aFther  Supm-ior's room.           j Novices' wash.l  t ti,>r S-'tl)erior's room.    room.
ov i ti~t(~ roorn.             Ic  1'ri(!st,,' room.
.otril g nttriity room.         I  Severi (lolors altar.
*ixters,' rf(,((tory.          m  Sfteristy.
r,ower itifirniary.             n S malll chapel.
Liirinary refcetory.           o San(-Ctiary.
t~firrtri,,ry kithellei.        p I'orelies or porti,~adl-roorn.                        coes.
-                  ~~~~~~q Ptri(,I corridlor.
r KStu(ly-room.
s ]3oarders' clothes                                       roomn.
,t Iicl)it-room.
____- I  -, St,,tt,ionery-roorr i.
r                   ~~~~~~v T.,-ea.,urer's room}
_~~ ~                                                                                                    ~~~ 1 _  FL
11 d
P "SPRxARI                                      P
z  Boarders'  r      4ettI                              L              5    Iii2 LL
fa~tory  _   I
~~~~ rttes  clteL tr    om
rl            |    t L L | Altars oftite Virgin Mary,  1. Academy buildirng,s.
1lC -   |' -       St. Joseph, etc.                                                  i t Cloister lPuilrlints in
C Confessionals.                        the form of a  ol-e                    e.
T-nr                                                       low square.
Ih1.A                       L'  Cotlmns.                         3. Infirrnary building.
|  Statue of St.Vincent.           4. Chapel.
(2~~~__ -1                                    -                                                                         Ui  ori
31v,,- 1!l                                                                                                       r'=ad  room
COMMUNITY
GAIRD'EN
Of those rooms not marh-ed I can not
speak with certainty.-Avithor.
FIRST STORY, OR GROUND-PILAN OF ST. JOSEPH'S.
I
p
0,
7p 4
I3 
1 Academy buildings.                   c Seats f
2 (loistcr buildilngs.                 d Orgaii
3 IJpper infirmary in the infirmary  e Orplat
building.                         f Chapel
4 Chapel.                              g Sewil
a Mistress of novices' room.           h Medici
b Retreat-room.                        i Rootiis
_ t)per) infirmiary in thle infi rmary  e OrpautlIs  galleries.
/~~building.                                       f Chapel of infiriySary
_ _   4 Chapel.                         g  Sewiing-roomtl.
1 _       r a Mistress of novices' room.           h  Me(icine-room.
_ -        b-   Retreat-room.                        i Rooniis for the sick.
iL   L
!:.-  F.    _
-~~~~1,         10       t         F                     r Distribto  romo.-E
-             10                            ID             F
6z 6
~~ -_lff._F~ 
1                                                 __,  n r2
|  a~~w l6~
in th           e galle ry.   j B   d nth-roo nls.
k Closets.
I Bed-clothing-roon
y            r. Secretary's roonm.
ni (Cells of'thie vow,'s2t~ r~'.
o Boarders'  infirma iy.
p Boarders' infirmiiary bati,,roons.
q Boarders' inifirmary r',Ji,,ory.
r Boarders'  iriedi(-ine-r(,,nc.
s Bed-room  attached  to thie  in                     firmary.
t Boarders'   wash-rooae.
]  Distribution-rooen.
v Library.
;,, Directres~'s room.
x Stationery-room.
'
7...........
v
:o7
94
5
d.. x _~~~
4
e
y Boarders' chapel.
z Boarders' dormitory.
5 Cabinet.
6 Strangers' apartments.
SECOND STORY.
L
, Passages.
8 Officers' stairs.
9 Balconies.
10 Cloisters. 
[[_ _ J | em | i  L| e___:                           _ _A _
_!1,                 _k_A I__ I.......2
e
aL 
1 Academy buildings.
2 Cloister buildings.
a Rooms for the old and infirm.
b Sister J. P.'s room.
c Wood-room.
d Wash-room.
e Cells for novices.
f Cloisters.
gTapestry and drawing room.
h Music-room.
i Class-rooms.
j Boarders' dormitories.
k Circular stairs to cupola.
l Balcony.
m Passages.
n Piano, harp, and guitar rooms.
Lj        1y- 
I
THIRD STORY.
7   Scre(
pla
All
CUI 
THE ENGRAVINGS.
TifE view of St. Joseph's, at or near Emmettsburg, is taken
from an engraving given in one of the circulars of that institution, designed to show the academy buildings; of course,
those buildings are made the most conspicuous and prominent in the picture, but, by close observation, the cloisterbuildings are seen fojlr2iiyg a large hollow sqcuare beyond the
chapel and the large building occupied by the boarders.
The interior Ildans of the Institution were made by Miss
Bunkley, entirely from recollection, some months before the
engraving was obtained, and, of course, may be in many respects imperfect, particularly as to the relative proportions
of the rooms. The ground-plan was found remarkably correct in the outline as compared with the engraving, and in
reducing it to the proper size for the book, in accordance
with the engraving, its relative proportions have been but
little altered.
The cells are doubtless too few in number.   They are
drawn too large for the scale, in order to make them more
distinct. In the main, it is believed that the interior will
prove a correct delineation, and will show an admirable arrangement for non-intercourse between the community and
the boarding-scholars.
The infirmary building stands distant from the cloister
building by the width of the balcony or porch in its rear,
but we have joined them, in order to bring the cuts within
the page.
At the conclusion of this volume will be found a Note, giving a full description of St. Joseph's Institution, extracted
from the " Life of Mrs. Seton," its founder; published by
Dunigan and Brother in 1853. This description came to
the knowledge of the editor only as the present work was
going to press.  The reader may, for himself, compare it
with Miss Bunkley's delineations; they will be found to correspond with remarkable precision, though prepared by her
in June last. and w-ithout the aid of any official statements 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
THE TESTIMONY
OF
AN ESCAPED
FROM TIE
SISTERHOOD OF ST. JOSEPH,
EMMETTSBURG, MARYLAND,
THE MOTHER-HOUSE OF THE SISTERS OF CHARITY
IN THE UNITED STATES.
BY
JOSEPHINE M. BUNKLEY.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBTISHERS,
FRA I LIN SQUARE.
1855.
NOVICE 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thou          sand eight hundred and fifty-five, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office for the Southern District of New York.
J(?;5 g +/  r'$
ax
q,7,16 
TiHE history of this book is almost as remarkable
as that of its subject.   Shortly after 3Iiss Butnkley
had escaped from St. Joseph's in the manner she has
stated in her narrative, the Superior of that convent
published a defamatory letter against her.  This decided [iliss Bunkley net only to d(efend hesel, but
also to give an exhibition of convent life, as it had
come under her observation, for the information and
warning of her American countrymen; and, in coming
to this determination, she did not act on her own judgment only, but availed herself of the advice of judicious friends, who believed that it was a sacred duty
to the American communuity and the best interests of
society to do so.
In accordance with this resolution, she wrote a narrative of what she had seen and heard while in the institution of St. Joseph, and committed the same for
revision, with other papers bearing on tche sul)ject, to
a gentleman in Norfolk,Yirginia, tjie city of her fether's
residence.
This gentlemian, without consulting her, made an
arrangement with a publishing house in the city of
A- VERTISEAIE-NT, 
xAl ) ERTiSEMEN'J.
\ew York for thie publication of the work, and sent <away a     p- ortion of the mainunscript, without perLen +ting h~ to cead at aerhe Ire Lad revised loc.A  This Gct
camne to the knowledge of a friend in New Jersey, a
g'eitleman of position and gre at courage and perseverance, who has taken a deep interest in this whole affair, and has enabled her to conduct the matter to a siccessful issue.  Without delay, she demanded, through
legal counsel, her narrative and other papers; but this
demand was refused.  She was compelled, in these
circumnstances, to give an order to her counsel to file a
bill for injunction to prevent the publication. After
several weeks fruitlessly spent by them in endeavoring to obtain possession of her manuscript for examination, a bill of injunction was at length filed in the
United States Court to suppress the publication of the
work, which had in the mean time been printed, but
not yet issuedo
A great deal was said in the newspapers, political
and religious, Protestant and Roman Catholic, about
this afiir, which induced 3Iiss Bunkley to set forth,
in a card to the, public, that neither the publishers
referred to nor any one else had been authorized by
her to publish her book, and stating that, in view of
these circumstances- not being able to recover her
manuscript-she should be under the necessity of rewriting her narrative, which would, of course, occasion some delay in its publication.  That she and her
friends had good reason to pursue the course which
she did, a very slight perusal of the work-a copy of
which the publishers brought into court-abundantly
proved. Another injunction was also obtained on her
x 
ADVERTISEMIENT.
likeness and autograph, which it was discovered had
been prepared for circulation withi the book.
Foiled in their attempt to bring before the public the
workl just mentioned, the parties in question shortly
after issued an anonymous and fictitious work, under
the title of THE ESCAPED NUN, against which 3Iiss
Bunkley felt it to be her duty to warn the public, inasmuchl as it was spoken of in the papers in some
quarters as her own.
N-either discouraged by these vexatious disappointments, nor intimidated by the threats of the hierarchy
of Rome and their abettors, 3iiss Bunkley, with the
advice of reliable friends, went forward, and, having
re-written her narrative, engaged the services of a gentleman, every way competent to the task, to revise it
and superintend the printing of her book. This task
he has executed with ability and fidelity, and to her
entire satisfaction.
Not a fact has been distorted; not a sentiment has
been modified; he has contented himself with performing the office of an editor, so far as Miiss Bunkley's
narrative is concerned. He has, however, subjoined
many notes, that contain facts and statements, derived
from authentic sources, which confirm the truth and
enhance the value of the narrative. l He also added
some chapters on the whole question of conventual
establishments, which will command, as they deserve,
profound consideration; and extracts from a long and
most important letter from the Rev. Dr. De Sanctis,
who, from his former official position in the Romish
Church, and at Rome itself, is well qualified to speak
on this subject. The whole book will be read, we are
xi 
ADVERTISEMIENT.
confident, with great interest by our American citizens
It sets before the world, in a clear and authentic manner, the true nature of convent life, even in the most
popular and the most worthy (if we may be allowed
the application of the epithet to any such establishment) of all the female " communities" of the Roman
Catholic organization. The appearance of the work,
though much delayed by the circumstances of which
we have spoken, will still be opportune, and (with
God's blessing) do much good.
xii
t. 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER I.
IMPRESSIONS OF CHILDHOOD.
