have been in the habit of reading the lives of the
Saints, and especially, ' the authentic process of
the Congregation of Sacred Rites,' may be a lit¬
tle startled with the life of £St. Rose." * * *
" The judiciousness of publishing in England,
what are actually classical works of piety in
Catholic countries, is a question which the result
alone will decide, and that possibly at no distant
date. All that need be said here, is that it has
not been done in haste, in blindness, or in heed¬
lessness, but after grave counsel and with high
sanctio?!."
The inexperienced mind of Helen gathered lit¬
tle from these and similar significant paragraphs,
and she passed eagerly to the history of her pro¬
posed model. Rose was born in Lima, the capital
of Peru, in 1586, christened Isabel, " but three
258 THE AHEItlCAN CONVENT AS
monl'hs after, her mother and several other per¬
sons, seeing a beautiful rose depicted on her face,
while asleep, they called her by no other name
than Hose, which name the Archbishop of Lima
gave her in confirmation ; but she, fearing this
might bo the effect of vanity in her parents, was
niuoli di.barbed about it, and went before a sta¬
tue of tf.A Blessed Virgin to make known her un¬
easiness. " Our blessed Lady," says the veracious
historian, " immediately consoled her, assuring
her the name of Lose was pleasing to her Son
Jesus Christ, and that as a mark of her affection
she would also honor her with her own name, and
that henceforth she should be called Rose of St.
Marj. So that of all the saints whose names
God Almighty has changed by extraordinary
favor, our blessed Hose is the first, and perhaps,
the only one, whose surname has also been
changed by heaven." Passing over many miracles
during infancy,"at the age of five years she con¬
secrated to Jesus Christ, irrevocably and by vow,
her virginal purity, by the promise she gave him
never to have any other spouse but him alone."
" She preserved her baptismal innocence till her
death."
" One of the stratagems she practised in order
to avoid accompanying her mother in the visits she
paid to her Mends and relatives was to rub her
A SCHOOL FOE PROTESTANT CHILLEEN. 259
eyelids with pimento, which is a very sharp sort
of Indian pepper." Eose not being able to pre¬
vent young men from falling in love with her,
invented all sorts of means to disfigure herself.
" She made herself pale and livid with fasting.
She sought to destroy her delicate white com¬
plexion—she washed her hands in hot lime to
take the skin off them, and to prevent others
from feeling any pleasure to which the sight of
her might give rise. She shut herself up and
went out but very seldom, once remaining four
years without leaving tliehouse. Notwithstanding
all these precautions she was not able to prevent
several persons from seeking her in marriage.
Nothing seemed so delicious to Eose as suffering.
She sprinkled her food with sheep's gall, and
washed her mouth with it every morning. She
was known to make a moderate sized loaf and a
pitcher of water last her fifty days. She re¬
mained seven weeks without drinking a drop of
water or other liquor. She once passed eight
days without any food only the bread of angels,
which she received in the holy communion."
" When necessity compelled her to take a little
water to assuage the burning heat which con¬
sumed her, she took it warm, to mortify sensual¬
ity in the pleasure she might have felt from
drinking cold water."
2G0
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
With iron chains and other instruments ot
penance, she practised such terrible austerities
that her confessors were obliged to restrict her
in the use of them. " After she became a nun,
she was not content with a common sort of dis¬
cipline ; she made for herself two iron chains,
with which she gave herself such blows every
night, that her blood sprinkled the walls and
made a stream in the middle of the rotfm, so
prodigious a quantity did she draw from her
veins." This discipline touched with pity those
who were in the house, and " her confessor com¬
manded her to use moderation: she obeyed, but
begged so earnestly, that he could not refuse her
the permission to take five thousand more stripes
in the course of three or four days."
" She rubbed herself with nettles, making her
body an entire blister, and with thorns which
entered deep into the flesh and drew the blood ;
she wore a hair shirt armed underneath with
needles to increase her excessive pain by this
ingenious cruelty." "She exposed the soles of
her feet to a hot oven, and kept them there till
the pain of her lialf-roasted feet quite overcame
her." She was a delicate creature, and numer¬
ous attacks of illness gave her plenty of occasion
of natural suffering.
" What astonishes us," continues her biogra-
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTAKT CHILDREN. 261
pher, " in lier conduct is, that she suspended the
interior joy with which Almighty God favored
lier in her greatest sufferings, for fear that this
spiritual sweetness might extend to her body,
and that by making it participate in the delight
of her soul, her insupportable sufferings might
be softened. We may say that her pains were
unmixed with any consolation." To copy the,
thorny crown of Cln-ist she made herself a crown
of pewter, studded with little sharp-pointed nails;
she put it generously on her bead' without fear¬
ing the pain it would inevitably cause her. She
wore it several years, but only as a preparation
for a more cruel one, in which she fixed ninety-
nine iron points ; she wore this during the ten
last years of her life." * * * " Tearing that
lier hair, which was beginning to grow, would
prevent these points from entering in, she cut it
all off, excepting a handful, which she left on her
forehead, to hide this penitential crown from the
eyes of men. * * * To increase the pain she
changed every day the place of this crown, caus¬
ing new wounds, or re-opening those which were
beginning to heal. * * * Her mother and
the rest of the family did not perceive this rrotcn
for a long time, nor her endeavors to hide it from
their view. * * * Every time that the devil
tempted her, she pressed this crown three times
262 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
on her head with her finger, in honor of the most
holy Trinity; and this mortification made
her always victorious over his attacks." " After
her death a great servant of God kissing respect¬
fully this instrument of penance, felt himself
interiorly inflamed with the love of God, and
was at the same time perfumed with a heavenly
odor, which was a sign to him that Almighty God
had accepted this new sort of torture, which the
blessed Itose had invented to mortify herself."
" The blessed Rose had read in the life of St.
Catherine of Sienna, her dear mistress, that
Jesus Christ had raised this seraphic lover to so
great a degree of glory and favor, that He
espoused her solemnly in the presence of the
Blessed Virgin, St. Dominic, and of several other
saints. Though the love she bore to the same
Divine Saviour made leer sigh after the enjoyment
of a similar grace, the consciousness of her own
misery and nothingness kept her in such pro¬
found humility, that she icould have thought it a
crime to liarhor the thought, or to favor a single
desire of it; and this very humility, which made
her judge herself unworthy of it, was the pre¬
cious portion which captivated the heart of the
Son of God, and induced Him to honor her in a
similar manner." " He disposed her for this
divine alliance bv miracles." * * * " She
A SCHOOL FOE EEOTESTANT CHILDEEN. 2GS
seemed" to liear an interior voice saying, with
great sweetness, ' Rose, my beloved, give me thy
heartas if Jesus Christ wished her to under¬
stand by this enigmatical representation, that
He would give her His heart in exchange for
hers, and renew in her person the miracle He
had formerly performed in favor of St. Catherine
of Sienna, when he took away her heart, in order
to put His own in its place."
" One night, when the blessed Rose was
absorbed in contemplation, Jesus Christ appeared
to her as a most beautiful man, and told her with
a smiling countenance, that she was an object of
His love ; and after this delightful assurance, He
showed her an almost innumerable troop of
virgins, resplendent with brightness, who were
occupied in sawing and cutting marble, and He
invited her to join the number of these chaste
spouses, whom she saw employed in this hard
labor. She began to consider in her mind this
scene, which ravished her with admiration, and
at the same instant, she saw herself covered with
a mantle woven of gold and precious stones, and
she was placed in the company of these happy
virgins." * * *
While she was soliciting by her tears the
pardon of a slight negligence she had committed,
"she saw that tire Blessed Virgin had a smiling
2Gi THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
countenance ; and that, after having looked upon
her graciously, she turned to speak to her Son,
and, as if she had received from Him a favorable
answer to her request, she turned her eyes again
towards the blessed Hose, as if to congratulate
with her on the happiness to which she was
going to be raised. Our Saint, transported with
a secret joy, which she did not usually feel, raised
her eyes to look at the Son of God, who, looking
at her again, caused a torrent of delight to flow
into the soul of this chaste lover, and said to her
these tender and loving words: ' Hose of my
heart, I take thee for My spouse.' " * * *
" As her humility, however, made her still appre¬
hend some delusion in this grace of which she
judged herself very unworthy, Jesus Christ, to
give her confidence, graciously confirmed to her
the truth of the alliance he had contracted with
her in the presence of His holy mother." * * *
" When a learned man who directed her, urged
her to declare to him what gift her heavenly
Spouse had bestowed on her as the pledge of
His love and their alliance, she confessed that
she was not possessed of eloquence sufficient to
express the magnificent liberality which God
had exercised in her regard, without considering
her unwortliiness." * * * " Several persons
of known sanctity saw her enter heaven, with a
A SCHOOL Km PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 2 fin
palm in lier hand, and a crown resplendent with
light on her head, which our Blessed Lady had
placed there, to acknowledge by this favor the
service she had rendered her."
The writer has endeavored to give some fair
specimens of a book, every page of which contains
similar statements, set forth for the admiration
and imitation of American women, and which, in
the note to the American edition, speaks devoutly
of the saints who have "worshipped the same
immaculate Virgin Mother, said the same beads
in her honor, and that of her Beloved, and
practised the same devotions " as the Catholics of
the present day. If Helen was disappointed in
one respect, there was yet a fascination in the
volume, which ensured its entire perusal. It was
the fascination of horror. She had not indeed
read " the authentic process," and Sister Cath¬
erine had doubtless exercised all her discrim¬
ination in the selection of the models she had
exhibited to her hitherto, with very partial
success; but here was related, with infinite gusto
by the author and translator, a series of self-
inflicted tortures which must have incapacitated
any one for usefulness,besides numerous disorders
to which Hose was, by her delicate nature,
subject from infancy to death, and yet in another
connection, it was affirmed she performed more
23
mi
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
active labors for her family and the Church thail
it is possible for a person in health to do : and
yet again, that she spent twelve hours of the day
in religious exercises, and often remained in the
same position on her knees for several days
together, refusing even to lean against the
slightest support.
Such glaring ccntrachctions, such disgusting
self-mutilations, such sensual exhibitions of the
Lord Jesus, shocked alike Helen's sense of truth
and her notions of holy things ; and disciplined
and perverted as her mind had been to receive
the teachings of those in authority, she could only
feel with regard to St. Rose, pity that any one
who desired to serve God should have been so
misguided, and indignation that His gifts should
have been so despised and abused, instead of
being used to His glory.
