The community of the _Descalzas_ (unshod nuns) had more than once
been thrown into great consternation on seeing their prioress--for to
that office had her sanctity raised the subject of my story--reduced,
for many days together, to absolute abstinence from food and drink.
Though prostrate, and with hardly any power of motion, she was in
full possession of her speech and faculties. Dr. Carnero, a physician
well known in these parts for skill and personal respectability,
attended the patient, for though it was firmly believed by the nuns
that human art could not reach the disease, it is but justice to say,
that no attempts were visible to give it a supernatural character
among strangers. The doctor, who seems to have at first considered
the case as a nervous affection, wished to try the effect of a
decided effort of the patient under the influence of his presence and
authority; for among nuns the physician is next in influence to the
professor. Having therefore sent for a glass of water, and desiring
the attendants to bolster up the prioress into a sitting posture, he
put it into her hand, with a peremptory injunction to do her utmost
to drink. The unresisting nun put the water to her lips, and stopped.
The physician was urging her to proceed, when to his great amazement
he found the contents of the glass reduced to one lump of ice.--We
had the account of this wonder from the clergyman who introduced us
to the nun. Of his veracity I can entertain no doubt: while he, on
the other hand, was equally confident of Dr. Carnero’s.
Our visit to the other convent made me acquainted with one of the
most pitiable objects ever produced by superstition--a reluctant nun.
Of the actual existence of such miserable beings one seldom hears
in Spain. A sense of decorum, and the utter hopelessness of relief,
keep the bitter regrets of many an imprisoned female a profound
secret to all but their confessor. In the present case, however, the
vehemence of the sufferer’s feelings had laid open to the world the
state of her harassed mind. She was a good-looking woman, of little
more than thirty: but the contrast between the monastic weeds, and
an indescribable air of wantonness which, in spite of all caution,
marked her every glance and motion, raised a mixed feeling of disgust
and pity, that made us uncomfortable during the whole visit. We had,
nevertheless, to stay till the customary refreshments of preserves,
cakes, and chocolate were served from within the double grate that
divided us from the inhabitants of the convent. This is done by means
of a semicircular wooden frame which fills up an opening in the wall:
the frame turns upon its centre, presenting alternately its concave
and its convex side. The refreshments being placed within the hollow
part; a slight impulse of the hand places them within reach of the
visitors. This machine takes the name of _torno_, from its rotatory
motion. But I must leave the convents for a future letter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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