THE church bell chimed the hour of prayer; sweetly and solemnly the sound floated upon the evening
wind, as a little child lingered to listen near an old
church-yard in the city of Norfolk. IHeated and tired
with play, she stood in the cool breeze, curiously
watching the crowds of people who passed rapidly by
and flocked into the sanctuary.   The composed and
devout expression of their countenances, as they eagerly pressed forward to reach the place in season, attracted the attention of the child, who besought her
nurse to follow the throng and enter the sacred precincts.  IIer attendant-one of those faithful domestics of the South who are intrusted with the charge of
young children, and who delight in obeying almost
implicitly the commands of their infantile masters and
mistresses -  readily consented; and, crossing  the
church-yard, they passed into the vestibule of the edifice. Pausing with childish surprise to gaze at those
who perfo.rmed the ceremony of sprinkling and cross 
14MISS BUNKLEY'S BOO()K.
ing themselves with holy water at the door, the little
girl seated herself near the entrance. While yet absorbed with the novelty of her position, and admiringly alive to the wonders that presented themselves to
her view, the deep tones of the organ swelled forth in
a melody of such surpassing sweetness that she clasped her hands in an ecstasy of delight; and turning to
her nurse, her innocent face radiant with pleasure, she
whispered, "How sweet! how beautiful!"  The music ceased, but left that young susceptible heart entranlced, bewildered, captivated. With wondering delight she continued to gaze upon the scene before her:
the altar with its rich decorations, the burning tapers,
the ascending cloud of incense, the paintings, the gorgeous vestments of the priests, the successive acts and
postures that contribute to the dramatic effect of the
Roman Catholic ritual-all this she beheld for the first
time in rapt and mute astonishment. It was as if
some heavenly vision were opened to her inspection,
and emotions newly awakened and indefinable fluttered in her bosom.   The pleasing variety of sounds, the
sweet perfume of aromatic exhalations, the unwonted,
the imposing solemnities before her, the sentiment of
reverential awe that breathed in all around-all contributed to enhance the impression of the senses, and
caused her heart to throb with pleasurable excitement;
and when, the service over, she rose and took the hand
of her nurse to return homeward, the child sighed
deeply, even as one aroused from happy dreams to the
dull realities of common life.
But far different were the impressions made by this
incident from those of a passing dream. They were
]4 
IMPRESSIONS OF CHILDHOOD.
deep and abiding, and were destined to control-oh!
how much and how powerfully!-the after life of that
child, upon whose sensitive being the seductive allurements of a sensual system had thus, at the early age
of six years, produced marked and permanent effects.
Results of momentous importance flowed from these
simple causes, which, operating so easily and so naturally upon the delicate organism of childhood, were
yet no random or accidental influences, but directed
with the nicest calculation, in accordance with the
most consummate knowledge of the intricacies of the
human heart, in every stage of its development from
the cradle to the grave-a knowledge ever applied with
unscrupulous skill and inflexible purpose to the advancement of the interests of the Church and the sub
servience of her designs.
Reader, the little child of this slight episode, as the
subject of these artful machinations, and in after years
the witness of their cruel success, narrates in the following pages her unvarnished story. How similar allurements, one by one, like the threads of a strong net,
were cast around her; how other and more overt influences were woven in, till mind and body were alike
enthralled; what schemes, what arts, what arrogance
and tyranny she beheld and suffered while under the
restraints and within the toils of Romanism-these
will constitute the burden of her narrative.
15 
16  ISS BUNKLE~YS BOOK.
CHAPTER II.
EARLY IMPRESSIONS DEEPENED.
THE imaginative and impressible disposition thus
early indicated was developed in childhood, not altogether without the control and guidance of a religious
education.   I can not recall the time when my heart
was not imbued with a natural reverence for sacred
things, or when they had not already awakened in my
mind a strong and unaffected interest. But these inclinations, common to most of those who have been
trained up under Christian nurture and admonition,
did not then lead me to that simple and humble apprehension of the saving truths of the Gospel, which
would havesatisfied the longings of a restless heart,
and obtained for it that peace which it vainly sought
in a system of ceremonial forms. Lofty aspirations
that reached toward some ideal good, unseen and uncomprehended by all around nme, drew me away from
that lowly position where, at the foot of the Cross of
Calvary, I might have realized the ardent desires of a
soul seeking communion with its Maker.  These very
aspirations were bringing me toward that religion
which offered them their full consummation, without
apparently requiring all the sacrifice of ambition and
pride which the sterner doctrines of the Bible demand,
16 
EARLY IMPRESSIONS DEEPENED.
The recollections of those brilliant and attractive
rites which had been witnessed with delight and wonder in early childhood, served as a continual contrast
with the severe simplicity of the Protestant worship,
and the rigid requirements  of the Protestant faith.
Often were these alluring ceremonies resorted to, and
with increasing pleasure, as my disrelish for the religion of my childhood grew strongelr. The fanciful but
plausible and poetic explanation of the services I beheld interested me. I saw beauty in the symbolic
ritual of Romanism, and began to inquire into the doctrinal basis of this edifice so stately and fair, upon
whose threshold already I stood.
}\Iy parents were worshipers in the Protestant Episcopal Church, and from childhood I was educated in
the doctrines of that Church, attending its public ministrations, and receiving instruction in the Sabbathschool. At the age of fourteen I was solicited to present myself for Confirmation, but I steadily refused to
do so, my attachment having been estrang 1t already,
if not entirely diverted to another system A worship.
It was then that I came to the definite conclusion of
investigating the tenets of the Roman Catholic Church.
I commenced the reading of books explanatory of those
tenets. These works were willingly furnished me by
Roman Catholic acquaintances, who had learned my
sentiments, and who, without directly and openly interfering to bias my convictions, urged me, with seeming candor and liberality, to acquaint myself with
"both sides" of the controversy, and to distinguish
between the good and the evil of a system so commonly misrepresented. Thus the very disposition to rise
1 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
superior to vulgar prejudices, and exercise an independent and responsible judgment in matters of belief,
was made a snare to me, as it has been to multitudes
of youthful minds.  Let me caution such against this
hidden danger. There is but one infallible guide to
all spiritual truth'i.  Without his direction, no research
of intellect is lawful, or can be fruitful of good.  The
indications of his presence and assistance are felt and
manifested only in that honest, humble, teachable, and
self —distrustf.ul te-iper, which becomes and invariably
distinguishes the searcher after truth.  One who has
most painfully felt the possibility of self-deception, in
the blind following out of hastily-formed opinions, and
concession to the impulsive promptings of a misguided
enthusiasm, would fain warn others to heed the counsels of the wise and virtuous, the mature and experienced around them, before they commit their spiritual
welfare and their temporal happiness to the guidance
of men presumptuously arrogating to themselves the
prerogative of Deity. The pure ray of heavenly light
'Ill attract and illuminate those only who steadily
turn aside their gaze from the glare of delusive phantasms, which amuse, but bewilder and lead astray.
God's word alone canl furnish that safe and unerring
guidance; God's spirit only can teach infallibly the
soUl.
0 
DOUBTS AND HESITATIONS.
CHAPTER III.
DOUBTS AND HESITATIONS.
IT were needless to recount the various phases of
mind through which I passed during the two years preceding my entrance upon a membership of the Roman
Catholic Church. It was, as I imagined, a deliberate
course of mature reflection that led me thither. Fascinated by the tinsel glitter and pompous parade that
conceal the internal hollowness and corruption of popery, I was ill prepared, however, at the age of sixteen,
to weigh arguments and discriminate between conflicting statements. Charmed by the consonance of those
doctrines of penance and supererogation which I now
learned, with my previously conceived notions of selfexertion and merit, I fondly hoped that, in becoming a
Roman Catholic, I might discover objects to attract
the intellect and engage the heart, exalted sanctity
and spiritual repose.
It is not to be supposed that this growing tendency
was unobserved and unopposed by my Protestant
friends, nor that their remonstrances failed entirely to
infuse doubt and hesitation. Often I seemed to stand
upon the brink of a fathomless abyss, looking off from
the precipice for some ray of light that might show me
a deliverance from the difficulties that encompassed
19 
MISS BUNKLEYRS BOOK.
me. Sometimes, indeed, the fear would rise lest, under the pressure of perplexity and distress, my mind
would utterly give way. All other thoughts were excluded while this one question of duty was incessantly
revolved. As my purpose of entering the Church of
Rome became confirmed, my friends sought to divert
my thoughts from the subject. They urged me to
abandon the seclusion to which I had devoted myself;
and endeavored to revive my spirits in scenes of amusement and gayety. Finding this ineffectual, my parenlts sent me to spend some time in the family of a
friend, a Protestant clergyman at Baltimore, during
which time I was not allowed an opportunity of attending the Roman Catholic service; but, at the expiration of my visit, I returned to Norfolk unaltered
in my desire to seek that peace of mind for which I
was longing, where so many assured me that I would
find it. The impressions fastened by early associations, and by many concurrent influences later, were
not of a nature to be dispelled by the frivolities of
fashionable society.  In these I found not even a transient satisfaction. I had no wish to become a votary
of the world; no disposition to look for happiness in
its trifling pursuits. The sole alternative that seemed
to present itself to a complete absorption in the follies
and vanities of earth, was that refuge which, as I was
ever reminded by sympathetic and attentive counselors, the true Church offered within her encircling arms
to all that were harassed with doubt, and wearied with
the cares of this evil world.
20 
FIRST VISIT TO THE SISTERS.
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST VISIT TO THE SISTERS.
IT was a lovely June evening, shortly after my return from the visit just referred to, when I wended my
way toward the house occupied by the Sisters of Charity at Norfolk.   I had reached the decision of making
known my spiritual state to them, and seeking advice
and direction, but without the knowledge or consent
of my parents, whose opposition to my change of religious connection continued as strong as ever.   I
ascended the steps and rang the bell; a little orphan
child obeyed the summons; and, having asked for the
Superior Sister, I was ushered into the parlor. It was
a plainly-furnished apartment, with darkened windows
admitting barely light enough to distinguish the various objects. After a short interval I heard a light
step; the door opened, and Sister Aloysia, then the
Superior Sister there, advanced to receive me.   She
was dressed in a black habit, with a white linen collar neatly turned over the cape; her face, which was
very pale, nearly concealed by a black cambric cap
drawn closely around her head.  Her beads were suspended from her waist, and she kept her hands clasped before her breast.  I introduced myself, and r'nformed her of the purpose of my visit. Smiling pleas
21 
MIS.S BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
antly, she led me to a window overlooking the grounds
of the institution, and, partly opening the shutters, she
bade me seat myself near her, and begged me to open
my heart to her without reserve. I did so. I told
her of my wvants, my aspirations, my uneasiness as to
my eternal safety, and my hope that in the bosom of
the Catholic Church I might find peace and rest.   I
told her that, having had little opportunity of informing myself thoroughly on the subject, I had embraced
the resolution of coming to her for counsel and instruction. When I ceased, she clasped my hands in hers,
and with cordial tones assured me how willingly she
would endeavor to assist me in my inquiries, and satisfy my scruples and doubts. After a long and firiendly conversation, she invited me to see the chapel, which
was in the second story of the building and at that
time was in quite an unfinished state.   As wve entered,
she knelt reverently before the altar, and said a short
prayer, and then, taking thence a crucifix, she devoutly kissed it, remarking, "How can Protestants be so
blind as to reject the cross on the ground that it savors
of popery, when they know that all their own hopes
of salvation must hang upon it?"
I left the house, promising to return after a few
days. fly second visit was not less pleasing and encouraging: the sister urged me to persevere, assuring
me that I would overcome all obstacles, and that in
due time my family would cease to oppose my entering the Chlurch.   At my third visit, she counseled me
to make known the state of my mind to a priest.