> Debarred from conversation, with little save
reiterated forms to occupy her, the thoughts
suggested by the narrative continued to occupy
her ; and far from being willing to adopt the
American saint as her model, the conclusion of
the " Retreat" found her in a more unhappy
state of mind than before. The restraints of
that season being removed, Sister Catherine lost
no time in interrogating her pupil as to the
result, and particularly as regarded her study ol
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 267
tlie Saint, for in the mean time she had made
herself acquainted, as she had proposed, "with
" the blessed St. Rose," and perhaps felt some
misgivings about having given Helen this
" classical ivorlc of piety." Being thus closely
questioned, Helen, with her usual simplicity, and
with more than her usual freedom, stated some
of her difficulties. Disconcerted at the un¬
expected boldness of expression, distressed and
irritated by objections she could not satisfactorily
answer, the nun reproached her pupil for want
of faith, and then, after making vehement appeals
to the warm-hearted and motherless girl, she
drew from her legendary store pictures more
suited, as she thought, to captivate her imagi¬
nation, and did not leave her until the web of
thought, so laboriously and skilfully woven over
her mind, and so rudely broken through the
priest's mistake, again spread its meshes of error
in fair and promising proportions.
A few days after Sister Catherine encountered
Helen, as she passed hastily to her room, and
a glance at her face revealed such an expression
of anguish that the nun followed her. Helen
stood, flushed and excited; no tear moistened
her eyes, but they flashed as Sistei Catherine
had never seen them before.
"What has happened, daughter?" using the
268
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
endearing name she often gave to Helen, as she
drew her to her. "Has any one injured you?"
Helen was silent.
" Will you not tell me, dear ?"
" Don't ask me,—I can tell no one," said Helen,
bursting into tears, as she relaxed under the
affectionate caresses of the Sister.
" Some misunderstanding, I think," resumed
the Sister, " which most probably I can explain.
Was it at confession?"
" No one can explain it," exclaimed the ex¬
cited girl, " I want no explanation ! I shall never
go to confession again."
" Say not set, daughter ; this will pass off—you
have misunderstood something, doubtless. Speak
not so of holy penance! Without it you can
make no progress in holiness. Penance, I may
say, is the life of the soul, since to it, says the
Catechism, belongs in so special a manner the
efficacy of blotting out sins, that without it
we cannot by any means obtain, or even hope
for remission of sins."*
Helen was silent.
" Yes, my child," continued the Sister, " it
further says, ' the voice of the priest pardoning
our sins, is to be heard, even as that of Christ
the Lord, who said to the paralytic, 'Son, thy
* Catechism of the Council of Trent—See article Penance.
A SCHOOL FOH FKOTESTANT CHILDREN. 209
sins be forgiven thee.' The absolution pro¬
nounced in the words of tlie priest, signifies the
remission of sins whicli it accomplishes in the
soul. There is no crime which the sacrament of
penance does not remit."*
" So I have heard," answered Helen, indigna¬
tion again taking the place of fear, " that it can
make even that good and holy against tvhicli ah
virtue revolts."
Her intense excitement however gradually sub¬
sided under the soothing and affectionate expla¬
nations of Sister Catherine ; but that person, not
willing to trust so important a crisis to her own
powers of persuasion, sought the assistance of the
Superior, aud it was not long before that lady, in
an interview with the insulted girl, sought to give
tlie affair the same interpretation. "It is simply
impossible, my child," she said, "that the priest
could have meant otherwise than right: you have
been deceived. The enemy of souls has in some
way perverted his words to you ; and to discon¬
tinue confession would be to fall into his snares :
however, my love, if you choose, you shall go to
Father Mayhew, and I advise you to go speedily,
lest Satan get the advantage over you in this little
matterand with many tender expressions of re¬
gard, and directions to mention to no one any
* Catechism of the Council of Trent—See article Penance.
270
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
misunderstanding at confession, since it is a mor¬
tal sin to disclose anything which there takes
place, Helen was dismissed. Her abhorrence of
the confessional, however, continued such as to
resist both the importunities of her directors and
the superstitious notions she had imbibed of its
necessity; but under the perpetual conflict of
mind, her fragile frame sank, the delicate limbs
lost their rotundity, the faint flush left her cheek,
and with languid step, she took her daily exercise
ir. company with the ever vigilant Sister Cathe¬
rine.
But Sister Catherine was to bo absent for a
short time, and during her absence, the special
oversight of Helen was delegated to Sister An¬
gelica, who, not so well acquainted with the
idiosyncracies of her charge as was her pre¬
decessor, and not possessing her tenderness and
humility, often exercised her temporary authority
in a manner offensive to Helen, who quietly sought
relief from her society in walks which she was
sometimes now permitted to make alone in the
grounds. It was in one of these excursions, when
Helen, sick in body and spirit, stopped to rest
her wearied limbs in a retired spot near which
was a little gate communicating with the Mon¬
astery, and through which messages were often
made. She sat, lost in painful thought.
A SCHOOL l'OJi fBOTESTANT CHILDREN. 271
"Oh, it was pitiful to see her there,
So strangely silent, with her sunny hair
Around the face so innocent and pale ;
The slender hands, like gathered lily-hells,
Folded above the young heart's aching cells.".
Hearing footsteps, she raised her ejes and saw
passing her a nun whom she had occasionally
remarked as an inmate of the Monastery, and
whose earnest gaze she had sometimes noticed
directed at her. She had asked Sister Catherine
about her, but received no satisfactory informa¬
tion ; her name she said was Sister Agnes, and
she had not been there very long. Meeting her
thus suddenly, Helen was surprised to observe
the rapid decline visible in her face in the short
time which had elapsed since she saw her, a
surprise shared perhaps by the other at the
si "lit of Helen's wasted figure. Helen rose, and
respectfully saluting her, inquired if she had
been ill.
" Not more so than usual, but my rest is near.
And you look pale and thin—have you been
sick?"
"Not sick, but every day I feel weaker, I
know not why."
The nun scanned, with her lustrous eyes, the
pale young face before her, and then she spoke:
" Have you a mother ?"
272
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
" No," said Helen, " my dear mother lias been
dead nearly five years."
" Poor child! jnst when you needed her tho
most. Was she a Catholic ?"
" No—but she was very pious."
" Then how came you here ?"
" My father thought it best to place me here."
" Is he a Catholic ?"
" No."
"Then you do indeed belong to my own
people," said the nun, drawing neaier, and tak¬
ing Helen's hand in her own ; " I felt so drawn
to you when I saw you in the Monastery, and
your sweet face has been so often before me
since. Have you well considered the step you
are about to take t"
" What step ? I do not know to what you
allude."
" I have heard you were to become a nun." *
" No—my father would never consent to that,
I am sure."
" Do you desire it ?"
" I scarcely know,—-I feel so unhappy; and
sometimes I think that, as Sister Catherine says,
I shall not find the comfort of religion until I
bind myself to a life of seclusion; but then my
father's wishes"
"The wishes of parents are obstacles easily
A SCHOOL FOE ritOTESTANT CHLLDEEN. 273
overcome here," the imn interrupted, in a tone
which left Helen in doubt as to her meaning;
and she remarked, "You said I belonged to
your own people : were you a Protestant ?"
" I cannot tell you now, dear child," she re¬
plied, after some deliberation. " I cannot stop
longer, but I shall be employed with the Mis¬
tress-General for several days, and if you can
come to this place to-morrow alone, I will try to
meet you as I return to the Monastery, at this
time, and I will tell you what may be of service
to youand receiving Helen's promise, she
went on her way through the little gate.
A vague hope of relief, as well as the interest
she felt in the stranger, kept Helen's thoughts
busy, and she waited with anxiety for the time
she might hope to meet her. She was promptly
at the place, where she was shortly joined by
Sister Agnes, who drew her to a still more
secluded spot, and having satisfied herself by
some questioning of Helen's state of mind, she
said, " I have thought more than ever about
you, since our accidental meeting yesterday,
which indeed I trust was providential for your
good. I see," she continued, with a deep sigh,
" far better than you can, the dangers of your
situation, and I do not know how 1 can warn
you so well as by telling you some particulars of
274
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
my own life, which will answer your question of
yesterday and then, in a less connected man¬
ner, in this and another interview which they
had, she gave Helen, in substance, the following
narrative.
SISTER AGNES' STORY.
" My mother was a widow before I can remem¬
ber, and I being her only child, her affections
were lavishly bestowed upon me. Daily she
prayed for me I know, and often with me, and
by many means she tried to lead me in the way
of life; but her fondness often overcame her
better judgment, and I was permitted to do
many things for the simple reason that my dear
mother could not refuse me. I was a strong-
willed child, and as I grew up, exercised more
and more influence over her in things that con¬
cerned myself, for in such as related to her own
manner of life, she had firmness to maintain her¬
self against my whims. Her means being very
scanty, she used the utmost personal economy,
and added something to her small income by
sewing, for her desire was to educate me for a
teacher, and to this object all her little savings
were dedicated. I was an ambitious girl, and
not without good abilities, and at nineteen I was
thought competent to take a place as teacher with
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 275
a remunerative salary, and I was happy in being
able to add many comforts to our humble home,
and relieve my mother from the necessity of
labor, for her health had long been delicate. 1
loved her much, but with the selfish love of the
natural heart. It was a pleasure to mo to pro¬
vide for her wants, but I was too wilful to be
guided by her advice or to sacrifice my own
inclinations to what I knew would give her
happiness.
" She was a devout member of the Episcopal
Church, and her daily life evidenced both the
excellence of its teachings and the sincerity of
her professions. Brought up as I had been, my
mind was well enough acquainted with its sim¬
ple and scriptural doctrines, but my heart
remained untouched. I was invited by some
young girls with whom I associated to accom¬
pany them to Church, where Dr. min¬
istered, and my fancy was so greatly taken with
his manner of conducting the service as well as
with his florid style of preaching, that I was quite
enthusiastic in my admiration. I insisted that
my mother should also go and hear him, and
she did so once, but could never be persuaded to
repeat the visit; while week after week I de¬
clined accompanying her to our own church that
276
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A3
I might gratify my love of novelty in listening to
Dr. .
" In reply to her gentle remonstrances, I urged
the frequent services at Church, the obser¬
vance of all the saints' days, the frequent cele¬
bration of the communion, &c., as tending to keep
religious feeling active. Ah, I well remember
the deep, low sigh which I know was a prayer
for her wayward child, for she could not but feel
that there was little of real religion manifested
in the life of one so engrossed with its forms. I
had not then learned how deep the soul may be
sunk in sin while the body performs all the self-
imposed austerities of the wildest fanaticism, in
the name of religion. I had not then realized
the Apostle's meaning when he said, ' Though I
give my body to be burned, and have not
charity, it profiteth me nothing.'
" At Church the desire of my companions
and myself for the sentimental and ritualistic was
for a while fully satisfied. Of the Gospel, it is
true, we heard but little, but the Church and its
ceremonies took its place ; we did not understand
exactly what was meant, but Dr. 's lan¬
guage was beautiful, and all was grand and mys¬
tical : our senses were fascinated, and the more
scope was left for the imagination. Dr. 's
discourses on the mysterious and miraculous
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 277
nature of the Lord's Supper, whatever subtle
distinctions he may have drawn in his own mind,
conveyed to us nothing less than that in the
Eucharist we received the transubstantiated body
and blood of our Lord. We were not slow to
accept this new development, and so infatuated
were we, that, not satisfied with receiving the
sacred elements on communion days at that
church, we ran from church to church that we
might the oftener press them with our lips. His
sermons on the virtue and advantage of celibacy
and seclusion filled us with romantic notions of
consecrating ourselves to God in such a life, but
here we were brought to a stand. There were
no Protestant institutions to receive us.
