Oh Popery, what a mysterious power is thine! Thou canst in a few hours
destroy powerful love which it took long years to cement in loving
hearts. When my father had left and I heard the porter lock the heavy
iron gate I felt an exquisite wretchedness come over me. I would have
given worlds for death at that moment. In a few moments the priest rung
a bell, and the old Jezebel the mother Abbess made her appearance. "Take
this heretic, Holy Mother, and place her in confinement in the lower
regions; GIVE HER BREAD AND WATER ONCE IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, THE WATER
THAT YOU HAVE WASHED YOUR SACRED FEET IN, NO OTHER; give her straw
to sleep on, but no pillow. Take all her clothing away and give her a
coarse tunic; one single coarse garment to cover her nakedness, but no
shoes. She has grievously sinned against the holy mother church, and now
she mercifully imposes upon her years of severe penance, that her body
of sin may be destroyed and her soul saved after suffering one million
of years in holy purgatory. Our chief duty now, holy mother, in order
to save this lost soul from mortal sin will be to examine her carefully
every, day to ascertain if possible what she most dislikes, or what
is most revolting to her flesh, that whatever it may be, she, must be
compelled to perform it whatever it may cost. Let a holy wax candle burn
in her cell at night, until further orders. And let the Tuscan heretic
be treated in the same way. They are both guilty of the same crimes." At
the word "Tuscan heretic," possessing the spirit of Christ that I knew
on earth. Yet how true it is that misery loves company; there was even
satisfaction in being near my unfortunate friend though our sufferings
might be unutterable. Still I was unhappy in the thought that she was
suffering on my account. Had I never said a word about borrowing a New
Testament, she would never have been suspected as being the direct
cause of my conversion to the truth, and of my renunciation of the vile
confessional.
I was somewhat puzzled to know what kind of a place was meant by the
lower regions; I had never heard of these regions before. But soon two
women in black habits with their faces entirely covered excepting
two small holes for the eyes to peep through, came to me and without
speaking, made signs for me to follow them. I did so without resistance,
and soon found myself in an under-ground story of the infernal building.
"There is your cell," said the cowled inquisitors, "look all around, see
every thing, but speak not; no not for your life. The softest whisper
will immediately reach the ears of the Mother Abbess, and then you are
loaded with heavy chains until you die, for there must be no talking
or whispering in this holy retreat of penance. And," said my jailor
further, "take off your clothes, shoes and stockings, and put on this
holy coarse garment which will chafe thy flesh but will bless thy soul.
Holy St. Francis saved many souls by this holy garment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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