3leanwhile, however, my friends, having discovered my
determination to embrace Romanism, again sent me
22 
F'IRST  \IS I  T'O THl'IE S1STERS.
into the country.  Having returned after an absence
of a Iew wveeks, I resunmed my visits to the Sisters of
Charity.  A considerable change in the appearance of
the house had taken place since my last visit; the
parlors were newly furnished, the chapel beautifully adorned, and the grounds of the institution tasteiully laid out.  The Superior Sister whose acquaintance I had formerly made was no longer there; she
had been ordered to another station, and in her place
I found one who, by her shrewdness and plausibility,
wvas well fitted to fill the station to which she had been
appointed.  AWith five others she conducted a small
(lavy-selhool, composed of orphan children as well as of
some whose parents were well able to remunerate
them for their services as teachers.
The priest was now informed that I desired an interview.  A:t time was appointed for the purpose, and
as such a visit to me could not be agreeable to my
family, it was arranged that I should call at his residence.  I was accompanied by a young lady, a Roman
Catholic friend, who was educated at St. Joseph's, and
made a convert there, she being appointed by the
priest to accompany me, and was received very kindly
by the priest, who undertook to inform me fully as to
the doctrines and practices of the Church.   A few
weeks elapsed, during the course of which I repeated
my visit to my spiritual adviser, and at length a day
was fixed for my formal admission into the Churchl of
Rome.
ii 
IMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER V.
THF~ "BAR OF CONSCIENCE,,:
PREPARATORY to that formal reception into the
Church which I now sought, the candidate is required
to make, in the sacrament of penance, a full and general confession of all the sins of past life, in order that
the priest, by this secret and solemn communication,
may be acquainted with all the experiences of the
mind he desires to guide. This office is conducted
tenderly and adroitly with the young convert, who naturally shrinks at first from the disclosure of her inmost thoughts and feelings. The kind demeanor, the
parental solicitude exhibited by him whom she is now
taught to address by the endearing name of father, together with the impression of reverence due to his presumed sanctity and purity, combine most artfully and
efficaciously to overcome her timid reluctance. For
myself, in the flesh zeal and anxiety of a young proselyte, I was not disposed to evade any means prescribed for attaining the peace of mind for which I
was longing.  Convinced of the divine claims and authority of the Church, and feeling safe only in followfing out the advice of my constituted teachers, I thought
24 
THE' BAR OF CONSCIENCE."
mnyself but too happy if permitted to hope that in the
path they pointed out I could find the promised reward.   I approached the "bar of conscience" as the
requisite medium of preparation for worthily receiving
the Holy Communion-the great channel for the conveyance of spiritual grace to the soul.
Auricular confession is the chief and most potent
appliance by which the Church of Rome gains ascendency, and retains supreme control over individual
minds and bodies. Without it, she were a powerless
mechanism, a huge, inert mass, deprived of its motive
power and ruling energy. Take away this key-stone
o      f the a             rch tha t  supports the gorgeous structure, and
the whole edifice, with all its architectural strength and
magnificence, will crumble into ruins. It is the grand
secret of her success; the mystery of that tenacious
fortitude with which she has endured the countless attacks that have threatened her stability; the sovereign
remedy that heals the wounds inflicted by her assailants, counteracts the effects of inward disease, and
repairs the ravages of successive reforms and vast numerical losses. Superficial observers aseribe. the influenlce she exerts to the charm of her ostentatious ceremonies and her imposing ritual; to the theatrical display and sensual appeal of her worship. These are
indeed the agencies that at first attract, but it is the
revealments of the confessional that retain. These
are the bands of flowers thrown around the youthful
victim to draw her to the altar; but the ordinance of
confession is the sharp hook of steel that grapples her
till the sacrifice be accomplished. The robes, the crucifix, the pictures, the incense, the mass, the invoca                        B
25 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
tion of saints, the thousand and one enchanting and
gorgeous rites, make up, indeed, an attractive image,
apparently possessed of vitality and vigor; but confession, as it were, completes the galvanic circle that
keeps the form erect and active. Detach this, and the
figure falls, a pale, corrupting corpse, to the ground.
Well is this vast potency of the confessional known
to the priesthood of the Church of Rome, and hence
the solicitude and the zeal with which it has been upheld and defended. So fully conscious are they of its
importance, of its indispensable value, that sooner
would they part with any other cherished doctrine or
institution than with this, the most useful of all. Its
capabilities, indeed, can hardly be measured by calculation. Through its agency the hidden thoughts and
tendencies of the mind, the disposition, the temper, the
temptations, the weaknesses of every penitent, are laid
bare to the inspection of the priest, who may then direct and mould them at his will. By this channel he
becomes familiar with the thoughts and feelings, not
only of those under his immediate charge, but also of
all with whom these individual penitents may come in
contact; and thus the wide circles of society are opened to his intrigues and contrivances, to make proselytes, to confound the enemies of the Church, or to accomplish other and fouler purposes. Is there a Catholic in the cabinet:  what state secret remains unknown to the confessor?  Has a Catholic been initiated into the mysteries of Freemasonry or Odd Fellowship: does any one suppose that these will remain
unrevealed to the priests? Happy, it may be, are those
who, in their ignorance, are unconscious of this far
26 
THE " BAR OF CONSCIENCE."
reaching influence; for communities and nations would
tremble could they but realize the dangers to which
they are exposed through the power of the Romish
confessional.
27 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER VI.
MY FIRST CONFESSION AND BAPTISM.
AT the appointed hour of the day fixed for my first
confession, I was anxiously awaiting in the parlor of
the house of the Sisters of Charity the summons that
should call me to the little chapel where I was to meet
my spiritual instructor. It was already dusk when
the message came; and following the sister who had
brought it, I entered the door, drew aside the curtain
that screened it, and knelt on a hassock before a small
table, at which was seated the confessor. The chapel
was dark, illumined only by the flickering light of a
small lamp that burned before the altar, which was
decorated with vases of beautiful flowers, while from
the wall above it were suspended several exquisite
paintings.
With bowed head, and in trembling tones, from the
depths of my soul I poured, without reserve, the feelings and thoughts of my whole life into the ear of one
whom I considered my earthly guide; whose duty it
was to reprove, instruct, console the subjects of his
care with unremitting diligence, until he should deliver
up his trust to that God who had commissioned him
for the solemn task. My confession made, he breathed
over my head a prayer so touching and sublime that
28 
MY FIRST CONFESSION AND BAPTISM.
my faith seemed strengthened and my spirit calmed
by its holy influence. Relief from all those anxieties
and perplexities which had long wearied me seemed
at length within my reach; I felt myself raised above
the atmosphere of earth, and entering upon a sanctuary
of repose whence I had no desire to retrace my steps
into the world.
I was directed to return within a few days for a
second confession, and upon that occasion I received
absolution. Arrangements were now to be made for
my public reception into the Church; and, accordingly, it was decided that upon " Holy Saturday," or the
day after Good Friday, I should be "conditionally"
baptized.
Individuals entering the Roman Catholic Church,
if they have been baptized in infancy by Protestant
Episcopal clergymen, are not absolutely required to
receive the ordinance a second time; but, lest there
may have been some omission in its performance, which
would render the rite invalid according to the Romish
conception of it, the sacrament of baptism is then administered by the priest in a hypothetical or conditional manner.
On the morning of "I Holy Saturday," without the
knowledge of my parents, I left my house for the purpose of visiting a Roman Catholic family who resided
near the church, and at whose house I was to prepare
for the sacred ordinance. A simple white dress had
been provided for the occasion, with a long white veil
of muslin, falling over the shoulders and reaching to
the floor. No ornament was to be worn save a gold
cross suspended from the neck.
29 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
The ceremony had been widely made known, and
the church was filled to overflowing with curious spectators long before the service began. The moment
having arrived, I passed through the sacristy into the
church, and took my seat in a pew in front of the altar.
The priest soon entered, and we proceeded down the
aisle to the door of the church, where stood the marble
font filled with water, which he now consecrated for
use in the sacred ordinance. The usual ceremonies
were performed: a lighted candle was put into my
hand; I was anointed with oil; salt was placed upon
my tongue; I responded to the questions asked of me,
and returned to my pew a baptized member of that
Church whose fellowship I had so earnestly craved.
The following morning was Easter, the festival of the
Resurrection, and upon that holy day I made my first
communion.
Did these formalities of profession realize my longindulged dreams of comfort and peace? Did I enjoy
that complete tranquillity promised by the Church to
all who, in the proper reception of those sacraments
which are the channels of Divine grace to the souls of
her children, repose upon her bosom, forsaking all
other trust? I was, indeed, most happy. A deep
sense of security in the possession of the only true and
effectual system of salvation filled my spirit with calm
and joy. Morning after morning found me low bending in prayer before the altar of the chapel attached to
the church where I had taken my solemn vows. Evening after evening was spent in pious conversation with,
the Sisters of Charity, and in rapt meditation at that
shrine where I had made my first confession. My
30 
MY FIRST CONFESSION AND BAPTISM.
only happiness was now centred in these blissful moments, and again and again did I bless that Church
who had thus conquered my affections and taken captive my will.
But how far removed this security, this mystical
repose, these absorbed contemplations, from the spirit
and the practice of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ,
I can now at length perceive as I could not then.
That prayerful dependence upon a crucified and risen
Savior, which is the Bible Christian's only hope and
support; that conscious assurance of pardon and reconciliation through his blood; those delightful views
of his holiness, his condescension, his love, in the work
of redemption; that filial obedience which springs from
the strong emotion of gratitude and the desire of selfconsecration to his service-instead of these blessed
enjoyments of the Gospel believer, I was drawing all
my strength from a human and earthly source. My
Christ, the object of my devotion, the support of my
hope, the confidant of all my deepest interior wants,
desires, and resolutions, was the Church. I accepted
and trusted, not God's word, but the creed of the
Church. I relied upon and rejoiced in, not God's
promises, but those of the Church; my performance
of required duties arose, not from the thankful and
grateful consideration of the past mercies and present
favors of a reconciled God, but from the hope of ac quiring future defense and safety promised to those
who blindly follow the commands and precepts of the
Church. It was not from a serious and adequate per ception of the sinfulness of my own heart; of the ho lines,  and justice of God; of my danger as a guilty
31 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
and sentenced transgressor, that my religious convictions proceeded, but rather from a poetic sensibility;
from a weak desire of passive quiet and spiritual inaction; from a purpose to work out my own righteousness by deeds of meritorious value, in preference to an
humble reliance upon the righteousness of Christ which
is by faith. That such sentiments and views should
have led me to a temporary delusion in the bosom of
the Church of Rome is not to be wondered at; that
they should have given me no permanent and wellfounded repose is still less a matter of surprise.
32 
ATTRACTIONS OF THE CLOISTER.
CHAPTER VII.
ATTRACTIONS OF THE CLOISTER.