" I visited my pastor and told him frankly his
sermons had awakened in me desires the Church
offered no means of satisfying; he answered,
' it was true the Church seemed incomplete in her
provisions, but he hoped, ere long, opportunity
would be made for her to profit by the holy as¬
pirations of her members.' I said the Church of
Pome had been more considerate, but as I knew
little of her, I would like to have his opinion of
her soundness. He answered, ' Rome had, in¬
deed, much to admire and much to imitate ; she
was an erring sister, yet still a sister ;' and then he
spoke gently of her faults, so gently that I thought
2i
278
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
lie scarcely believed what he said, and I conclud¬
ed there could be no harm in judging for myself;
so I went with one of my companions to a Roman
Catholic church. We were soon noticed and be¬
came acquainted with a priest, who found us well
disposed to his teaching. It was thus, you see,
that he who should have preached life to me,
handed me over to death.
" The instruction was short. My companion
was a beautiful, intelligent girl, and I myself had
at the time the opportunity of a good marriage
which would have placed my mother in ease and
myself in a happy and respectable position; but
I was infatuated, and with the basest ingratitude
I was induced to leave my poor mother, and em¬
brace a religious life, as they called it. What a
mockery of words ! I truly thought I was doing
God service. I look back on this period not
only with the deepest anguish and remorse, but
with the greatest astonishment, that one blessed
as I had been with light and knowledge, could
have had her reason and conscience so per¬
verted ; and yet mine is by no means a solitary
instance."
The nun paused, overcome by bitter memories.
" My novitiate passed, during which all was
pleasant and attractive ; my imagination was
kept perpetually inflamed, and I was taught to
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 270
consider such a state of mind as one of high
devotion. I took the veil, refusing to see my
mother, at the instigation of my director, lest
feelings of tenderness should interfere with my
entire consecration of heart to God. I was
promised that I should see her afterwards, but
obstacles were always interposed. I took irre¬
vocable vows. I never saw her more. A short
time sufficed to end her sorrows, and I was told
she was dead. Then came my awakening, too
late, too late! I felt that I was her murderer.
I now recognized my vile ingratitude, as I had
already begun to realize the emptiness and false¬
ness of the religion for which I had sacrificed
her. My soul loathed the idol I had worshipped.
I neglected the services, I objected to the slavish
devotion to the Virgin required of us, and from
which my mind had always revolted, refused
to conform to other superstitious practices, and
became suspected, despised, and persecuted.
" I was withdrawn from the position of teacher
in the convent where I had filled one of the first
places, and sent to another convent, and finally
to this place, where I fill menial offices. I do not
complain—it is the result of my own folly: it is a
just retribution. I have not tokl you all, nor
would I, by lifting the veil which hides the secrets
of conventual life, sully the purity of your mind ;
280 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
but Oh ! let me entreat you, take warning from
me. Tou desire to serve God ; seek His will in
His word. Who can teacli it so well ? Serve
Him in the position in which His Providence has
placed you, and enter not a state which will
surely lead you to sin instead of holiness. Avoid
the confessional, if you would preserve your
mind uncontaniinated by evil suggestions. Let
no one persuade you to act against your father's
wishes. Remember the precept, ' Honor thy
father and thy mother,' and see in me the
unhappy consequences of disregarding it. I
have spoken to you out of the fulness of my
heart, things hard for me to say, but if I can
save an immortal soul I do not regret bringing
shame on myself.
" I am not thirty years old. In this world I
have no hope; this cough and the burning in
my breast tell me I shall soon leave this vile
body, and I have a hope that I shall go to her
whom my ingratitude has sent before me; but it
is not the pressing of the body of Christ with
the teeth, nor fasting, nor flagellations, nor
giving myself to the cloister, that will be my
passport there, but faith in ' the blood of Christ
which cleanseth from all sin.'"
" Why do you not leave this place ?" said
A SCHOOL LOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 281
Helen, wlio had listened with absorbing interest
to the narrative.
" Your question shows how little you know of
the difficulties which surround you when once
immured in a convent. There was a time when
I too conceived such an alternative, and I spoke
of my dissatisfaction to the Bishop. ' Why do
you stay here,' he said, ' if your heart is else¬
where ?' ' I only wait your permission to
withdraw,' I answered ; and then he 'said, ' Now
that you are professed in a convent, and it is
impossible for you to leave it; tell me what do you
wish to do ? If you have embraced religion (i. e
become a nun), you must now remain with cheer¬
fulness. If you abandon yourself to melancholy
you must lead a life of misery, and will expose
yourself to great danger of suffering a hell here,
and another hereafter. You must make a virtue
of necessity.'* So you see I have no hope of es¬
cape. I have no near relatives, and if I had,
how should I ask them to receive such a one as
I? ■ I know not what may befall this vile body, .
but the soul is beyond the power of human con¬
trol ; and now I must speak quickly : it is for your
welfare I venture these interviews. My duties
lately have kept me much about the Mother, and
I know, from what I have accidentally heard,
* This is no fictitious answer, but the words of the Bishop.
282
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
that it is expected that you will shortly enter as
a novice. I have known more than one young
girl kept here until she was eighteen that she
might assume vows in defiance of parental
authority."
Helen, absorbed in thought, scarcely noticed
that Sister Agnes had ceased to speak.
" What shall I do ?" she at length asked.
" Look to God for help. I have found Him a
refuge in time of trial; how else should I have
borne the years of remorse ? I have no Bible,
of course; that holy book is here replaced by
the breviary, but thanks to the earnest teaching
of my dear mother and the Sunday-school, my
mind is stored with many passages and precious
promises which have been to me as beacons in
the dark places through which I have passed.
Wielded by the Spirit of God, they have upheld
me through seasons of trial which might else
have dethroned my reason. Your mother, no
doubt, taught you some Bible truths, and prayed
for your eternal salvation," she continued, look¬
ing pityingly on the fragile girl before her.
" Yes, yes," said Helen, bursting into tears,
" and it was so hard for me to give up my
mother's teaching, but they said it was error."
" I would speak more to you," said the nun,
A SCHOOL FOB FBOTESTAKT CHILDIiEN. 283
" but 1 dare not stop longer now. If possible I
will meet you here again—farewell."
The reflections awakened by the nun's narrative
were not calculated to soothe Helen's mind ; on
the contrary, a new distrust was added to her
former disquietude.
Simply a pupil in the Convent, the child of a
wealthy man, she felt herself as helpless in the
hands of her directors as if a prisoner. She had
written her father of her declining health, but no
answer came, which might indeed be accounted
for by his absence from home, and several weeks
might elapse before she could expect him, should
he not have received her letters.
Driven from one anxiety to another, the day
ended, and Helen, remembering Sister Agnes'
injunction to look to God for help, tried to bring
her troubles to him in the same trusting way she
had been used to in childhood; but her mind was
in such a chaos that she received little consolation
from the effort, and she sought her- couch, hoping
for temporary relief at least in sleep, but in vain ;
her uneasy slumber was disturbed by frightful
dreams, and morning found her in a high fever ;
delirium succeeded, and she knew not how long
she continued in an unconscious state, but when
she recovered, Sister Catherine was there, and
she was assured by her and Mother Cherubina
•284
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
that slie was now in a state of grace, and had
desired and received the sacrament of penance
as well as the eucharist, and that she would
rapidly recover, which happy results had been
brought about, they averred, by the prayers of
Sister Catherine offered to a certain picture of
the Virgin before whom no prayer was made in
vain, and by which she had been miraculously
directed to apply to her a relic highly prized in
the Convent. Mother Cherubina added that
Helen had also expressed the pious wish to pass
the rest of her life in the Convent, which devout
purpose was no less than -w hat was to be expected
after such a signal interposition of the Blessed
Virgin in her behalf.
As Helen's mind gradually took in the sur¬
rounding circumstances, Sister Agnes' recital
recurred to her. Far from feeling that she was
recovering, she had never felt so ill, and the fear
of immediate death took possession of her, adding
a new feature to her misery.
Death indeed she had sometimes thought
would be preferable to the tortures she endured,
but when it really seemed near, she shrank from
its approach with undefined dread. Leaving
her to the care of her cloistered attendants, we
will revert to the movements of Judge Burton.
CHAPTER XIV.
Judge Burton left the city on the business
which he expected to occupy him during a great
part of the summer; he had much wealth, and
therefore many cares, and he wished to get his
distant business arranged so that he might spend
a quiet winter at home with his daughter. He
had taken leave of Mr. Lysle with a pleasant
smile, and an assurance that all would be well
with Helen. He knew that she had united her¬
self to the Roman Catholic Church, for she had
sought and obtained his consent to that meas¬
ure ; yet since it was done, he could not repress
a feeling of regret and annoyance, as often as it
recurred to his mind. He re-assured himself,
however, by the thought that she had every com¬
fort aud care where she was, and that in a brief
period he would have her entirely under his own
influence, when he should doubtless be able to
remove any opinions she might have imbibed
286
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
not in accordance with his own views. In spite
of himself the conversation with Doctor Leightou
and Mr. Lysle had made a deep impression on
him ; lie tried to shake it off by dwelling on his
reasons for placing his daughter in the Convent
and for keeping her there, and especially on the
polished manners of the Lady Superior, and
her affection for Helen, which had been elabor¬
ately displayed on the occasion of his last visit,
but all would not do; the thought of his child
followed him withersoever he went the pale thin
face to which the Mother assured him the recrea¬
tions of vacation would restore the bloom,
haunted him by day and by night. It distracted
him from his business; his anxiety was not re¬
lieved by a single letter, although others were
constantly forwarded to him, and before three
weeks were passed he turned his steps home¬
ward, determined to take Helen with him.
How short-sighted are the purposes of man!
Judge Burton had proceeded only a day's jour¬
ney on his homeward route, when the train on
which he travelled met with one of those melan¬
choly accidents so common in railroad travel,
which precipitate a score of souls into eternity,
and throw as many families into mourning, while
those who escape with broken limbs as memen¬
tos, have too much cause for thankfulness, and
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 287
are too much occupied with their own concerns
to make much inquest into the degree of guilt
incurred by directors or other officials. Judge
Burton was, on this occasion, one of those happy
ones who escaped with only a wound; but that
was on the head, and although it was not pro¬
nounced dangerous, the physician in attendance
declared he would not be answerable for the
consequences should he persist, as he wished to
do, in continuing his journey, and he was thus
compelled to remain for two weeks under treat¬
ment at a small town to which the sufferers had
been taken. At the end of that time the rail¬
road was again put in requisition, and in due
time he found himself once more in the familiar
reception-room of the Convent at , an unex¬
pected guest, but the Superior was there, just
dismissing a visitor. Judge Burton felt too
anxious now to bandy compliments, and the lady
herself seemed, he thought, strangely discon¬
certed.
