The Jesuits are fond of courting
power, but they are still fonder of keeping it, if they can, to
themselves. The result of their debate was, that the offender should
undergo a severe humiliation and penance in their presence. His sentence
was announced to him, and he submitted to it. He repeated every word of
contrition they dictated to him. He then bared his shoulders, and
applied the scourge till the blood flowed, repeating between every
stroke, “My God, I ask pardon of thee for having given the slightest
comfort or relief to Fra Paolo, during his merited penance.” He
performed all this, cherishing in the bottom of his soul an intention
still to comfort and relieve Fra Paolo, whenever he could find
opportunity. He then thought all was over. He was desired to retire to
his cell. He did so, but the monks were not satisfied with this
examination. They had long suspected Fra Paolo of irregularity, and
imagined they might extort the confession of it from this youth, whose
humanity increased their suspicion. The virtues of nature are always
deemed vices in a convent. Accordingly, he had hardly been in bed when
they surrounded him. They told him they came by command of the Superior
to enjoin him a further penance, unless he disclosed the secret of the
interest he felt for Fra Paolo. It was in vain he exclaimed, “I have no
interest but that of humanity and compassion.” Those were words they did
not understand. It was in vain he urged, “I will inflict whatever
penance the Superior is pleased to order, but my shoulders are bleeding
still,”--and he shewed them. The executioners were pitiless. They
compelled him to quit his bed, and applied the scourge with such
outrageous severity, that at last, mad with shame, rage, and pain, he
burst from them, and ran through the corridor calling for assistance or
for mercy. The monks were in their cells, none dared to stir,--they
shuddered, and turned on their straw pallets. It was the vigil of Saint
John the Lesser, and I had been commanded what is called in convents an
hour of recollection, which was to be passed in the church. I had obeyed
the order, and remained with my face and body prostrate on the marble
steps of the altar, till I was almost unconscious, when I heard the
clock strike twelve. I reflected the hour had elapsed without a single
recollection on my part. “And thus it is to be always,” I exclaimed,
rising from my knees; “they deprive of the power of thinking, and then
they bid me recollect.” As I returned through the corridor, I heard
frightful cries--I shuddered. Suddenly a phantom approached me--I dropt
on my knees--I cried, “Satana vade retro--apage Satana.” A naked human
being, covered with blood, and uttering screams of rage and torture,
flashed by me; four monks pursued him--they had lights. I had shut the
door at the end of the gallery--I felt they must return and pass me--I
was still on my knees, and trembling from head to foot. The victim
reached the door, found it shut, and rallied. I turned, and saw a groupe
worthy of Murillo. A more perfect human form never existed than that of
this unfortunate youth. He stood in an attitude of despair--he was
streaming with blood. The monks, with their lights, their scourges, and
their dark habits, seemed like a groupe of demons who had made prey of a
wandering angel,--the groupe resembled the infernal furies pursuing a
mad Orestes. And, indeed, no ancient sculptor ever designed a figure
more exquisite and perfect than that they had so barbarously mangled. Debilitated as my mind was by the long slumber of all its powers, this
spectacle of horror and cruelty woke them in a moment. I rushed forward
in his defence--I struggled with the monks--I uttered some expressions
which, though I hardly was conscious of, they remembered and exaggerated
with all the accuracy of malice. “I have no recollection of what followed; but the issue of the business
was, that I was confined to my cell for the following week, for my
daring interference in the discipline of the convent. And the additional
penance of the unfortunate novice, for resisting that discipline, was
inflicted with such severity, that he became delirious with shame and
agony. He refused food, he got no rest, and died the eighth night after
the scene I had witnessed. He was of a temper unusually mild and
amiable--he had a taste for literature, and even the disguise of a
convent could not conceal the distinguished graces of his person and
manners. Had he lived in the world, how these qualities would have
embellished it! Perhaps the world would have abused and perverted
them--true; but would the abuses of the world ever have brought them to
so frightful and disastrous a conclusion?--would he have been first
lashed into madness, and then lashed out of existence? He was interred
in the church of the convent, and the Superior himself pronounced his
eulogium--the Superior! by whose order, or else permission, or at least
connivance, he had been driven mad, in order to obtain a trivial and
imaginary secret. ”During this exhibition, my disgust arose to a degree incalculable. I
had loathed the conventual life--I now despised it; and every judge of
human nature knows, that it is harder to eradicate the latter sentiment
than the former. I was not long without an occasion for the renewed
exercise of both feelings. The weather was intensely hot that year--an
epidemic complaint broke out in the convent--every day two or three were
ordered to the infirmary, and those who had merited slight penances were
allowed, by way of commutation, to attend the sick. I was most anxious
to be of the number--I was even resolved, by some slight deviation, to
tempt this punishment, which would have been to me the highest
gratification. Dare I confess my motive to you, Sir? I was anxious to
see those men, if possible, divested of the conventual disguise, and
forced to sincerity by the pangs of disease, and the approach of death. I triumphed already in the idea of their dying confession, of hearing
them acknowledge the seductions employed to ensnare me, deplore the
miseries in which they had involved me, and implore, with convulsed
lips, my pardon in--_no--not in vain_. “This wish, though vindictive, was not without its palliations; but I
was soon saved the trouble of realizing it at my own expence. That very
evening the Superior sent for me, and desired me to attend in the
infirmary, allowing me, at the same time, remission from vespers. The
first bed I approached, I found Fra Paolo extended on. He had never
recovered the effects of the complaint he laboured under at the time of
his penance; and the death of the young novice so (fruitlessly incurred)
had been mortal to him. “I offered him medicines--I attempted to adjust him in his bed. He had
been greatly neglected. He repelled both offers, and, feebly waving his
hand, said, “Let me, at least, die in peace.” A few moments after, he
unclosed his eyes, and recognized me.