IT is not in the power of a religion of forms and willworship to render pleasant and promotive of spiritual
comfort those cares and duties which belong to an ordinary course of life. The intelligent Christian, indeed, may find in these employments an opportunity
of continual obedience, and a channel of communication with his Savior, who enables him, in whatever he
is doing, to glorify God. But the priest-taught and
governed subject of Rome learns to regard all the concerns of earth as contradictory to his spiritual frame
of life-as conflicting with that ascetic estrangement
from all the engagements of mortality; that mystical
elevation above human affection and emotion, which is
the highest grade of meritorious attainment. Thus,
either in the first ardor of conversion, or when the
false comforts of her system have been tried and found
wanting, the Church of Rome whispers to her disciple
longings for the perfect holiness and absolute repose of
the secluded convent.  To be truly " religious," signifies, in her distorted language, not to illustrate the
principles of the Gospel in all those humble but sanctified employments that belong to the lot where God
has placed us, but to fly from the scene of trial, and
B2
33 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
to abandon the relations of our providential position,
and to waste, in a condition of passivity and mental
vacuity, the precious moments of probation.
AIy religious advisers were not slow to suggest such
longings to my mind, and I was well prepared to entertain them. Home and society had already lost their
charms, and the details of domestic life had become a
painful burden. I found delight only in the contemplative retirement of the sanctuary to which I daily
resorted, and in the performance of religious practices
which had not yet lost their novelty. I was now led
to dwell much upon the happiness of those favored
ones who are enabled to abstract themselves entirely
from the temptations and anxieties of the world, and
dedicate their time without reserve to the service of
God. The cloister, I was assured, affords a safe retreat to all who would soar above the atmosphere of
earthly love, and gaze upon the pure light of holiness
and heaven. There I might find, in the perfect love
of God, a depth of peace, a complete repose, such as
the blessed on high are enjoying. There are natures,
I was told-and to these I felt that mine belongedso exalted in their aspirations, that human affections
can never supply the void of their hearts. Often did
I hear described in glowing words the condition of holy
men and women who had turned all their thoughts
away from earth, consecrated all their powers to God,
and spent their lives in ceaseless contemplation and
adoring love. I aspired to this perfection. At the
church, in the chapel, in my daily private devotions,
I earnestly besought Almighty God to make known
his will concerning me. I desired to devote my life
34 
ATTRACTIONS OF THE CLOISTER.
to his service; yet reason could not but revolt from
the monstrous supposition that God, who had given
mne affections and talents capable of use, would be
more honored by crushing them within the walls of a
cloister, by wasting strength in inaction, by burying
the heart in a living sepulchre. If such were his designs, then he had created but to blight the energies
of his creatures; and every object of beauty that his
hand had formed on earth was made without profit for
man, thus to be shut put from the enjoyment of the
natural world.
I indulged not unfrequently in these reflections,
and, as usual, opened my heart freely to those whom
I had taken for my  religious guides.   But all such
ideas I was told to regard as the suggestions of evil;
as temptations of the adversary, who would fain cheat
me of my blessed calling to a perfect and entire devotion to the religious life. I was brought to feel that
in the service of God the sacrifice of all these earthly
considerations was but lightly to be esteemed. Yes,
thought I, if this be God's will, I will renounce the
world; I will break off every natural tie, and yield
myself up a willing offering upon the altar of self-consecration.*
* Thus it is that the inexperience and simplicity of the young are
taken advantage of, commonly and systematically, by the priesthood of
Rome for the accomplishment of their own ambitious ends. "At an
age when the heart is especially open to those impressions which may
be called romantic or sentimental, the young person is beset with continual commendations of the heavenly state of a nun; she is told of
the innumerable dangers and difficulties that surround those who live
in this world, and of the ease with which she can serve God in a clojter."-Nuns and Nunneries: Sketches compiled entirely from Romish
Authorities.  IL,noon., 1852.
35 
3MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
Two or three instances of the lessons and instructions I thus received will illustrate what I desire to
communicate on this subject.
"Whoever," says St. Alphonsus Liguori, "consecrates her virginity
to Jesus Christ, is devoted entirely to God, in body as well as in mind.
Married persons, being of the world, can think of nothing but of the
things of the world. Thus poor worldlings meet with insurmountable
difficulties in the way of virtue; and the more exalted their rank, the
greater the obstacles to their sanctification. To become a saint in the
world, it is necessary for a married woman to adopt the means of sanctification, to frequent the sacraments, to make long and frequent mental prayer, to practice many interior and exterior mortifications, to love
contempt, humiliation, and poverty, and, in a word, to make every
effort in her power to please God. But how can a married person find
the time, the opportunities, and helps necessary for reflection, and
continual application to the things of God 7. The married woman must
provide for her family, educate her children, please her husband. [Is
this a sin?. The husband must be attended to; if his directions be
neglected, or his commands be not immediately executed, he breaks
out into complaints and reproaches. The servants disturb the house;
at one time by their clamor or their quarrels, at another by their importunate demands. The children, if small, are a perpetual source of
annoyance, either by their cries and screams, or by the endless variety
of their wants. If grown up, they are an occasion of still greater inquietude, fear, and bitterness, by associating with bad companions, by
the dangers to which they are exposed, or the infirmities with which
they are afflicted. How, in the midst of so many difficulties and embarrassments, is it possible for the married woman to attend to prayer
or to preserve  recollection?   But would to God," continues this
Romish advocate of the monastic life, "that seculars were exposed to
no other evils than these obstacles to their devotions, to constant prayer, and the frequent use of the sacraments.   Their greatest  misfortune is to be in continual danger of losing the grace of God and
their immortal souls. At home they must hold constant intercourse
with their own families, and with their relations, and with the friends
of their husbands. Oh! how great, on such occasions, is the danger of
Losing God!  This is not understood by young persons, but it is well
known to those who are settled in the world, and who are daily exposed to such dangers. Oh! how unhappy is the life of the generality
36 
ATTRACTIONS OF THE CLOISTER.
While I was in Richmond, Virginia, an unmarried
Protestant clergyman accompanied me to the Roman
Catholic church. The next time I saw my confessor,
he said he had learned I intended marrying that gentleman. I replied I had never thought of doing so. Then
he told me I must never be seen with him again, because it brought scandal on the holy Church. IHe
said he had noticed me from the altar, and then, in a
threatening attitude, he farther said, "Just let me see
you with him again." HIe continued for some time in
this angry manner to scold and threaten me. I was
much alarmed; his violence terrified me; I burst into
tears, and assured him again and again that I did not
intend marrying, and I should never think of a union
with one out of the Church. I promised to obey im
of married persons! I have known the circumstances, the feelings,
and dispositions of numberless married persons, from the highest to
the lowest classes of society, and how few of them were contented!
The bad treatment of husbands, the disaffection of children, the wants
of the family, the control of relatives, the pains of childbirth, which are
always accompanied with danger of death; the scruples and anxiety
of conscience regarding the flight of opportunities, and the education
of children, plunge poor seculars into endless troubles and agitations,
and fill their souls with continual regret for not having been called to
a happier and more holy state. God grant that in the midst of such
troubles and agitations many of them may not lose their immortal
souls; and that along with passing through a hell in this life, they
may not be condemned to an eternity of torments in the next.
"The state, then," concludes this holy man, "of virgins consecrated
to Jesus Christ, and who are entirely devoted to his divine love, is of all
states the most happy and sublime. They are free from the danger to
which married persons are necessarily exposed. Their affections are
not fixed on their families, nor on men of the world, nor on goods of
the earth, nor on the dress and vanities of women.   They are'  -
shackled by worldly ties, by subjection to friends or relatives, and are
far-removed from the noise and tumult of the world."
37 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
plicitly his commands, and implored him to overlook
and forgive this offense which I had unconsciously
committed. After a while he became calm, and permitted me to depart, saying, in the usual manner, "Go
in peace, my child." When I returned to my residence, my eyes were so much swollen with weeping
that my sister asked the cause. This I durst not
communicate to any one, because it occurred in the
confessional. This priest was a vicar-general.
Another priest once asked me if I were married, to
which I answered in the negative. Then he asked
me if I thought of marrying, which I also answered in
the negative.   "Well, my child," said he, "it is infinitely better to live a life of celibacy, and escape all
those ills," etc., and proceeded to enumerate in detail
what he called the ills of married life.
Such are the representations and arguments which
are set forth for the inducement of the young and ignorant to commit themselves to those "priests' prisons for
women," where the security of home and domestic defense is exchanged for the oppression of heartless "superiors," where the gentle discipline of care and trial,
which God himself has appointed to our lot for progressive culture and sanctification, is bartered for the
cruel barbarities of the whip and the sackcloth, exposure to cold and hunger, privation of all comforts,
and destitution of all friendly regard; where the active
duties of a benevolent Christian life are forsaken for
the foolish, senseless absurdities of idol-worship and
works of self-righteous zeal.
38 
VISITS TO THE CONVENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
VISITS TO THE CONVENTS.
INFLUENCED by these counsels and suggestions, I
inclined strongly, before many weeks had elapsed after my entrance into the Church of Rome, toward the
vocation of a recluse. But in order fully to convince
myself of the attractions of that calling, I determined,
with the approval of my spiritual advisers, to visit
some of those institutions of which I had heard such
praise. In the summer of 1852 I left Norfolk to visit
the Carmelite Nunnery, the Visitation Convent, and
the "Mother House" of St. Joseph's, that fountainhead of female Jesuitism in this country.
On arriving at Baltimore, I received a permit from a
priest to visit the Carmelite Nunnery on Aisquith
Street, occupied by sisters of the order of St. Theresa.
I was at once admitted, doubtless in consequence of
the fact that my inclination toward the convent life
had been made known, since visitors are but rarely
permitted to enter the walls of this institution. I did
not, however, obtain the desired opportunity of in specting the internal and domestic arrangements of the
place, for the Superior was ill and could not receive
me. This message was brought to me at the grating
of the parlor by a nun closely veiled, and while con
39 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
versing with me she suddenly drew aside her veil, and
cast upon me an earnest and searching look, express ive of the deepest interest andcl sympathy.   I shall
never forget the expression of that countenance, the
death-like pallor of which showed traces of long men tal and bodily suffering-indications corroborated by
the mournful gentleness of her voice. I did not then
connect these symptoms with any idea of the cruelties
suffered by the inmates of these institutions-cruelties
so well calculated to produce them-for I had then no
glimpse of the dark side of the picture; but I left the
convent with emotion as of one who had looked upon
a visitant from another sphere. Poor nun! I have
never seen her since. Perhaps she is still pining in
her cage, vainly longing for the perfume of flowers,
and the health-laden breath of the south wind on her
pallid cheek. More likely she has passed away, and
her only memorial is the mound in the convent garden
that indicates the place where her poor shattered frame
is resting in the grave, dug by her own hands while
living.
Although at that time aware that the discipline of
the Carmelite order of nuns is peculiarly severe, it was
not until my residence at St. Joseph's, where I had
opportunities of obtaining such information, that I
learned the nature of the barbarities practiced by the
followers of St. Theresa, under pretext of rendering
themselves acceptable to God. A brief statement of
these rules may interest those unacquainted with the
system, and afford some warning to inexperienced girls
against the wiles that might entice them into such a
tomb of horrors.