" I wish to see Helen," he said, after a hasty
salutation.
" I am sorry, but she is not here," replied the
Mistress-General, after a slight hesitation.
" Not here !" exclaimed Judge Burton.
"No, she went yesterday to visit a school¬
mate, and she will be absent several days, so
28'S
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
jou will be deprived of the pleasure of seeing
her on this visit, for I presume, that as usual,
jou are in a hurry; you gentlemen of the world
have so many occupations. But Helen is quite
well, I assure you."
" I wish to see her: give me, if you please,
directions to find her, and I will go there immedi¬
ately."
" O dear! it is too far for you to go.""
" No place is too distant for me to go to see
my child," said the visitor, decidedly; " be
pleased to give me the address."
" I don't know"
" Not know where my daughter, who is under
your care, is gone!" exclaimed the father.
" No—yes, she went yesterday, without my
permission, but I will go and see."
The contradictory statements and the evident
trepidation of the Superior, convinced Judge
Burton that something was wrong, but the last
assertion, he felt assured, was false.
" Tell me instantly where my daughter is,
madam; 1 well know she never left this house
without your permission; prevarication is use¬
less ; wherever she is, I will see her."
So stern and determined now was Judge
Burton's manner, that the Mother, driven from
her subterfuges, answered : " Helen really is a
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 289
little sick, and I thought it best you should not
see her just now; she will very soon be well, I
am sure. Fathers are so easily alarmed."
" Lead the way to her," said Judge Burton.
" Let me go and prepare the child," cried the
Mistress, pathetically, " the surprise will be too
great for her."
" Lead the way, madam !" reiterated the fa¬
ther, in a voice hoarse with excitement and sup¬
pressed indignation.
Thus admonished, she moved to the door, and
Judge Burton followed up-stairs through the
long corridor. She walked now slowly, then
paused irresolutely, and again proceeded, as the
nervous step of her companion came close behind
her.
"Enough of this, madam, delay will not avail;
bring me to my daughter."
With desperate effort the Superior stepped
back and opened the door of a small though
pleasant looking room, and Judge Burton entered.
The noise roused Helen, who lay on the little
couch, and springing up, "My father!" she cried,
as she fell into his extended arms ; but the joyful
surprise was too much for the enfeebled invalid,
and the father unclasped the cold hands and laid
tenderly down the inanimate form from which all
consciousness had fled.
25
2!)U THE AMEEICAN CONVENT AS
" I told you so," exclaimed the Superior; " 1
told you she ought to be prepared."
" Silence !" said Judge Burton, putting aside
the officious hands, as he chafed alternately the
icy fingers and the pulseless temples, and pressed
his lip to the marble brow until the languid eyes
opened and the lips moved with returning
animation.
"Dear father, don't leave me!" she whispered.
" Never, never, my child ! they have murdered
you, there, there "—as he wiped away her tears,
which now flowed freely. " I will take you awav
directly—why have you not let me know of your
illness ?"
" Oh, I have written so often, and got no
answer, that I began to despair."
" How is it, Madam, and for what purpose
have you sought to conceal from me my daughter's
condition ?"
" Indeed I have not, the letters were sent; we
are surely not answerable for the mails. If
letters are lost we are not to blame."
" I see it, I see it all now," said Judge Burton,
and turning again to Helen, his eyes fell on the
hard pallet on which she lay. " Why is it that
my poor sick child, whose wasted limbs need a
bed of down, is put on this miserable pallet ?'
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDBEN. '291
" I did not order it," was tlie answer, " it was
Helen's own choice."
" Yes, father." interposed Helen, " it was my
choice; I would much rather he on this than go
to confession."
" And why should you do either, if you did
not choose?"
Helen was silent.
" I know nothing," said the Lady Superior,
looking deprecatingly on the wrathful father,
" penance is the affair of the priest."
" And where is the priest ?"
" Not here, not here, I assure you; they do
not stay here, there is not one on the place
and the latter assertion was most likely true at
the moment, for Sister Catherine, who had been
present, quickly disappeared, probably to make
known the condition of things.
" Take me home, dear father, and I shall soon
be well; see, I am better already," said Helen,
essaying a smile.
" Yes, darling, we will go."
Judge Burton felt that lie could not trust him¬
self to upbraid the Superior with her treachery ;
as he looked on the anxious face of his daughter
he only thought of how soonest to get her out
of her power. Too weak to stand, he bore her
in his arms, a light burden indeed, to the cai-
T '
292 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
riage in which he had come. Soft pillows were
placed, and wrappings carefully drawn around
the beloved form, and another victim was borne
from St. Margaret's, her soul in such a tu¬
mult of contending feelings as the poor body
was ill able to sustain; and when Judge Burton
looked on the emaciated and almost inanimate
face, he felt as if he were carrying away rather
the corpse than the living form of his daughter.
Whispered farewells and counsels had passed
from the Mother and Sister Catherine to Helen,
but scanty were the compliments made by Judge
Burton, and doubtless the Superior was greatly
relieved as his back was turned on the house
where she presided.
By slow stages Judge Burton at length
reached home with his precious charge; she
was able to speak little, and although she will¬
ingly assumed all the blame and spoke most
affectionately of those she had left, the principle
of truth which had so long baffled their efforts,
prevented her from concealing the realities of
ner situation. The more Judge Burton learned,
the more atrocious he believed their plans, and
his eyes now opened, he saw his folly not only
in placing his daughter in their power, but in
acquainting them with the large fortune she
would have at her own command.
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 293
Tlie doctor's examination resulted in an omi¬
nous shake of the head: but he would give no
decided opinion to the anxious father. A mes¬
sage was hastily dispatched to Mr. Lysle, for
Judge Burton turned, like most other people in
trouble, to those who he felt were able to give
him the best help and comfort: and very soon
Mr. Lysle came, with Grace and Mary. Shocked,
indeed, and grieved were they to find the sad
condition to which Helen was reduced, but the
joy of being again at home, the feeling of secur¬
ity and the constant and tender care of her
father did much to revive and cheer her. The
dark stains of bigotry and superstition, however,
which had cost so much time and labor to im¬
press on her mind, were not to be easily eradi¬
cated ; as she regained strength, uneasiness on
the subject of religion returned, and she deemed
it sinful to enjoy the comforts and luxuries which
suiTounded her and to receive and reciprocate
the affection of parent and friends. She had
been taught that religion required the crushing
of those natural feelings, but it was in vain she
schooled herself in asceticism ; love was the
condition of her nature, and the studies which
had during the past years engrossed so large a
portion of her time, having yielded no satisfac¬
tion to her heart, her affections, warm and con-
294 THE AMERICAN CONVENT A3
fiding, were given to those around her; a fact of
which, as we have seen, due advantage had been
taken. The old fear of the confessional revived
with the apprehensions of its necessity, and
again worrying over mental disquietudes with
which she knew not how to deal, she grew
rapidly worse. She received this as a chastise¬
ment for not having sent for a priest, who alone,
she imagined, could give her peace and recon¬
ciliation with God.
Judge Burton had proposed to her to see Dr.
Leighton, but finding her averse, he had not
pressed it, and now,when he had said, from the
fulness of his heart, all the trite and common¬
place phrases of comfort that he could remember,
he knew not how to proceed in the work of
consolation ; but he brought out the cherished
Bible, which had been carefully laid away so
many years.
" Give it me," she said, eagerly, and then came
the recollection that it was a denounced book ; to
read it involved confession and a heavy penance.
That she dare not incur, and with a gesture of
fear and disappointment, she put it away.
Sorely perplexed and grieved, Judge Burton
sat with folded arms and gloomy brow, gazing
on the wasted face now tinged with the fatal
hectic, which he knew well was the precursor of
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 295
what he most feared, and when his heart was
too full to conceal his feelings longer, he left
her.
Fifty years ago many months would probably
have elapsed before the quiet resolve of Mr.
Lysle, as he sat in his study ruminating on
Madge's case, would have reached the English
public; but putting in requisition,with his accus¬
tomed promptness and vigor, those modem
appliances which almost annihilate time and
distance, it was not long before all that he
deemed proper to secure his object was tho¬
roughly circulated by the Euglish press, nor
long before it reached the eyes of those for
whom it was intended; and as the result Mr.
Lysle received a letter from a Mr. St. Clair who
" felt sure," he said, " that the child was no other
than the daughter of his sister, who left England
with her husband (a gentleman of the same
name and a distant relative,) and child, about the
period designated, and of whose death her
family had learned through the ship's report.
Of Mr. St. Clair and his child nothing had ever
been heard, and death alone, he believed, could
have caused his silence. Every effort had been
made to discover traces of father or child since
landing, without success. A man in high posi-
29(5 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
tion and tlie possessor of much wealth, Mr. St.
Clair had with him so many evidences of his
identity and destination that it was manifest
there was no desire to find his family on the
part of those into whose hands his effects had
fallen, even if he had died suddenly without
being able to communicate such information
himself, and these considerations had rendered
his family doubly anxious concerning the fate of
the child.
Mr. St. Clair announced his intention of very
soon following his letter, and a month later he
landed in New York, where a letter from Mr.
Lysle awaited him, giving farther particulars of
Madge. Mr. St. Clair was a young man, and
Mr. Lysle advised him of the necessity of being
armed with legal authority before applying for his
niece, and he had proposed to proceed directly
to , the home of that gentleman ; but find¬
ing that the Convent was in the route to that
place, his natural impulsiveness, excited by his
ardent desire to see this child of a much loved
sister, induced him to stop there, in the belief
that he should be able to identify and obtain
the child without difficulty.
Accordingly he presented himself one morning
in the reception-room, and stated to the Mistress-
General his business. Madam Cherubina re-
A' SCHOOl fOk fSOTESTAW CHILDREN. 29?
ceived him, as was her custom, most courteously,
and with the blandness characteristic of her
manners, regretted his disappointment in a
matter which she perceived affected him so
deeply, assuring him there was no such person
there, that the child alluded to was a boarder,
who now in the vacation had returned to the
home of her relatives who had placed her there.
She was from a distance and she knew little of
her.
Unaccustomed to deal with such people, and
uncertain how to proceed, Mr. St. Clair concluded
his wisest course was to seek, as he had intended,
counsel from Mr. Lysle, and to he now took
his way, and we find him next added to the
family circle of Mrs. Dabney. He had not
neglected, before leaving England, to provide
himself with such letters as would assist him in
his chief object and also secure him a cordial
reception in polite society.
Every item that Grace could recall concerning
Madge's history was now written out ; a writ of
habeus corpus was obtained, and after some
weeks, during which various denials, equivo¬
cations and subterfuges were resorted to, through
which we shall not follow them, Madge, perhaps
to avoid farther scandal, was surrendered, not
298
THE AMERICAN CONVENT A8
however before the. circumstances were well
known through the community.
