My heart is hard, but it is not beyond the power of
omnipotence to touch and subdue it. An impression made on it this
moment, a whisper sent to its recesses, is not less worthy of your mercy
than an impression on inanimate matter, which only confounds my senses.”
The Superior interrupted me. He said, “Hold, those are not the words you
should use. Your very faith is incredulous, and your prayer an ironical
insult on the mercy it pretends to supplicate.” “My father, put what
words you please in my mouth, and I will repeat them,--if I am not
convinced, I am at least subdued.” “You must ask pardon of the community
for the offence your _tacit_ repugnance to the life of God has caused
them.” I did so. “You must express your gratitude to the community for
the joy they have testified at this miraculous evidence of the truth of
your vocation.” I did so. “You must also express your gratitude to God,
for a visible interposition of supernatural power, not more to the
vindication of his grace, than to the eternal honour of this house,
which he has been pleased to irradiate and dignify by _a miracle_.” I
hesitated a little. I said, “My father, may I be permitted to utter this
prayer internally?” The Superior hesitated too; he thought it might not
be well to push matters too far, and he said at length, “As you please.”
I was still kneeling on the ground, close to the tree and the fountain. I now prostrated myself, with my face to the earth, and prayed
internally and intensely, while they all stood around me; but the
language of my prayer was very different from what they flattered
themselves I was uttering. On rising from my knees, I was embraced by
half the community. Some of them actually shed tears, the source of
whose fountain was surely not in their hearts. Hypocritical joy insults
only its dupe, but hypocritical grief degrades the professor. That whole
day was passed in a kind of revelry. Exercises were abridged,--the
refections embellished with confectionary,--every one had permission to
go from cell to cell, without an order from the Superior. Presents of
chocolate, snuff, iced water, liqueurs, and (what was more acceptable
and necessary than any of them) napkins and towels of the finest and
whitest damask, circulated among all the members. The Superior was shut
up half the day with two _discreet_ brethren, as they are called, (that
is, men who are elected to take part with the Superior, on supposition
of their utter, superannuated incapacity, as Pope Sixtus was elected for
his (supposed) imbecillity), preparing an authenticated account of the
miracle, to be dispatched to the principal convents in Spain. There was
no need to distribute the intelligence through Madrid,--they were in
possession of it an hour after it happened,--the malicious say _an hour
before_. “I must confess the agitating exhilaration of this day, so unlike what I
had ever witnessed before in a convent, produced an effect on me I
cannot describe. I was caressed,--made the hero of the _fete_,--(a
conventual fete has always something odd and unnatural in it),--almost
deified. I gave myself up to the intoxication of the day,--I did verily
believe myself the favourite of the Deity for some hours. I said to
myself a thousand flattering things. If this deception was criminal, I
expiated my crime very soon. The next day every thing was restored to
its usual order, and I found that the community could pass from the
extreme of disorder in a moment to the rigidity of their usual habits. “My conviction of this was certainly not diminished within the few
following days. The oscillations of a convent vibrate within a very
short interval. One day all is relaxation, another all is inexorable
discipline. Some following days I received a striking proof of that
foundation on which, in despite of a miracle, my repugnance to a
monastic life rested. Some one, it was said, had committed a slight
breach of monastic duty. The _slight breach_ was _fortunately_ committed
by a distant relation of the Archbishop of Toledo, and consisted _merely
in his entering the church intoxicated_, (a rare vice in Spaniards),
attempting to drag the matin preacher from the pulpit, and failing in
that, getting astride as well as he could on the altar, dashing down the
tapers, overturning the vases and the pix, and trying to scratch out, as
with the talons of a demon, the painting that hung over the table,
uttering all the while the most horrible blasphemies, and even
_soliciting the portrait of the Virgin_ in language not to be repeated. A consultation was held. The community, as may be guessed, was in an
uproar while it lasted. Every one but myself was anxious and agitated. There was much talk of the inquisition,--the scandal was so
atrocious,--the outrage so unpardonable,--and atonement so
impracticable. Three days afterwards the archbishop’s mandate came to
stop all proceedings; and the following day the youth who had committed
this sacrilegious outrage appeared in the hall of the Jesuits, where the
Superior and a few monks were assembled, read a short exercise which one
of them had written for him on the pithy word “Ebrietas,” and departed
to take possession of a large benefice in the diocese of the archbishop
his relative. The very next day after this scandalous scene of
compromise, imposture, and profanation, a monk was detected in the act
of going, after the permitted hour, to an adjacent cell to return a book
he had borrowed. As a punishment for this offence, he was compelled to
sit for three days at refection, while we were dining, barefooted and
his tunic reversed, on the stone floor of the hall. He was compelled to
accuse himself aloud of every crime, and of many not at all fit to be
mentioned to our ears, and exclaim at every interval, “My God, my
punishment is just.” On the second day, it was found that a mat had been
placed under him by some merciful hand. There was an immediate commotion
in the hall. The poor wretch was labouring under a complaint that made
it worse than death to him to be compelled to sit or rather lie on a
stone floor; some merciful being had surreptitiously conveyed to him
this mat. An investigation was immediately commenced. A youth whom I had
not noticed before, started from the table, and kneeling to the
Superior, confessed _his guilt_. The Superior assumed a stern look,
retired with some old monks to consult on this new crime of humanity,
and in a few moments the bell was rung, to give every one notice to
retire to their cells. We all retired trembling, and while we prostrated
ourselves respectively before the crucifix in our cells, wondered who
would be the next victim, or what might be his punishment. I saw that
youth but once again. He was the son of a wealthy and powerful family,
but even his wealth was no balance against his contumacy, in the opinion
of the convent, that is, of four monks of rigid principles, whom the
Superior consulted that very evening.