40 
VISITS TO THE CONVENTS.
The Carmelite nuns are required to fast during eight
months of the year. This fasting, which is often excessive, contributes to their pale and emaciated look.
They wear constantly a garment of hair-cloth next to
the skin, which keeps up an incessant feverish excitement of the system. During the heat of summer they
sleep between woolen blankets, and in the severities
of winter they are furnished with scarcely clothing
enough to keep them from the effects of the frost. As
a penance for the slightest infiaction of the regulations,
and often as a prescribed religious exercise, the " discipline" is used, that is, the application of a whip cornposed of several leather thongs to the naked back,
with all the strength of the person wielding it. The
screams of sufferers under this infliction are the only
sounds that relieve the dreary silence of these walls,
and have been heard at times by passers-by at the
lonely hour of midnight.   This "discipline" is often
continued till the blood flows at every stroke of the
whip. For minor faults the nuns are sometimes required to describe a cross on the floor with their
tongues, which may leave the mark in blood, in token
of deep humility; and, finally, their own graves are dug
by themselves during life, as a reminder of the hour
of dissolution, the approach of which, by all these enormous barbarities, equaled only in the records of savage
or Inquisitorial torture, is so effectually and rapidly
hastened
In this convent it was that Olivia Neal was confined, and from it she made her escape, only to be imprisoned the second time by the use of main force.
I shall have occasion hereafter to refer to the case of
41 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
this unfortunate victim of priestly violence; but, as inquiries have frequently been made as to her present
abode, I will here state that she is now an inmate of
the asylum at Mount Hope, Baltimore, a hopeless maniac, driven to desperation by her tormentors.
Shortly after my visit to the Carmelite nunnery I
called at the Convent of the Visitation, situated upon
the corner of Park and Centre Streets, in the same
city. This is a large building, with grounds attached,
and surrounded by an elevated wall. A nun soon appeared at the grating, when I handed her a note for
the Superior.   She directed me to walk to the left
door. I heard the withdrawal of several bolts, and the
door was opened by some invisible hand, then closed
behind me, andcl the bolts were pushed over the door
from an adjoining apartment, separated from that where
I now stood by iron bars extending from the floor to
the ceiling. This was the convent parlor, and through
this iron grating persons are sometimes allowed to
converse with the nuns. Soon a nun approached the
bars, which formed a partition across the entire width
of the apartment, and told me that she would open the
door to admit me into the rooms beyond. The bolts
were withdrawn as before. I returned into the vestibule, and stood at the door where the nun had first
appeared. After the removal of several bars and bolts
again, this door opened and closed violently behind
me; it was fastened as before, and I could just discern, through the almost total darkness, two nuns, one
of whom bade me follow her. I was taken through
several passages to the library, or large room, well supplied with books, where several nuns were seated and
42 
VISITS TO THE CONVENTS.
engaged in reading, while others, also with books before them, kept their eyes fixed immovably upon the
floor, not even turning to notice the stranger who had
entered. I was next taken to the chapel, a circular
apartment, with a richly-decorated altar. On one side
of the room was a grating in the wall, through which
I could distinguish the pale faces of several nuns who
were kneeling in prayer. After visiting the dormitory,
the music-room, and other apartments occupied by the
pupils of the academy attached to the convent-for I
was not allowed to visit the cloisters-I left, promising to return soon for the purpose of an interview with
the Superior, who, at the time of this first visit, was
engaged, and could not conveniently receive me.
43 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER IX.
THE SUNNY SIDE OF CONVENT LIFE.
I HAD received from the Superior of the institution
of St. Joseph's, at Emmettsburg, an invitation to visit
that establishment, of which I had heard frequent eulogy, and which I had long desired to see. I accordingly proceeded thither from Baltimore, and reached
the gate of the institution at about nine o'clock in the
evening. I left the stage at the gate, and proceeded
up the walk. A portress opened the door, and conducted me to the strangers' apartment; as the hour
was late, I could not see the Lady Superior till the
next morning, and after taking some refreshment I retired.
At an early hour I was awakened by the sound of
a sweet strain of music; it proceeded from the chapel
near by. The deep tones of an organ swelled forth,
accompanying the rich voices of singers in a hymn of
solemn and inspiring melody. I listened in a trance
of delight to the exquisite combination of parts and the
melodious alternations; now subdued and tender, sinking almost to a whisper, and fLow bursting f~rth into
a full chorus of perfect harmony, while the anthem
would be caught up by some single voice, whose thrilling tones, higher and higher ascending, seemed at last,
44 
TIIE SUNNY SIDE OF CONVENT LIFE.
like the matin song of the lark, to come from heaven's
gate, pleading for admission there. It were impossible to describe the impressions made by these heavenly sounds, thus rising upon the stillness of the early
morning, as heard by one already prepossessed in favor of the religious life whose utterance was heard in
such delicious strains. It seemed the outbreathing
of a joy and tranquillity such as I had so long thirsted to experience, the source and motive of which were
the holy life and the blessed employments in which
those singers were engaged.
The few days now spent in this establishment were
appropriated, at the recommendation of the Superior,
to a "religious retreat," as it is termed - that is, a
course of spiritual practices, consisting of prayer, meditation, and devotional reading. During this space of
time every attention was paid to me, and every effort
made to influence me in favor of the convent life. The
condition of a " religious"* was painted in bright and
* The misapplication of this term, and of other words in the Romish dialect, is ably criticised by a popular writer. " Where a perversion of the moral sense has found place," says he, "words preserve
oftentimes a record of this perversion. We have a signal example of
this-even as it is a notable evidence of the manner in which moral
contagion, spreading from heart and manners, invades the popular language- in the use, or, rather, misuse of the word'religion,' during
all the age of papal domination in Europe. Probably many of you are
aware that in those times a' religious person' did not mean any one
who felt and allowed the bonds that bound him to God and his fellowmen, but one who had taken peculiar vows upon him, a member of one
of the monastic orders.  A' religious house' did not mean, nor does it
now mean in the Church of Rome, a Christian household, ordered in
the fear of God, but a house in which these persons were gathered together according to the rule of some man-Benedict, or Dominic, or
some other A' religion' meant, not a service of God, but an order of
45 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
glowing colors, and every attraction calculated to please
and charm the taste was presented to my view. The
very atmosphere of the place seemed redolent with piety, and the inmates encircled, as it were, with a celestial halo. I was surrounded by comforts and luxuries such as I had not supposed were granted to the
members of a conventual establishment; the table, furnished with silver, was always well provided with choice
viands and fruits; the furniture was neat, and even
luxurious.*
In my interview with the Father Superior of the
institution, who was a priest from Spain, I explained
to him without reserve my reasons for visiting these
establishments, and asked his advice respecting my
monkery; and taking the monastic vows was termed going into a' religion.' Now what an awful light does this one word, so used, throw
on the entire state of mind and habit of thought in those ages! That
then was religion, and nothing else was deserving of the name. And
'religious' was not a title which might be given to parents and children, husbands and wives, men and women fulfilling faithfully and
holily in the world the several duties of their stations, but only to those
who had devised self-chosen service for themselves." —TRENCH on the
Study of Words, Lecture I. To vindicate this statement against the
charge of being grounded on a mere popular use of the word in question, the author quotes a decree of the great Fourth Lateran Council
(1215) forbidding the farther multiplication of monastic orders. The
passage runs thus: "Ne nimia religionum diversitas gravem in Ecclesia Dei confusionem inducat, firmiter prohibemus, ne quis de cetero novam religionem inveniat, sed quicunque voluerit ad religionem converti,
unam de approbatis assumat."
* The community of St. Joseph's at Emmettsburg, which was founded by Mother Seton in 1809, is in the main modeled after the society
of St.Vincent de Paul, in Paris, and is the Mother House of the community in the United States.  Besides having, like all sisterhoods, a
female or Mother Superior, it possesses also a male or Father Superior, who is a priest
46 
THE SUNNY SIDE OF CONVENT LIFE.
embracing a religious life. He encouraged me, and, in
order to form a judgment of my religious qualification,
desired me to make a full confession, commencing with
the time of my entering the Church. I did so, and
was told that I had a true call from God-a vocation.
But it had not formed part of my intention to enter
at once upon this vocation, and accordingly I left, after a short and delightful stay, the institution of St.
Joseph's, to return to my home. At that time it was
my purpose to revisit the place, and enter upon my
novitiate within the period of six months; but circumstances of the most painful nature prolonged that
interval. WVhen I left home upon this visit my mother was in excellent health.  How great was my distress at receiving, before I left St. Joseph's, a telegraphic dispatch announcing that my dear mother had
been attacked by the yellow fever, and was already at
the point of death. I hastened home, but too late to
receive her blessing, or even to take a last look at her
remains, the message having been delayed at Baltimore.
AIy feelings on reaching my desolate home I shall not
attempt to describe; those only who have experienced
such a loss can represent its anguish to themselves.
ZIy mother left a babe of twelve months, who has ever
since been inexpressibly dear to me. I have but once
approached her grave, and then was conveyed away in
an unconscious state. But this is a theme upon which
I can not dwell.
WVhen six months had expired after my return, I received a letter from the Superior, inquiring whether I
had relinquished the idea of consecrating myself to the
service of God. That letter I left unanswered. A
47 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
year elapsed, during the latter part of which I frequently visited the Sisters of Charity at their missionhouse near my home. They, as well as my spiritual
advisers, encouraged me to go forward in the path
marked out for m& by Providence, assuring me that
even on earth I should arrive at a nobler and worthier
life than the world could afford.
Had I but heeded one voice, however, which warned
me to beware, I should have been spared many days
of misery and wretchedness.
48 
ENTRANCE AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
CHAPTER X.
ENTRANCE AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
IT was in the month of December, 1853, that, notwithstanding the continued opposition of my Protestanlt friends and family, and entirely without their
knowledge, I left Norfolk for Baltimore, with the secret
purpose of embracing the life of a "Sister of Charity."
While in Baltimore I was invited- to witness the imposing ceremony of the "taking of the black veil" by
a novice of the Visitation Convent. This rite has been
so often described that it were needless to repeat here
the well-known relation. It is a solemn and impressive pageantry, and the mystical character given to the
poor victim, the temporary importance to which she
is elevated in her own eyes and in the sight of beholders, and the loud hallelujahs sung over this living
burial of a soul intended by the Creator for light and
happiness, rob the scene of much of its intrinsic horror,
and excite in the breast of many an enthusiastic girl
the romantic wish to figure in so brilliant a spectacle.
* While the ceremony here alluded to is familiar to many in its external and dramatic features, there are probably but few who have had
the opportunity of examining the nature of the vows and prayers used X
on these occasions, as they are prescribed in the Pontificale Romanum
-a work little known outside of the ranks of the Romish clergy. The
C
49 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
I arrived at St. Joseph's at about half past eight on
an evening in the early part of January, 1854. Rain
following statements on this subject are from the pen of a friend, and
deserve particular notice, as illustrating the wicked and pernicious influences which are brought to the aid of a system based upon falsehood
and characterized throughout by gross delusion and shameless deceit.