Grace had endeavored to prepare Mr. St. Clair
for the shock she was sure he would feel on
meeting Madge, but the affectionate brother,
yearning to embrace the child of his lost sister,
dwelt rather on the hopeful traits of which she
spoke; but when finally the awkward and un¬
tutored girl was presented to him, the sensitive
young Englishman felt such a revulsion of feeling
as nearly overcame him. Mr. Lvsle, who accom¬
panied him, took kindly by the hand the aston¬
ished child, who had been kept in ignorance that
any quest was being made for her, and leading
her to her uncle, sought by his words and manner
to dissipate the effect which that gentleman's
evident disappointment might have made on
her mind.
Mr. St. Clair embraced her, but his heart could
recognize nothing of his sister in the unprepos¬
sessing figure before him, and when she became
more familiar, her caresses were borne more as a
duty than received as a gratification.
" You have had this young person under your
charge seven years, I believe," said Mr. Lysle,
addressing the Superior, when Mr. St. Clair and
his niece had passed out: " do you present her
A SCHOOL FOE I'EOTESTANT CHH.DKEN. 299
as a specimen of your capacity for training
children ?"
" O no, I assure you she has been here only
a year."
" The other years of the seven were passed,
however, it appears, with your co-laborers in
other convents, which amounts to the same thing."
"Some characters are incorrigible," apologized
the lady.
" But this child is of good family, had been
well cared for in infancy, and besides, was so
young when you took her that one would think
you might have moulded her to your will, in
exteriors at least. Her present appearance is not
flattering to your system, I must say."
The delight of Madge, or Maude, as we shall
now give her her rightful name, was unbounded
at finding herself out of the Convent and with
Grace, whom she continued to regard with much
fondness; but her wilfulness and coarse manners
were so offensive that it required all Grace's
influence and management to render her endur¬
able, although all took a lively interest in re¬
claiming the unfortunate child.
The family were continually startled by
exclamations offensive to propriety, and although
carefully instructed in the sin of thus using
sacred names, and extremely desirous to please
300
THE AMERICAN CONVENT.
lier new friends the habit was too inveterate to be
easily laid aside. She often uttered sentiments
shocking to all and deeply mortifying to her
uncle, who began to despair of ever making her
companionable; while she remained ignorant,
until reproved, that she was violatiug the rules
of decorum. She lia-d little faith in the religion
of those among whom she had been raised, yet
her mind was filled with superstitious and de¬
basing fears, inculcated in the convents. Cross¬
ings, bowings, and ejaculations, to which she
attached no meaning but as charms to keep off
evil, made her devotions. Mary entering her
room on a certain occasion as she dashed off her
clothes and sprang into bed, asked why she used
such unnecessary haste. " Oh, I am afraid the
angels will see me naked," she replied.
Mary endeavored to divest her mind of such
sensual and impure ideas of angels, and direct
it to the presence of God, who we know is ever
near us, and who desires purity in the inward
thoughts. Mudli time and labor, indeed, did
Mrs. Dabney and her daughters bestow on the
poor child, and soon they had the happiness of
seeing their efforts bear fruit in the improved phy¬
sical and mental condition of their protegee, who
was sent with Grace to Mrs. Hackley's school.*
* See Appendix C.
CHAPTER XY.
" Mary dear," said Helen, as Mary sat beside
her one day, striving to draw her thoughts from
the fears which continually harassed her, " you
are always so cheerful and happy; but then
death seems far off to you, while to me it seems
so near, and Oh, how fearful! Would you be
afraid to die, Mary ?"
The question was startling. Mary was young
and happy, yes, very happy, reposing in the love
of her heavenly Father and surrounded by the
loving friends He had given her, gifts which,
alas, too often draw off the heart from the Giver.
She was silent; the fingers she had been caress¬
ing were laid softly down, and covering her face
with her hands she held communion with her
own heart. Was she afraid to die? Afraid to
go to Jesus, who had loved her and given him¬
self for her ? To leave the loved ones here, at a
26
302
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
moment's warning, was bitter, but sbe was not
afraid.
" No, dear Helen," at length she said, " not
afraid, trusting not iu my own righteousness but
in His who has loved me and bought me with
His own blood. 'Though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, His rod and His
staff they shall comfort me.' "
" And yet you never went to confession, and
never did penance."
" I confess my sins to God, who only can for¬
give them, while 1 am always ready, I trust, to
acknowledge my faults to those whom I have
offended."
" Oh, if I could feel so; sometimes I have
happy thoughts like dreams, of my dear mother
and the things she taught me, and then comes
the feeling that all that is error and only to be
feared; my mind is very dark," and Helen
sighed.
" Would you not like to see Dr. Leighton? I
am not wise enough to solve all your difficulties,
dear Helen, but he could explain everything so
well and point you to the way of peace. Will
you not see him ?"
Helen shook her head,—she longed to see and
talk with her mother's friend and pastor, but
superstition prevailed. Mary however did not
A SCHOOL roil PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 303
despair ; and vlien she was gone, Helen took her
mother's diary and turned the leaves. It was
commenced when Mrs. Burton was young, and
contained the outpourings of a heart deeply
humbled and thoroughly in earnest concerning
the things of eternity. Here was her dear
mother speaking again, if not in the same words
which had been addressed to her, yet in the same
heavenly way that she was used to iu infancy;
here were written out many of the same spiritual
conflicts which had passed in her own mind ; but
while her mother, through all, seemed to find
light and peace, her mind was and ever had been,
since she had discarded her teaching, dark and
doubting.
Here she read : " How gracious my God is to
me, undeserving as I am; this morning I was
harassed in the prospect of speedy death, by
anxieties for my husband and my darling child ;
but that is past and all is perfect peace—I can
leave them to Him, knowing that He will provide
for tliem far better things than I can ever ask ;
He will bring them to Himself in a way I know
not of. I know that it is best for me to depart,
since it is His will." Again, " When I look at
myself in the light of God's law, how vile does
my best righteousness appear; how precious then
to me is the righteousness of Christ!"
304
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
These and many other passages Helen read as
she turned the pages, with an absorbing interest
which only those can know whose souls havo
yearned and fainted for the bread of life. The
hours passed unheeded; in vain the nurse ad¬
monished her she was exerting herself too much.
Judge Burton found her still engrossed with its
pages when he came in.
" You left me good medicine," she said, laying
down the journal, and smiling as she took his
hand; " it seems as if my dear mother had been
talking to me and explaining many things as she
used to do when I was a child. Sometimes I
seem to catch a glimpse of the light that made all
so clear to her, and then all is darkness again."
But the happy effect of the diary was so
manifest in Helen's manner that Judge Burton's
sanguine nature took hope that could her mind
be satisfied she might once more regain her
strength, and he sought by every means to divert
her from her mental disquietude ; but Helen was
too much in earnest to be drawn from the one
subject that filled her thoughts. The flattering
hopes that sometimes encouraged her father,
found no echo in her bosom, and she was look¬
ing with the eagerness of a shipwrecked mariner
for something whereon to rest in the final con¬
flict she felt sure was soon to come; and almost
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 30i>
unconsciously she turned from the diary to the
Bible, so lately an inhibited book for her, the
Bible pencilled by the hand of her who taught
her infant lips to repeat with reverential awe
that prayer she had since heard so abused in
numberless and vain repetitions. The solemn
and noble simplicity of style was striking in
comparison with the exaggerated fulsomeness of
the Romish books of devotion to which she had
been accustomed, and its words breathed peace
to her soul; but again the superstitious fear of
incurring guilt came to mar her satisfaction, and
the Holy Book was laid aside with reluctance.
When Dr. Leighton came, shortly after, with
Mary, having Judge Burton's concurrence, Helen
could not repress the happiness the presence of
her old friend inspired.
" And now, my child," said the pastor, after a
short conversation, " tell me what troubles you ;
have you not found peace in the faith you have
embraced ?"
Helen's lip quivered, and her eyes filled with
tears as the disappointed hopes, the fruitless
efforts, the oft-repeated prayers and penances
rose to her mind, and when at length she spoke,
it was, " No peace, no peace ; the more I strive to
purify myself, the viler X seem. I have nothing
306
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
worthy to offer to God, and I must so soon appear
before Him."
" And where did you learn that you can have
something worthy to offer to God?"
" The Church teaches that' the righteous ought
to expect everlasting reward from God for their
good works.' "*
" That is the teaching of man, who has pre¬
sumed to set aside the "Word of God, which says,
' By grace are ye saved, through faith ; and that
not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of
works, lest any-man shall boast.' And again, ' If
it be of works, then is it no more grace ; other¬
wise work is no more work.' And again, ' Being
justified freely by His grace through the redemp¬
tion that is in Christ Jesus.' 'Therefore,' the
Apostle says, ' being justified by faith, we have
peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.'
Can you understand these texts ?"
" They seem very plain, but I have been taught
that a Catholic, through the grace of the sacra¬
ments and of the Holy Ghost, is able by the daily
practice of good works, to increase in merit be¬
fore God every hour and moment, and to gain an
ever increasing crown of glory, by his merits."t
" The Apostle says," replied Dr. Leighton,
* Catechism of Council of Trent, Canon 2G,
f Weninger,
A SCHOOL FOE PEOTESTANT CHILDEEN. 307
"' Let God be true, but every man a liarthat
is, when the word of man conflicts with the Word
of God, it must be the effect of error and false¬
hood, and to that test must come the teaching of
the Roman Catholic as well as every other- au¬
thority."
"' Not of works, ye are saved by grace; " re¬
peated Helen, musingly, recurring to the text
cited by Dr. Leigh ton, " ' not of works,' then what
shall I have to offer God ? How shall I appear
before Him ?"
" You have nothing; the Bible'says, ' our best
righteousnesses are but filthy rags,' therefore you
can give nothing, and God offers youfree salvation.
St. Peter says, ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and thou slialt be saved.' He annexes no con¬
ditions. St. Paul says, ' The blood of Christ
cleanseth from all sin.' And again, ' Jesus is
made unto us wisdom and righteousness and
sanctification and redemption.' ' Not by works
of righteousness which we have done, but by His
mercy He saved us.' Jesus has mercifully open¬
ed a fountain for sin and uncleanness; will you
not wash and be clean ? He offers you the robe
of His righteousness, will you not be clothed in
it that He may present you faultless before His
Father ?"
" This is grace indeed, to clothe such a poor
308 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
sinful creature as I," said Helen, " in the robe of
Christ's righteousness."
" Grace indeed," iterated the doctor, " ' but if
it be of works, then is it no more grace.' "
" Let me think," she continued; " surely the
heart must overflow with love in receiving such
a gift."
" And grateful obedience will follow love,"
added Dr. Leighton.
" Just as love prompts me to obey my father,"
said Helen.
" And these are the good works which are ac¬
ceptable to God through Christ Jesus," rejoined
the doctor, " the fruit of faith and not the cause of
j ustification."