The most marked peculiarity of this ceremony, writes my friend,
is its mystical character, and the complete confusion of material with
pseudo-spiritual ideas which pervades the service.
After various chantings and genuflections, the officiating pontiff
(bishop) consecrates the vestments of the virgins, and blesses their
veils.  Then he hallows the rings-the marriage-rings-saying,
"Creator Lord, send thy benediction upon these rings, that those
who shall wear the same, being fortified with celestial virtue, may
maintain entire faith and unbroken fidelity, and as the spouses of Jesus
Christ, may guard the vow of their virginity, and persevere in perpetual chastity. Through Christ," etc.
Then he consecrates the torques, or necklaces, etc. These actions
completed, the virgins, arrayed in the consecrated garments, their veils
excepted, return, two by two, to the pontiff, chanting as follows:
"The kingdom of this world, and all secular adorning, I have despised for the love of our Lord Jesus Christ.
"R. NVhom I have seen, whom I have loved, in whom I have believed, in whom I have delighted.
"My heart hath uttered a good word.   I speak of my works to the
king."
Then the pontiff, with his hands stretched out before him, repeats
sundry prayers, from which we select a few passages:
"Look down, O Lord! on these thy handmaids, who, placing in thy
hands the vow of their continence, make an offering of their devotion
unto thee, from whom they themselves have received the desire to
make this vow. For how otherwise could their mind, compassed with
mortal flesh, get the victory over the law of nature, the freedom of license, the force of custom, and the stimulants of youthful age (legem
nature, libertatem licentin, vim consuetudinis, et stimulos etatis), unless thou, 0 God, didst mercifully kindle in them, of thy free pleasure,
the love ofvirginity-didst graciously nourish the longing for it in their
hearts-didst minister unto their fortitude "
The following passage can not be given in English:
".... De largitatis tuae fonte defluxit ut cum honorem nuptiarum
50 
ENTRANCE AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
was pouring in torrents when the stage stopped at the
gate of the yard through which "postulants," or can
nulla interdicta minuissent ac super sanctum conjugium nuptialis benedictio permnaneret, existerent tamen sublimiores anime qua in viri ac
muliebris copula fastidirent connubium, concupiscerent sacramentum,
nec imitarentur quod nuptiis agitur, sed diligerent quod nuptiis prae
notatur.  Amen."
One more passage from this extraordinary prayer:
" Blessed Virginity confesses Him who is her author, and, rivaling
the integrity of angels, has devoted herself to the bridal chamber and
the bed of Him (illius thalamo, illius cubiculo) who is the spouse of
perpetual virginity, like as he is the Son of perpetual virginity."
In putting the consecrated veil upon the head of each successively,
the pontiff says,
"Receive thou the sacred veil, whereby thou mayest be known to
have contemned the world, as truly and humbly with the whole endeavor of thy heart to have subjected thyself as a wife to Jesus Christ
forever, who defend thee from all evil, and bring thee to life eternal.
Amen."
The virgins, being veiled, sing, "Posuit signum in faciem meam, ut
nullum preter eum amatorem admittam."
Then the virgins are again presented to the pontiff, two and two as
before, by the bridemaids; then taking the ring in his right hand, and
the virgin's right hand in his left, and putting the ring on the ringfinger of her right hand, he espouses the same to Jesus Christ (desponsat illas J. C.), saying to each severally,
"I espouse thee to Jesus Christ, the son of the Supreme Father,
who keep thee undefiled (illasam). Therefore receive the ring of
faith, the seal of the Holy Ghost, so that thou be called the spouse of
God, and if thou serve him faithfully, be crowned everlastingly. In
nomine Patris," etc.
Then the pontiff, rising, says,
"God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, who hath
vouchsafed to choose you to an espousalship like that of the blessed
Mary, mother of our Lord Jesus Christ (ad beatm Maria  matris Domini
nostri J. C. consortium);, hallow you, that in the presence of God and
of his angels, you may persevere, untouched and undefiled, in the integrity you have professed, and hold on your purpose, love chastity, and
keep patience, that you may merit to receive the crown of virginity.
Through the same Christ our Lord, Amen."
51 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
didates for admission into the establishment, enter.
This yard is inclosed on three sides by the chapel,
We shall only add some passages from the benedictions, and the
anathema with which this ceremony closes.
"0 God..... prepare them, under the governance of wisdom, for
all the work of virtue and glory, that, overcoming the enticements of
the flesh, and rejecting forbidden concubinage, they may inherit the
indissoluble copula of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. These, 0 Lord!
we beseech thee supply with arms not carnal, but mighty through
the power of the Spirit, that thou fortifying their feelings and members, sin be not able to lord it in their bodies and souls."
Again: "Let the shower also of thy heavenly grace extinguish in
them all hurtful heat (omnem nocivum calorem), and kindle up in them
the light of abiding chastity; let not the modest face be exposed to
scandals, nor negligence afford to the incautious occasions of falling."
Again: "God make you strong when frail, strengthen you when
weak, relieve and govern your minds with piety, direct your ways,
etc., etc., that when about to enter the bed-chamber of your spouse
(intraturme sponsi thalamum), he may discover in you nothing noisome,
nothing filthy, nothing hidden, nothing corrupt, nothing disgraceful;
that when the tremendous day of the repayment of the just and retribution of the bad shall come, avenging fire may find in you nothing to
burn, but divine goodness what to crown; as being those whom a religious life hath already cleansed in this world; so that when about to
ascend to the tribunal of the eternal king and the palaces on high, you
may merit to have protection with those who follow the Lamb, and
sing the new song without ceasing, there to receive the reward after
labor, and remain forever in the region of the living."
The benedictions ended, the pontiff sits down, and publicly pronounces anathema on any who may draw away from divine service
those who are under the banner of chastity, and on any one who may
purloin their goods, or hinder them from possessing their goods in
quiet.
The Curse. —" By the authority of the Omnipotent God, and of St.
Peter and St. Paul, his apostles, we firmly, and under the threat of anathema, enjoin that no one carry off these virgins or religious persons
here present from divine service, to which, under the standard of
chastity, they have been dedicated; that no one plunder their property, but that they enjoy it in quiet. If any one shall have presumed to
attempt this, may he be cursed in his home and out of his home; may
52 
ENTRANCE AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
the infirmary, and the convent proper. I waited at
the entrance for one of the sisters, who admitted me,
and led me through a porch, and along a dark corridor,
into the "novitiate," a room occupied by the novices,
he be cursed in the state (or city) and in the field, cursed in watching
and cursed in sleeping, cursed in eating and drinking, cursed in walking and sitting; MAY HIS FLESH AND HIS BONES BE CURSED, AND FROM
THE SOLE OF HIS FOOT TO THE CROWVN OF HIS HEAD MAY HE ENJOY NO
HEALTH. M[ay there light upon him the curse which the Lord sent in
the law by Moses on the sons of iniquity; may his name be erased
from the book of the living, and not be recorded with the righteous;
may his portion and his heritage be with Cain the fratricide, with
Dathan and Abiram, with Ananias and Sapphira, with Simon Magus
and with Judas the traitor, and with those who said to God,' Depart
from us, we will not follow thy ways.' MAY ETERNAL FIRE DEVOUR
HIM WITH THE DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS, unless he make restitution, and
come to amendment. So be it. So be it."-Pontificale Romanum.
Such, American fathers and mothers, are the disgusting dreams of
sensuality, the loathsome caricatures of spiritual truth, the horrible
mockery of the holiest relations, which Rome would furnish to your
daughters instead of God's own blessing upon a virtuous and useful
life! Such are the heathenish and blasphemous representations with
which she would fill their minds respecting that adorable Redeemer
whose truth she mutilates, and whose character she insults.  "Filthy
dreamers, ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God and our Lord Jesus Christ."Jude, iv., 8.  "Having eyes full of adultery, beguiling unstable hearts,
they speak great swelling words of vanity; they allure through the
lusts of the flesh;......... while they promise them liberty, they
themselves are the servants of corruption."-2 Peter, ii., 10, 14, 18,
19. Such, too, are the awful imprecations she pronounces upon anyupon you-who would presume to attempt to withdraw your child from
the barbarous treatment, the close confinement, the unmitigated misery
of a forced imprisonment in the nunnery! Say, then, is there no urgent call for such legal provision in this our free and happy country as
will secure to these poor victims of fantastic delusions and actual cruelties the permission and the opportunity to leave these "priests' prisons for women," and return to the guardianship of your love and the
protection of their homes 2 Answer in the name of God and of your
own obligations as parents, as citizens, as reasonable beings.
53 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
or "seminary sisters," as they are indifferently styled.
At the door of this room I was asked in a harsh tone
for the key of my trunk. On presenting it to the sister appointed to receive it, I was told, in a firm and decided manner, "With this key you renounce your own
will forever." The words fell like a doom on my
heart, and I could not but contrast the severity of this
language with my treatment upon my former visit. I
was then conducted to the refectory, where a small
piece of bread, and some coffee in a tin cup, were given
me. I scarcely tasted this food, and soon left the refeetory with a sister who conducted me to my sleeping apartment. We crossed a passage leading near
the Superior's room, walked down the corridor to a
passage beyond, and ascended a flight of stairs which
communicated with a number of cloisters, on each side
of which was a row of cells. We entered a room at
the end of the passage, containing seven or eight small
curtained bedsteads. The sister who accompanied me
pointed to one of these, which was numbered, and,
placing a dim lamp in a recess near the door, left the
room. It was with mingled emotions of surprise and
fear that I gazed upon this novel and unexpected
scene, scarcely lighted by the faint rays of the lamp.
54 
THE CONTRAST.
CHAPTER XI.
THE CONTRAST.
I NOW presumed that the introductory ordeal was
finished, and began to make preparations to retire and
obtain the rest so muchl needed after the fatigue and
excitement of the day. But my trials for the night
were not yet ended. Hearing a slight noise at the
upper end of the room, where there was another door,
nearly opposite the one through which I had entered,
I looked anxiously in that direction.  Presently an
aged sister, dressed in the "holy habit"-a costume
which will be described hereafter-came in, and approached me, holding in her hand a large cup filled
with a dark mixture, which she commanded me to
drink. I attempted compliance, but, finding the taste
intensely bitter and nauseous, after swallowing about
half the quantity, begged to be excused from taking
the remainder. Placing it again to my lips, she sternly ordered me to drink the whole. I obeyed in silence. The sister then informed me that she was the
"mistress of novices," and had charge over their conduct and employment, adding, that I must not rise
from my bed until called. She then withdrew.
A strange sensation of bewilderment and stupor sueceeded this incident, and I had scarcely strength to
55 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
draw the curtain around my bed, when I fell into a
deep slumber. I was awakened about four o'clock by
the deep toll of the morning bell calling to prayers in
the chapel.
The details here given show the art and skill employed to impress on the mind of the novice the absolute subjection to which she must submit, and of
which these are, as it were, the preliminary tests.