Helen was silent, and Dr. Leighton would not
by an added word disturb the peace that the re¬
ception of these simple yet vital truths was shed¬
ding through her soul.
" Oh, you do not know the burden that is lifted
from me," she said at length, " there is no fear
now—I can but love."
With a few simple words of prayer Dr. Leigh¬
ton commended her to God and left, promising
to come again, and Helen from that time grew
rapidly in spiritual life ; the Fountain was opened
to her and she drank deeply of the living water.
The Bible became the precious companion of
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 309
her hours, and prayer was no longer allotted por¬
tions of litanies offered to Mary, but the fervent
petitions of a loving child communing with her
Heavenly Father of the things which concerned
her peace. No longer harassed by doubts and
fears, she reposed in perfect confidence that He
who had done such great things for her would
order all aright; but while the spirit thus grew in
grace, the earthly tabernacle waxed feebler, and
it was evident to her friends that she would not
be left with them long, to edify by her patient
submission or animate by words of holy peace
and joy. So gentle and gradual was her decline
that often she was able to enjoy the society of
her friends, and in those favored hours they
learned to estimate more truly the relative value
of the things of time and eternity.
" To whom should I now look, if I had not
found my Saviour?" said Helen ; " He makes all
my bed. He has made all so plain to me, I can
with such entire trust commit myself to Him
and my beloved father as well, assured that He
will do what is best for him."
Sad yet rejoicing were the hours spent by the
bedside of his daughter to Judge Burton, for in
reading to her the Holy Scriptures and in hear¬
ing her expatiate on the preciousness of the
promises they contained, he first learned to
310
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
know savingly those truths which his lips had so
often repeated as forms, and to derive from
them the consolation his stricken heart so much
needed. He was seldom absent from her, and
reposing in him the most entire and filial confi¬
dence, Helen had, as her strength permitted, re¬
lated to him the whole history of her convent
life, not forgetting the memorable interviews
with Sister Agnes. " Poor Sister Agnes! would
that I could have done something to testify my
gratitude to her, and to soothe her last hours!
Still I now know that Jesus could make those
hours happy with His presence there, even as
He does with me."
Judge Burton would gladly have interfered to
procure the release of Sister Agnes, had they
not learned from Maude that she was dead : she
knew indeed nothing of her, but that a nun of
that name was buried from the Monastery a few
days before she left. Helen felt sure that for
that unfortunate, " to die was gain," and she
could not mourn that she had gone before her
from the scene of her trials. With more sadness
her thoughts reverted to those still living in the
convent: although keenly sensible of the great
wrong which had been done her there, and the
greater which had been intended, she could not,
nor did she desire to divest herself of feelings
A SCHOOL FOB PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 311
of attachment to those with whom she had
passed so many years. " They know not what
they do," she would say, in apology for them,
" their case seems so well described by the
apostle when speaking of the Jews, that I could
not help applying the passage when I first read it:
' I bear them record, they have a zeal of God,
but not according to knowledge, for they, being
ignorant of God's righteousness, and going
about to establish their own righteousness, have
not submitted themselves unto the righteousness
of God.' And my experience and observation at
the convent show me how impossible it is to be
holy without a true faith. Dear Grace," she
added, " how can you and I ever be thankful
enough that our Heavenly Father, in His Provi¬
dence, delivered us from the bondage in which
those poor souls continue? Oh, that your life
may praise Him as I do in death !"
"I deem it no small privilege, I assure you,"
said Mr. St. Clair, who sometimes made one of
the small circle of friends admitted to the invalid,
" to enjoy the society of Miss Burton : one can¬
not but be edified by her cheerful, intelligent
piety, while her simplicity is charming. I was
struck by a little incident some time ago. I
scarcely know of what we had been speaking,
but her mind seemed pre-occupied, and turning
312
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
to Dr. Leigliton, who was present, in her soft
earnest, believing way, as if trying to dispose of
all the worthless appendages which had cum¬
bered her faith, she said, ' The blood of Christ
cleanseth from all sin,' is one of the precious
texts I have learned ; what then, Doctor, is the
use of Purgatory
" And what said the Doctor ?" asked Mr.Lysle;
" he usually disposes of this stubble of Rome, as
he calls it, without much ceremony."
" But he is ever tender Avhere a troubled soul
is concerned, I perceive. He answered, 'that in
the plan of salvation revealed to us by the Holy
Spirit, no such place is required, and therefore
none such is spoken of, or ever intimated, in
Holy Scripture; but as held by Rome, it is
declared by our Church to be a fond thing,
'vainly invented, and repugnant to the Word of
God.' 1 Its use, however,' he added, ' is to ex¬
tort money and debase the consciences of its
votaries; and few devices have served these pur¬
poses better.'
" ' I was taught at the Convent,' said Miss
Burton, ' that even the righteous need to be
purged in its fires.'
" ' Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord,
from henceforth : yea, saitli the Spirit, that they
may rest from their labors, and their works do
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 313
follow them, '* repeated the Doctor, in his im¬
pressive way, and Miss Burton made no reply ; I
think the difficulty was satisfactorily disposed of."
Those only who have watched some loved one
passing away with a disease which human
science acknowledges its inability to arrest, and
which yet by its continually varying phases,
begets hopes which the fond heart eagerly
grasps but to have snatched away by the return
of the fatal symptoms, can realize Judge Bur¬
ton's feelings as, week after week, he marked
the progress of his daughter's complaint. He
had been anxious to take her to Cuba or Florida
for the winter, but Helen was not willing to ex¬
change the charm of home and the society of
friends for the temporary and precarious benefit
of travel, and he had yielded to her wishes.
The winter had passed : and the summer heat
had been borne with unanticipated buoyancy;
often the invalid had enjoyed a ride, and still was
able to hold pleasant intercourse with her
friends, but as the season drew to its close, and
the keen breezes of autumn began to scatter the
leaves upon the paths, it was evident that the
frail tenement that held her would soon be dis¬
solved. No longer able to converse except at
intervals, she loved to hear Grace and Mary sing
those fine old hymns of our Chuicli which
r<
314
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
express so well the experience and aspirations of
a heart in communion with God; and as their
voices blended in this sweet but simple harmony,
Grace felt far more as if her spirit might mount
to heaven on the voice of song than she ever
had in those idolatrous hymns which had so
drawn forth the admiration of Father James.
"' Just as I am,' dear Grace, please sing that
dear hymn to me this evening," she whispered,
and clear and soft on the air rose the trustful
words of the hymn.
"Just as I am, without one plea,
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bidst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come !
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind ;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come !
Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ;
Because thy promise I believe,—
O Lamb of God, I come 1
Just as I am—thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down ;
Now to be thine, yea, thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come 1"
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 315
As tlie voices liushed, Dr. Leigliton entered :
he was glad to find his patient so comfortable,
for the cough which had lately been very ex¬
hausting, seemed better, and he presently offered
prayer. With tremulous voice, for he felt that
the time of departure was near, he pleaded for
the young Christian who seemed already to
breathe the atmosphere of heaven. Prayer had
never seemed so solemn as Dr. Leighton's words
were borne to the ears and hearts of those pre¬
sent, and when he approached afterwards, to
remind her of some sweet promise from Holy
Scripture, she drew the extended hand towards
her father's which she held, but was silent. An
ineffable expression overspread her face—gradu¬
ally the gentle pressure relaxed, and the grief-
stricken father bent over the form of her who
was being ushered into the presence of her Father
in heaven.
Helen was buried ; for the rich are buried now
as in the days of Dives; she was buried with all
the pomp and circumstance which wealth and
position are accustomed to bring together, but
her spirit was already reposing with Abraham's
God.
" While we mourn for our young friend," said
Mr. Lysle, as ho marked the dejection of his
31(5 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
family after the last sad duties were paid,"let us
praise the wisdom and goodness of God through
all. Had she returned from the Convent with
only her soul ruined, neither she nor her father
might have recognized the evil, but broken in
body by their practices, not only has she been
recalled from error, but he, I trust, has, through
her instrumentality, been led to the truth ; his
grief, it is true, has been imbittered by the
reflection that his own folly was the cause of so
much suffering to liis child, and required so
severe a chastisement for himself."
" One of the school girls told me," said Grace,
" she had never known so sensitive a person as
Helen was : she loved her very much, and said
the first year they were there, for they were
entered the same year, Helen used often to weep
on hearing the dreadful things said about Pro¬
testantism in the Lectures and at other times,
and the constant repetition of such stories kept
her very unhappy ; but Mother Cherubina and
the Sisters were very fond of her and took much
pains to soften and palliate the things that seemed
to harass her, and she became much attached to
them."
" Was this young lady a Protestant ?"
" Tes, .and she would gladly be away from the
Convent: she is an orphan, and kept there by a
A SCHOOL FOI! PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 317
guardian, and although much effort has been
made to proselyte her, I think she will never be
a Roman Catholic—at least she says so now. I
used to wonder to see her listen so unconcerned
to the Lectures : I think they are among the
hardest things a Protestant girl who has any
feeling has to bear there. There is scarcely any
but feel very indignant at first. I remember Lucy
could hardly keep Marcia quiet when we came
out, after Father O'Toole's first lecture, and all
the new Protestant pupils were angry, but the
same charges are made so often and so positively
that it seems as if there must be some truth in
them, and gradually the girls sink—some into
indifference, others into a feeling of shame at
professing a religion which is shown to have had
such a dreadful beginning and to be held in such
abhorrence by all around them. I am ashamed
to say I scarcely know into which of the two classes
I fell. The girls have very little opportunity to
express to each other their opinions of these
things, when they have any, on account of the
vigilance of the angels, who are always near."
"You think they were watchful at St. Mar¬
garet's," said Maude; " you ought to have been
at theUrsuline. I tell you they are strict there:
why, the sister of Myra Holt, one of the pupils,
came there once and brought her little baby.
318
THE AMEIUCAN CONVENT AS
Myra was allowed to go to the turn to see
them, and she wanted to take the baby in her
arms, for she had never seen it before, but they
wouldn't let her. They just put its face to the
turn and let her kiss it. I've been at three con¬
vents, and they did things different at all. At
one they called the angels ' cap-sisters.' "
" And which of the three did you like best,
Maude ?" asked her uncle.
" All worst," was the short reply.
" Uncle," said Grace, who was fond of referring
her perplexities to Mr. Lysle, "what makes
Marcia Chamberlain so obstinate in the errors
she has learned? It seems so strange while
Lucy, who had the same temptation, is such a
staunch Protestant."
" Tour question is difficult, Grace, but I will
tell you what the Bible says: ' Knowledge
puffeth up, but charity (love) edifietli.' Marcia,
it seems, was a very clever girl : proud of her
knowledge, and trusting in it alone, she fell
easily into the snare spread for her, and the
system she has embraced, teaching for relig¬
ion that will-worship which consists in vol¬
untary humility and worshipping of angels, and
not holding the head, she is not likely, I fear, to
see her error."