They go to prove that, from her first entrance within
the walls of the institution as a candidate for admission into the community, she must learn to obey, without hesitation or demur, whatever may be commanded
her, as the first step of her initiation  This, if rightly
managed, is an important point gained; for here, as in
all other matters, the impression made at the outset is
the most lasting and profound. Besides, the manner
in which these preparatory injunctions are submitted
to, whether cheerfully and instantly, or with expostulation and sullenness, must afford an insighlt into the
character and disposition of the postulant, of which advantage is taken in future proceedings, in order to render her docile and obedient.   In a word, these first
requirements are designed to teach the subject of them
that henceforth she has no will of her own, but the
will of the Superior is her lcaw, which must. be obeyed
even to the slightest   rticar.
It was some time after the first bell had soundedl
that a sister entered the room, approached my bed, and
in a low tone said that I might now rise and go to
mass, as the bell would ring in a few minutes. I rose
and dressed in haste, and then waited for the sister,
who conducted me to the chapel, where the commu
56 
THE CONTRAST.
nity had already assembled. I was directed to a seat
among the "postulants," near the sanctuary.  The
altar of this chapel is of white marble; above it is a
large statue of the Virgin Mary, bearing in her arms
the infant Jesus. At the foot of this statue there is
usually placed a vase of beautiful flowers. On one
side of the sanctuary is a small chapel with a confessional-box; on the other is the sacristy. A narrow
corridor behind the altar leads from the sacristy to
this chapel; this is the passage for the priests, and
those who resort to the confessional. There are two
confessionals in the chapel where the community assemble, another in a small chapel on one side of the
sanctuary, and another below, in a chapel on the ground
floor, besides a chapel in the infirmary in which confessions are made. Those who are too ill to leave
their beds are attended by a priest, who seats himself
beside them. At the time of a jubilee, or a religious
or annual retreat-which lasts from eight to ten days
-all these confessionals are supplied with priests.
I shall, in continuing this statement, be compelled
to recount facts and incidents as they recall themselves
to my mind, begging of the reader indulgence for whatever repetition or want of order may consequently be
observable in my narrative.
C2
57 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XII.
THE INSTITUTION AT EMMETTSBURG.
THE institution of St. Joseph is situated in a beautiful vale about a quarter of a mile from the town of
Emmettsburg. The church or chapel fronts upon the
avenue leading to the main road. It forms one side
of a square inclosing a large yard, on the other side
of which stands the infirmary. In the rear of this
yard is the building occupied by the community, and
beyond it another quadrangle, which is the academya separate edifice, connected with the "Mother House,"
as it is sometimes called, by porticoes and by a balcoiy, over which the sisters pass when going to their
duties in the academy. Those inmates who are not
employed in the latter institution are not permitted to
speak to or even look at one of the boarders, either
when crossing the porticoes attached to their house, or
while at work in their dormitories or in their refectory. This I was told on the first day after my arrival,
during my interview with the Lady Superior. I was
also directed to consider myself as henceforth entering
upon a new life, so that I must not recognize nor address as an acquaintance any individual in the academy whom I had previously known "in the world."'
After an interview with the Father Superior of the
58 
THE INSTITUTION AT EMMETTSBURG.
institution, I was shown over a part of the house occupied by the community. On one side of a corridor
paved with brick, upon the first floor, are the community-room, the novitiate, the Lady Superior's room, and
the priest's room.   On the second floor are the cells,
the retreat-room, an apartment occupied by the mistress of novices, and a number of other apartments, two
or three of which were often kept entirely closed, though
I had reason to think they were inhabited at the time.
The walls of the cells occupied by the sisters do not
reach to the ceiling.  An open space of several feet
above them not only affords ventilation, but permits
every sound to communicate from cell to cell and to
the cloisters.
The community-room is used by those sisters who
have been for eight or ten years members of the sisterhood; prior to that time they occupy the novitiate.
There are, however, members sent forth upon missions,
who, as will be explained hereafter, have never occupied the community-room, having always been in the
novitiate.  The Superior seldom leaves her own apartment.   Should she desire to see a sister, the individual is sent for by one who has charge of her room, and
who attends at her door.  No sister enters the room
of the Superior without permission.   Should a priest
enter while she is there, it would be her duty to withdraw at once, unless told to remain. The male and
female Superiors always see each other alone, except
in council-that is, in a secret meeting of the Superiors
and their officers.  When a sister commits an offense,
she is brought before the council, and all affairs of importance are settled by these inquisitors at such meet
59 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ings. I was frequently threatened with arraignment
before this tribunal, but fortunately was not brought
up for trial.
A few weeks after my admission, I observed that on
every Wednesday, between the hours of two and three
in the afternoon, the windows of the novitiate and community-room were closed, and the doors carefully locked.  All the "postulants" were then sent to the kitchen, myself among the number, there to remain at work
until the sound of the three o'clock bell. This I shall
explain hereafter. This period of the day is designated as the "silence hour;" it is a season of strict
silefle; not one word may be uttered; the eyes are
kept fixed on the work or on the floor. It was some
time before I learned the object of this rule, as indeed
of many others-not until I had made my "retreat,"
which, as I have elsewhere stated, is an interval of
several days spent in prayer, meditation, and spiritual
reading. I)During this retreat, the rules and regulations
are for the first time made known or read to the "postulants" by the mistress of novices.
Those who have recently entered the community,
and are called novices or seminary sisters, and not
vowed or professed sisters, are nevertheless bound and
compelled to keep the vows with even greater strictness than those who are professed. The vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are to be observed by
those young sisters; but a priest* may violate his
vows with impunity, and the sisters will be constrain
* I speak here of the priests of the Order of "Lazarists," or Con
gregation of Missions, which has the same founder with the Order of St.
Joseph-the priests being called the sons, and the sisters the daughters.
60 
THE INSTITUTION AT EMMETTSBURG.
ed to obey, being under the vow of obedience, which
is of superior force to the other obligations taken. He
may err, but she will do right in obeying.
A religieuse can not hold property of her own; from
the moment that she enters the community, it belongs
to the Superior. She can not, if at any time visited by
her family or friends, see them without permission; she
can not receive or send a letter; neither can she give or
receive any object, even from a member of the community, without obtaining permission.   Should one
sister desire to give another a small picture from her
prayer-book, she must first go to the mistress of novices, kneel, and ask to be allowed to make the gift.
Sometimes the request will be granted, at others the
article will be taken from her. Should the Superior or
the officers suppose that a sister prefers a particular
duty, she is assigned one that she is known to dislike.
Often is a sister required to part with some sacred ornament even, as a set of beads, or a crucifix, on the
ground that there may be a special attachment for the
object. The rule requires that particular friendships
should be guarded against. One sister is not suffered
to converse with another respecting her own private
feelings, nor to ask or answer a question, unless in the
performance of a task, and that only when absolutely
necessary. In such a case it must be done in a very
few words, and in a very low tone of voice, almost in
a whisper. A sister is not allowed to speak with or
recognize another in the corridor, or in any part of the
house; but should an officer-one having authority
under the Superior-meet a sister, the latter must answer in a low tone of voice, in as few words as possible,
61 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
and with downcast eyes. No one is permitted to look
through a window, or to gaze around her; she must
walk with a measured step, her hands clasped on her
breast, and her eyes fixed upon the ground. Sisters
are forbidden to look each other in the face; to do so is
a breach of the rules. They may not ask for any object whatever, and must receive every duty imposed
without murmuring.
When a sister is sent for by the Father Superior,
she is generally called by the sister who keeps the
door. She pauses at the threshold until told to enter,
closes the door, advances, and, kneeling, kisses the floor,
at the same time saying, "Father, your blessing."
This given, she seats herself and listens to his instructions. When told to depart, she again kneels and
kisses the floor, and asks his blessing. This degrading act is performed by every sister when entering or
leaving the novitiate, saying at the same time an Ave
J[aria-that is, repeating once the angel's salutation
to the Virgin, "Hail Mary," etc.  Those who wear
the cornet, a head-dress hereafter to be described, kiss
the crucifix which hangs at the side attached to their
beads, and say the Hail Mary.
This prayer is generally said kneeling in front of
an altar dedicated to the patron of the institution, St.
Joseph. It may be repeated, however, in any part of
the novitiate, except near the door. After this short
petition, those who leave the room, if more devout than
the rest, sometimes turn toward the statue of the saint
and make a bow. A sister, in passing the statue of
St. Vincent, founder of the order, always bows and
says a prayer invoking his intercession. Upon the
62 
THE INSTITUTION AT EMMETTSBURG.
altar in the community-room is a very large statue of
the Virgin Mary; every one bows toward it when entering or leaving the room.
Members of the community are sometimes allowed
to have a small statue of a saint in their rooms, or a
picture of some devotional subject hanging upon the
wall; but they can not keep either without vermis8ion,
and must resign the object if commanded to give it up.
This is occasionally done, doubtless as a test of obedience. Not a word is to be spoken after the "silence
bell," which rings about eight in the evening. No
sister is permitted to take a drink of water after that
time; it is a breach of the rule, and will be reported
by those who watch, who are placed around the house
as spies, to notice every movement and make known
all infiactions of order to the authorities of the institution.
When suffering from thirst, it is deemed acceptable
to God, and the suffering is offered to the Virgin Mary
as an atonement for some past sin.
63 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XIII.
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
THE daily occupations of the inmates of a "religious house" consist wholly of devotional exercises and
domestic tasks. A brief relation of the manner in
which a single day is passed will give a correct idea
of the ordinary routine of novitiate life at St. Joseph's,
and may be of interest to the reader.
At the first stroke of the bell, which rings at four
o'clock in the morning, every novice or seminary sister rises hastily from her bed, falls prostrate, and kisses the floor. At the same time, one who has been appointed utters this aspiration in a loud, shrill tone of
voice, that echoes through the dormitory, "In  the
name of God, my sisters, let us rise;" and as the
words resound through the dormitories, the response
is at once made, "May the holy name of God be blessed!" Should a sister fail to rise at the first summons of the bell, or omit saying the aspiration, she is
reported, and is required to do penance as for a great
offense. In such cases one sister reports another, and
is commended for so doing. All dress with rapidity
and in perfect silence, and make their beds; then proceed down two pair of stairs to the wash-room, where
the ablutions are performed without a word spoken.
64 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
Here some have to wait for others, and oftentimes all
this has to be done in the dark.  While in the washroom, a bell is heard in a distant part of the building:
this is called the warning-bell. After the lapse of a
few minutes another bell is rung near the door of the
room. Should a sister leave the room after the ringing of this second bell, she is marked and reported by
one who acts in the capacity of a spy.
Each proceeds next to a dimly-lighted room under
the chapel, and takes from a drawer, numbered for the
purpose, her prayer-book, which she keeps there perhaps with one or two other religious books. The
books, however, which a sister may bring with her on
entering the institution are generally taken from her
to replenish the library.   A small volume, called the
Community Book, or Formulary, is always kept in
the pocket: it contains the prayers used by the sisterhood.