A SCHOOL FOE PEOTESTANT CHILDEEN. 319
" When she was first at the Convent, she
seemed to know so well what was right. I often
felt ashamed when I heard her speak so well,
that I had given these things so little thought."
We must possess a love as well as a knowledge
of the truth," replied Mr. Lysle : " it is often
those who are most violent in opposition, who
soonest yield to temptation. When error abounds,
it is safest to watch our own hearts, rather than
to be loud in profession. We should be careful
to oppose error from the highest motives:
because it is dishonorable to God, and destructive
to souls—and while we hate the sin, we must love
the sinner, seeking to save him, by ' pulling him
out of the fire.' While I trust I shall ever hold
in abhorrence every approach to popery, I hope
too, I shall never be wanting in love to those
who are its dupes and victims."
SEQUEL.
The lapse of several years brings ns to another
record. Nature has often changed her attire,
but the dark pall of crushed affections has never
been raised from Mrs. Chamberlain's heart.
Mr. Chamberlain passed on, hiding, after a time,
under a cold reserve, the wounds continually
inflicted by a defiant and relentless child, but the
mother could never learn to wear an indifferent
air: her heart was broken. They both sub¬
mitted—both felt they had invited the chastise¬
ment, and their punishment was in beholding the
result. Often was the weeping mother she had
met at the Louvre, in Mrs. Chamberlain's mind,
and her own prophetic thoughts; and then she
felt she had a Kefuge of which that unhappy
lady was ignorant.
Mr. Chamberlain's daughters possessed a small
property which was to be under their own con¬
trol ou their majority, and Marcia,having attained
xAE AMERICAN CONVENT. .'>'21
tliat age, signified her wish that her portion should
be paid to her, as it was her purpose to make a
pilgrimage to Rome for some special purpose,
not however communicated to her family. Mar-
cia's associates were no longer those of her
mother and sister, but members of her own com¬
munion, as her spiritual directors, for obvious
reasons, found it expedient to separate her as
much as possible from her family, and her pro¬
posed journey was to be in company with a
Roman Catholic family to whom she had been
recommended.
In vain the mother pleaded, her failing health
rendering it probable she should never see her
more ; either Marcia or her directors were reso¬
lute, and receiving the demanded supplies, she
departed.
With her new Mends she reached the " Eternal
City," as its admirers are fond of styling that of
which it is written " she shall be utterly burned
with fire, for strong is the Lord God who judgeth
her." She was presented to " His Holiness, the
Pope," and received his blessing and marked at¬
tention, in consideration of being a renegade
Protestant; she also enjoyed the privilege of
kissing the great toe of the image of St. Peter,
and the distinguished honor of handling "il
322
THE AME1UCAN CONVENT AS
bambino"* in the church of Ara Coeli. The
latter privileges we are inclined to believe Marcia
secretly despised, for it is incredible that the
intellect of intelligent Protestants, reared in the
light of God's Word, however it may be per¬
verted to receive the fallacies of Iiomisli doctrines,
can be so degraded as to witness and participate
with satisfaction in those heathenish practices
which make up the religion of those where its
influence is unrestrained, and to which its doc¬
trines directly lead; and thus, with the very
profession of Romanism, an element of unbelief
is introduced into the mind.
It was not long before Marcia, actuated either
by compunction or disgust, turned her steps
again homeward; and although she reached
in a very few months after the time of her depart¬
ure, the mother whose entreaties she had braved
was beyond the reach of any reparation she
might have felt disposed to make.
Death is a stern teacher, and Mr. Chamberlain
* " II bambino santissimo," the holy child, is a wooden
doll, about two feet long, representing, of course, the infant
Saviour, kept in the church of Ara Coeli at Borne, and is a
favorite divinity there, particularly among the lower classes.
It is wrapped in swaddling clothes and upon its head is a
crown which, as well as fhe whole body, is covered with
diamonds and other precious stones, the gifts of those who
have been healed by its miracles 11
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 323
and Lucy could not but hope that the death, in
such circumstances, of a parent she had once
tenderly loved, might call back the better feelings
of her nature ; but the sad event had been com¬
municated to her before she reached home, and
whatever might have been her first feelings, no
emotion was exhibited when she met them, so
that one might reasonably conclude that she had
already attained that elevation of Jesuitical piety
in which human affections are ignored, and to
which their devotees are so much urged.
The last hope disappointed, the father turned
away, never more to imprint a kiss upon that
insensible brow. It was with anguish inex¬
pressible that Lucy marked the undimmed eye
and cold expression with which her sister looked
upon the memorials her mother left her. " Give
her my Bible, Lucy," she had said, " I know you
would value that yourself, but give it rather to
her; it may be that some day it will recall her
to the truth." Marcia received it without remark,
and placing it with the other articles, pro¬
ceeded to her own room.
For six months she went and came on her
own affairs, seldom meeting the family except at
meals, and then rarely unbending, even under
the vivacity and persevering kindness of Lucy.
Action, with her, was life : works of merit and of
324 THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
supererogation must fill tlie days ancl shorten
the nights, from which, alas! sleep too often
fled. What pleasant thoughts indeed should
cheer the mind in the long hours of night? As the
chords of memory vibrated, what but mournful
tones could be awakened? The nervous and
rapid treading to and fro too often revealed to
Lucy how little peace the new theology was
yielding her. Again she left her home, osten¬
sibly to visit a Mend, but in a short time they
learned she had entered the convent at .
" Better so," said Mr. Chamberlain ; " entreaties
would have availed nothing, and you, Lucy, were
spared at least the anticipation."
Convent walls, however, could not long restrain
the restless spirit of Marcia. She took care to
bind herself by no irrevocable vows, and after a
limited sojourn, she again returned to the busier
scenes of life, and once more found herself at
, her native place. In the interim, Lucy
had married a gentleman from a distant place
and removed thither, and Mr. Chamberlain, glad
to leave the scene of so many disappointments
and sorrows, accompanied her to her new home.
Marcia now occupied herself as fancy dictated,
sometimes working for the church, sometimes
nursing the sick, or propagating her new faith
thus the years passed on, but tbe constant ner-
A SCHOOT, FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 325
vous excitement in which she lived was no more
favorable to physical health than a life of fash¬
ionable dissipation ; and broken down in health
and temper she found herself laid aside from
active employments and suffering great bodily
pain.
Mary Dabney, now Mrs. R , ever ready at
the call of distress, went, on hearing of Marcia's
illness, to visit her. The sight of Mary doubtless
brought sad memories to Marcia, and in her
weakness, tears came unbidden to her eyes; but
soon recovering her self-control, the old coldness
returned, and she relapsed into her accustomed
constraint of manner.
The contrast was striking, as Mary sat beside
the bed. Marcia, the daughter who, ignoring
God's commands, had, in carrying out her will-
worship, placed priestly power between her
parents and herself, lay there ; the deep lines in
her face bespoke an age much greater than was
really hers; the curled lip and querulous tones
were but the expression of scornful pride, nour¬
ished by self or priestly imposed asceticisms, and
of a temper which, irritated by unsatisfied aspira¬
tions, had in the last few years exhibited itself in
scenes most disparaging to her religious profes¬
sion. Death was stamped on her features, but
28
326 THE AMERICAN CONTENT AS
no calm religious hope breathed peace into her
countenance.
Beside her sat Mary, the faithful wife, the
blooming mother of two fair children, the affec¬
tionate soother of her mother's declining years,
the tender and considerate friend of the poor and
sick : and yet how softly time had laid his hand
on her ! The high brow was yet unmarked, the
gentle, earnest expression of the eyes was only
deepened and spiritualized by a constant up-
looking to her Heavenly Father, and a constant
practice of his teachings. With sincere pity she
looked on the unhappy sufferer before her ; but
Marcia was surrounded by those of her own
faith, and she found little opportunity to speak
to her of the things that concerned her peace
Marcia, however, desired she should come again,
and hoping at some time to be more useful, she
often went, and did not fail, when opportunity
offered, to point her to her Saviour as her only
refuge at this dread hour—and when the final
summons came, she was there.
The priest had administered the last rites, but
the patient's sufferings were unabated. " Fray
for me, Mary," she murmured, and an attending
nun, shocked doubtless at such a request of a
Protestant at such a time, holding up a little
figure of the Yirgin, pressed it to her lips and
A SCHOOL FOR PROTESTANT CHILDREN. 327
extended it to Marcia for a like devotion. Pusli-
iug it aside with impatient gesture, Marcia turned
her face to the wall, and it was not long before
some convulsive throes announced that the spirit
was quitting its mortal tenement. Mary could
do no more, and giving a sorrowful look at the
lifeless form, she left her to the semi-heathen
rites of her co-religionists, such as sprinkling,
censing, &c., which are so distasteful to those
who draw their faith from Him who, " though
born under the Jewish economy, itself full of
rites and ceremonies, bequeathed to his followers
a religion more free from ritualism than any the
world ever knew."
And shall they who wrought such evil go un¬
punished ? The cry from many a violated hearth¬
stone, as from many an auto-da-fe, is gone up
against them. Shall it be pleaded that it is the
system—that its votaries are only blindly obeying
the mandates of superiors in thus sapping the
foundations of society and of Christian life ?
Will priestly authority shield them in the Great
Day when all, both " small and great shall stand
before God, and the books shall be opened, and
the dead shall be judged out of those things
which are written in the books "? " I tell you,
nay, though the cry be, how long 1"
328
THE AMERICAN CONVENT AS
In conclusion, the writer would remind the
reader of the assertion in the preface, that the
incidents given in these pages are no creations
of fancy, hut relations of facts which have tran¬
spired here in our own country—facts which the
simple grouping neither extenuates nor exag¬
gerates, and which are finding their counterparts
in the continually recurring experience of those
immured within these institutions. Several ob¬
vious reasons concur in preventing Protestants
who have placed their children in these establish¬
ments from giving publicity to their objectionable
features and their immoral tendencies, yet so
much is made known that one may well wonder
how any parent can persist in putting a child in
a place of such temptation. Two cases of very
recent occurrence the writer will mention.
A young girl placed in a convent by her
family, who resided at a great distance, received
such treatment from a priest, that she felt con¬
strained to apply to the Superior for protection,
and what answer was received ? " Tou Protes¬
tants are so prejudiced that we cannot believe a
word you say. We do not believe our priests do
such things." The other is that of a young girl
who after much effort is enabled to send to a
relative a letter which has escaped inspection, in
which she declares that such continued effort is
A SCHOOL LOU PLOTESTAKT CHlLPBEN. 320
made to proselyte her that she fears that if not
relieved, she will lose her senses: that such is
the course pursued in that convent towards all
the Protestants, who are compelled to listen to
everything abusive of their religion, and that the
utmost favor is shown to such as receive these
instructions favorably, while those who remain
unmoved are frowned upon and treated as re¬
probates.
A FEW WORDS
ABOUT
BARBARA IJBRYK
The narrative of Barbara Ubryk, the nun whose
imprisonment and inhuman treatment during more
than twenty-one years in the Carmelite Convent at
Cracou, has been the subject of frequent notice in
the American, as well as the European papers, for
several months, suggests some reflections which it
may not be impertinent to offer at a time when
Convents and Sisterhoods and Brotherhoods seem
particularly in vogue—when even some Protestants
are lending a willing ear to their formation in
England and in our country, where, until lately,
they had scarcely an existence, even as Romish
institutions.
This horrible crime is discovered in the midst of
a Roman Catholic community, and the narrative is
given by the victim, a Roman Catholic, on oath, in
presence of the Roman Catholic Bishop and the
Austrian Judge of the Court of Correction : thus
Roman Catholics cannot object to the authority of
i 3311
332
A FEW W011DS ABOUT
any of the statements, all the other witnesses being
also devout members of their Church, and ex¬
tremely anxious not to inculpate the system. Let
us see then if it does not prove all that the greatest
opponents of convents have ever charged on them,
not as having happened in this case only, but as
inseparable from the system. We see here a
virtuous youDg girl, at the age of eighteen, entering
the convent, not from any particular desire to
devote herself to the service of God, but because
her affections have been deeply wounded, and
because her mother, who should have been her
solace in time of sorrow, adds scornful and selfish
reproaches which drive her to this favorite resort
of those reared in the Romish faith. In this
seemingly peaceful retreat, in the companionship
of women deemed eminently holy, this young girl
hopes to find a refuge from the caprices of fortune
and a balm for every wound ; and during her
novitiate all is fair and delusive as the " whited
sepulchre." Scarcely, however, has the irrevocable
vow been made, when the scene changes, and she
finds herself utterly helpless, in the power of a
sensual, brutal fiend, under the garb of convent
confessor, and a woman as depraved as himself in
the person of the Lady Superior. It is not our
purpose to follow this unhappy woman through
her twenty-one years of suffering for the crime of
resisting lust, in a cell eight feet by six, with an
BARBARA UBRYK.
333
ail- hole six inches by four, high up in the wall.
Suffice it that, violated, reviled, beaten, starved,
naked, without a seat, without a bed, in filth and
vermin, in cold and darkness, without a word of
kindness during that long period, she lived, lived
to be delivered and to testify to all the horrors
through which she had passed.
If the facts were not so public, so undeniable,
we could but think them exaggerated; for the
credit of human nature we could wish they were:
but no—the condition of the victim so fully corro¬
borates the testimony as to forbid the supposition.
Then it is asked, maj- not her misconduct have
provoked it ? And charity is silenced by the proof
that her virtue alone brought on her this diabolical
vengeance from her spiritual directors ! We almost
hold our breath at the narrative of her trials and at
the monstrous wickedness of her tormentors, and
ask, as she did, "Why did God permit it?"
For a purpose, doubtless, a great purpose. The
God of truth and holiness, who ever brings good
out of evil, has, we believe, permitted this great
enormity, and brought it to light at this time, in
order to teach those who will be taught, the
iniquity of a system set up in contradiction to His
word, which requires the support of such means.
Every circumstance of the discovery, &c., shows
his superintending agency. Sister Mary, who.
twenty-one years ago, knew of the confinement of
3U
A FEW WORDS ABOUT
the wretched girl, and who, as well as the other
nuns, suspected evil from the first, never dared to
make investigation. Even when God so pressed it
home on her conscience that she was constrained
to make the attempt to see the victim, and found
her worst fears realized, she felt that death to her¬
self, or worse, would be the consequence of her
making it known to the Bishop, who is supposed, in
his visitations, to See that all is properly done in
these institutions.
Oh, happy religious seclusion, in such a house¬
hold ! This despotism, however, this mortal fear
for herself, God overruled for His purpose. Had
she made it known to the Bishop, and he, horrified
at the enormity of the wickedness, had used his
authority to punish the perpetrators, it is not to
be doubted that in order to save the scandal, the
knowledge of the crime would have been confined
to a few trusty friends of Holy Church. But God
would have it known to the world, and Sister
Mary is compelled to appeal to the civil authority.
The civil authorities deferentially refer to the
Bishop.
However much of guilt the Bishop might know
among his religueses, it was doubtless incredible to
him that such an unheard of atrocity was enacting
in a house under his immediate supervision, to
which the genial manners of the pious Confessor
and the blandishments of the Superior made his
BARBARA UBRXK.
335
visits matter of pleasure rather than duty ; and he
leaves it to the civil authorities to clear the convent
of so foul a calumny ; and so it is revealed to the
world in all its hideousness.
We find no fault with the Bishop in the matter.
His conduct on the discovery was only what his
own safety and that of his Church demanded.
Had he evinced any desire (which we trust he had
not) to screen the culprits, no one can say to what
excesses a populace infuriated by such a provoca¬
tion might have gone. It is given out that the
wicked priest committed suicide, and that the
Bishop, notified of the fact, ordered his immediate
burial. It may be so—at all events, we hope he is
not transported for safety to our favored shores.
We have yet to see what punishment is meted out
to the Lady Superior, who is, as usual, of a wealthy
and influential family. The civil authorities quell
some demonstrations of the populace, the Bishop
pronounces the convent abolished, and the matter
ends, so far as the Church is concerned.
That the God of mercy may have sent the light
of his truth into the soul of one whom he has used
as a beacon to warn multitudes in future from this
specious device of our great adversary, every heart
must devoutly pray ! How by her single case has
he turned the whole system inside out, that all may
look on the deformity of its constitution ! Think
of this wicked man claiming and exercising the
336
A FEW WORDS ABOUT
prerogatives of God among these women, reared ir
the debasing superstition and the slavish veneration
for the priesthood which characterizes Romanists-
ransacking at the confessional for twenty odd years,
their hearts, their consciences, their lives ; and
behold them following the Mother to the midnight
devotions, when they doubtless often know that
she has just returned from a visit to her wretched
victim! With such examples, and the polluting
Breviary substituted, as it is, for the Bible in the
convents, what wonder that they readily fall into
heathenish ideas of the religion of Christ, and
worship Mary, or Pio Nino, or a bit of wafer ! They
tell us of the happy contentment of the inmates of
these institutions, and perhaps of their privilege of
appeal against arbitrary authority, and we have
seen with how much truth.
The more arbitrary the power, the more difficult
must always be the opportunity to appeal, from
the nature of the case. The question naturally
forces itself on the mind, " What amount of
tyranny, spiritual and physical, had these women,
so long subjected to this depraved government,
endured, and at what cost of moral degradation
had they purchased any measure of freedom and
favor ?" The priest had, it appears, been always
received in such a manner as to be wholly un¬
prepared for a repulse ; and Madame, although,
as he says, "what the outside world would call
BABBABA UBBYK.
337
jealous," and disposed to make her rivals feel her
power, was not irreconcilably opposed to Mormon-
ism. The Bishop's timely caution to Gabrilla, who
had been for nine years the accidental depository
of much of the convent scandal, " to say nothing
but what "related to Sister Barbara," evidently
saved much exposure.
We talk of tyranny if we are oppressed but a
httle—but has the outside world a despotism to
compare with this religious seclusion ? Thus it
has always been, and thus it must always be, with
such organizations. Formed at first often from
ardent but mistaken notions of serving God, they
may, under the most favorable circumstances, con¬
tinue pure for a while, but so long as human
nature is what it is, corruption and vice will creep
in. The power to tyrannize, inseparable from the
system, has always made tyrants, and always will
make them. Visitations and inspections can never
effectually guard against concealed misconduct,
because conducted by those interested in the con¬
cealment. The world has its penitentiaries and
other places of restraint for criminals, and phi¬
lanthropists are continually seeking to ameliorate
their condition ; but it has no such loathsome
receptacles for the treatment of human guilt as we
learn that Rome at this present time prepares in her
happy abodes to discipline the spouses of Christ. If
H 38
A FEW WORDS ABOUT
they do not contemplate such punishments, why
build such places in their institutions ?
Dreadful crimes have always come to light 011
the partial opening of these places, but what
horrible revelations would the breaking up of the
whole disclose 1 How many Sister Barbaras are
languishing in dark and dismal cells in our own
country, ay, in the heart of our cities ? Although
Sister Barbara may be, by pre-eminence, the
victim of the time, she is not the only one who has
escaped to tell the tale of oppression and misery
in which these communities exist ; and the courts
of England have had lately to deal with such a
case. In view of the developments which we have
been reviewing, which corroborate the testimony
of multitudes of other cases, it is impossible to
resist the conviction announced some years ago by
an English statesman, in the House of Commons,
as his deliberate judgment, " that, as a general
rule, these houses are to their inmates either a
prison or a brothel and we ask Protestants to
consider well their responsibilities before en¬
couraging, in any way, the formation of Sister¬
hoods, Brotherhoods, and such like organizations,
all of which, whatever may be the vows taken in
the beginning, lead directly to these deplorable
results. The very questionable advantages to be
secured are dearly purchased. Bather let every
BAKBARA UBRYK.
339
man, woman and child do their individual duty
" in that state of life to which it has pleased God
to call them," and the world will soon rid itself of
such unnatural and wicked contrivances. Let
every Roman Catholic and Protestant read the
narrative of Barbara TJbryk, the imprisoned nun,
and then decide on the merits of convents.
APPEXDIX.
A.
By tliis high sounding appellative were really
meant the simple rules of Arithmetic: Algebra,
Geometry and other higher branches, as Moral
and Mental Philosophy, finding little or no place
among the teachings in the convents. With what
consistency, indeed, can one expect proficiency in
such studies to be acquired in the schools of a
Church which has ever opposed the progress of
science, as inimical to religion, and whose present
head has deemed it necessary to send forth an
Encyclical denouncing the Inductive Philosophy, as
well as the achievements of modern science and
civilization in general! The uniform results of
training in these institutions conclusively prove
that with much ostentatious parade of the me¬
chanical appliances for educating, the instructors
are lacking in the qualifications which might
enable them to impart a useful and thorough
education ; and so it must necessarily be, so long
as they adhere to their system.
'■urn
APPENDIX.
341
B.
See the Te Deum of St. Bonaventura, in which
we also read, " Thou, vrilh thy Son, sittest at the
right hand of the Father." " O Lady, save tLy
people, that they may be partakers of thy Son's in¬
heritance," etc.
The Lord Jehovah has solemnly warned us, "I
will not give my glory to another." How far to¬
wards stamping the mark of apostasy on the
Church of Rome (if she had no other), does this sa-
criligious appropriation of one of the most solemn
and majestic uninspired hymns ever written in the
praise of God, go ? That Church has made it her
own act by enrolling the name of the blasphemer
among her saints. Thus she gives the glory of
God to Mary I
0.
The original of Madge was well known to the
writer, and the monstrous perversion of mind and
morals exhibited in her deportment on leaving the
convent, after seven or eight years' training in
those institutions, would, if transcribed to these
pages, exceed belief. While under the judicious
influence of a Protestant lady, with whom she
afterwards resided, she became a useful and
respectable woman.
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