When all have reached their places in the chapel, a
small clock near the door strikes the half hour, and
should a sister enter after this period, she is required
to go to the mistress of novices, kneel before her, and
kiss the floor, in addition to which she may expect
the infliction of some farther penance.
The sister who is appointed to read prayers now
says, " My sisters, let us remember that God wishes
to be adored in spirit and in truth, therefore let us
pray to him with our whole heart, and with attention:
In nomine Patris," etc. Then follows a prayer commencing thus: "My God, I believe that thou art here
present," etc.  A prayer is then said to invoke the assistance of the Holy Ghost in the performance of the
65 
MISS BUNKLEY S BOOK.
morning meditation. After another short prayer, the
first "point" of the morning meditation is read. This
"point" is a short sentence, or a few sentences, men tioning some topic of devotional contemplation, as the
circumstances of our Lord's Passion; the utterance of
which is followed by a silent meditation, lasting half an
hour. The second point of the meditation is read
when the clock has struck the next half hour. It is
observed in a kneeling posture, with the body perfectly erect and motionless, and the hands clasped in front
of the breast. The position is most painful and fatiguing, and taxes the powers of endurance to a very
trying extent. The slightest movement, while thus
engaged, is severely punished, and not unfrequently
the poor sister who is compelled to remain so long in
this attitude of rigid constraint becomes exhausted and
faints before the exercise is over. The hour completed,
a sister says, "Let us thank God for the graces we
have received during our meditation." Then follows
a prayer-" I thank thee, 0 God, for the holy light,"
etc. Other supplications are added in English and in
Latin. Soon the church-bell rings, and the Angelus
is repeated. The sister who has been appointed to
read says, "Angelus Domini nuntiavit Marie," etc.
(The angel of the Lord declared to Mary, and she conceived of the Holy Ghost.) The community respond
"Ave Maria, " etc.  Then another sentence, "Behold
the handmaid of the Lord," etc., followed by another
Ave Maria.  Then the sister says, "And the Word
was made flesh, and dwelt among us," when every sister kisses the back of the seat before her.  During'
Easter week the Regina Cacli (a hymn to the virgin
66 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
"Queen of heaven") is substituted for the "Angelus."
When the bell is heard again, a prayer is said, beginning, "Pour forth, we beseech thee, O  Lord, thy
grace into our hearts," etc.  Then the "Litany of the
holy name of Jesus" is repeated in Latin, several prayers follow, together with the Miserere, the Creed, the
Lord's Prayer, the Hiail MIary, and the De  Profundis,
which is said for the repose of the last Superior or
priest, the directress, and the confessors.
These prayers being finished, the sister says, "Let
us remember the presence of God, and the resolutions
we have taken in the meditation we have made." The
Superior's assistant then repeats one verse of the Veni
Creator Spiritus, and the community respond, the
whole terminating with a short prayer to the Holy
Spirit. Then the "offering of the chaplet" (or rosary)
is made, commencing "In nomine Patris," etc., and
proceeding thus: "My God, I offer thee the chaplet I
am going to say," at which words every sister takes
her beads in her hands, "to praise and glorify thee,
to honor thee; sixty-three years the blessed Virgin
passed on earth; to beg of thee the grace to imitate
her in the virtues which she practiced, particularly her
humility, her charity, her obedience, her hidden and
interior life; to comply with our holy rules and vows;
and for our deceased sisters for whom we have not yet
satisfied; for the wants of the Church, of the community, those of the seminary, and our own in particular; with the intention of gaining the indulgences attached to our chaplet, and for all those for whom we
are most bound to pray, as well living as dead. I be
67 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
lieve, etc.  Our Father.  Hail Mary.  Glory be to the
Father," etc.
The morning service concludes with a prayer to the
"Mother of God" in these words: " Most holy Virgin,
I believe and confess thy most holy and immaculate
conception, pure and without stain. 0 most pure Virgin, through thy virginal purity, thy immaculate conception, thy glorious quality of mother of God, obtain
for me of thy dear Son humility, charity, great purity
of heart, of body, and of mind, holy perseverance in
my cherished vocation, the gift of prayer, a holy life,
and a happy death." From this prayer it will be seen
that the sisterhood at St. Joseph's were a step in advance of the papal infallibility in the acceptance of
the dogma of the Immaculate Conception before its
promulgation at the court of Rome.   "V. Behold the
handmaid of the Lord. R. Be it done unto me according to thy word. T. O Jesus! be to me a Jesus.
R. Now and at the hour of our death.  Amen."  Then
the "mystery" for the day is said  that is, a short petition having reference to some part of our Lord's passion, as, for instance, " O Jesus, by thy prayer in the
garden of olives, grant," etc. Each sister now kisses
the seat in front of her, and the church-bell rings for
the first mass.
Two masses are said every day at -St. Joseph's, the
second of which is attended by the boarders, and those
of the community who are more privileged, being permitted to sleep until the "Angelus," or about two
hours after the first bell. The first mass being over,
the sisterhood proceed in rank, two by two, in perfect'
silence, to the novitiate and community-room. After
68 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
entering the novitiate, every sister kisses the floor.
Those wearing the cornet, however, kneel and kiss
their crucifix, bending nearly to the floor, as their
head-dress, extending to a point that projects over the
face, prevents touching the floor in this ceremony.
Then are said three times the Ave M[aria, and seven
times the Gloria Patri.
Prayers over, the sisters fall upon their knees, kiss
the floor again, and proceed in rank to the refectory.
Here all turn toward a crucifix that hangs upon the
wall, kneel, and kiss the floor; then each says the
Benedicite, kissing the floor; and seating themselves,
they eat in perfect silence their morning meal. This
consists of a morsel of bread, often without butter, and
coffee and tea served in tin cups. Coffee is the beverage of the community, and no one can take tea without obtaining permission to do so. No spoons are
used; the tea and coffee are prepared in the kitchen,
and poured into each cup as the portion allotted.
Breakfast concluded, each kisses the floor, again repeats the Benedicite, again kisses the floor, returns to
the novitiate or community-room, and taking her prayer-book, places it in the drawer appropriated to her.
Each then proceeds to her particular occupation-some
to the dormitories, cells, kitchen, refectories, sacristy,
cellars, clothes-room, wash-room, and other parts of
the building; and those who teach in the academy to
their classes when the bell rings.   Silence and "recollection"* are required to be strictly observed.
* Recollection, in French recueillement, is used in the jargon of Ro- _
manism to signify a devout collectedness of mind-abstraction from
the world.
69 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
In addition to all the religious observances and duties foregoing and hereafter to be related, there are
prayers and " aspirations" to be said at every hour of
the day, as follows: Whenever the clock strikes an
hour, a sister rises, crosses herself, and says, in a loud
tone, "Live, Jesus," and bows her head.   Every sister responds, "Forever in our hearts."  Then the mistress of novices repeats the "mysteries," of which
there is a different one for every hour of the twentyfour.  These are the mysteries of our Lord's Passion.
When this is said, the sister who is standing commences a long prayer, " O sacred heart of Jesus," etc.;
after which the mistress of novices makes an "asviration" for the month, and the sisters respond. The
sister then resumes her place. Every hour of the day
or night the sisters thus "make the hour," as it is
called, either orally or mentally, if they are awake.
The performance of floor-kissing, in token of humility, takes place, I venture to affirm, at least twenty
times in the course of the twenty-four hours. One
might suppose from this ceremony that some peculiar
and magical property resides even in the senseless
boards of this holy institution.
In addition to the religious exercises thus briefly described, from eight o'clock in the morning till nine at
night an uninterrupted " adoration" before the altar
is maintained. By this I mean that, during the time
specified, some one member of the community must be
constantly kneeling at the altar in the chapel and reciting prayers.* Each sister engaged in this office re
* This perpetual adoration, as it is called, is in behalf of the extension of the congregation of the missions.
70 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
mains for half an hour in the attitude of devotion,
when, as the clock strikes the termination of her duties, another sister who has just entered kneels behind
her and takes her place. One of the sisterhood is
appointed to see that this adoration be constantly kept
up; and she must so arrange the succession of duties,
that they shall not interfere with the other employments of those whom she calls upon to make this adoration. Severe penance is inflicted should she be remiss or unsuccessful in this charge; and it is a most
burdensome one, as I have learned by experience.
Should a sister finish her work before the eleven
o'clock bell, which rings for prayers, she goes to the
novitiate, and takes some work from a sister having
charge of the plain sewing; but this seldom occurs.
At the first sound of the bell, each must leave her employment and come to the novitiate, kiss the floor,
and take her place in rank. Should a sister fail to be
in time to take her place in the ranks which are formed to proceed to the chapel, she goes to the side of the
mistress of novices, kisses the floor, and is assigned
a penance for her offense. This penance consists of a
number of prayers.
In passing before a certain statue of St. Vincent de
Paul, founder of the order, which stands in a corner
of the corridor, the sisters invariably bow. In going
to the chapel, as well as in returning, the rank must
be preserved, and the sisters thus advance with eyes
fixed upon the floor, repeating, at the same time, a
"ten of the chaplet," consisting of ten Ave -Yarias,
one Gloria Patri, one Pater Xoster, and a prayer to
the Virgin, commencing, "Most holy Virgin, I believe
71 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
and confess thy holy and immaculate conception,"
etc.
All being assembled in the chapel, each sister kisses
the back of the seat before her. The bell rings, and
at the sound of it the Superior, or, in her absence, her
assistant, says the prayer commencing " Veni Sancte
Sviritus," etc.  Then the "examination of conscience"
is gone through, all kneeling with the hands clasped
before the heart. This ended, the sister appointed to
read prayers says, "For  our deceased sisters and
benefactors, the -De Profundis;" and that psalm is
repeated. A short prayer in Latin and one in English, addressed to the Virgin Mary, close these devotions, which are called the  dinner-prayers.  Before
leaving the chapel, the Superior, or her assistant, raps
loudly, when every sister kisses the back of the seat
before her, and takes her place in the rank. Then,
with beads in hand, and eyes cast down, saying another "ten" of the chaplet, they go to the refectory.
Should any disorder occur during this procedure, the
delinquent is reported by one of the sisters stationed
as a spy for this purpose.
In the refectory are placed five tables. One is occupied by the vow-sisters, over which the Superior
presides whenever she takes her meals in this hall.
Habitually, however, she has them served in her own
room. Another seat is taken by her assistant, another by the mistress of novices, another by an officer,
and the remaining one by a novice, which was assigned to me. Dinner consists generally of soup-which
is the chief article of food-meat, potatoes, and breadc.
Of vegetables a very few, and small variety. No fruit
72 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-MORNING.
is ever allowed to the novices, and rarely to the vowsisters, as far as I know.
Each sister has a napkin at the side of her plate,
knife, fork, and spoon (which are of iron or pewter),
and a tin cup. After the ceremony of turning to the
crucifix, clasping the hands upon the breast, and saying the Benedicite, which is repeated by the Superior
or her assistant, the meal is partaken of in silence by
those occupying the tables, while a chapter is being
read from the Lives of the Saints, or from a book entitled Christian Perfection, and another from the Roman MIartyrology. This reading is performed by one
of the sisters, who takes her own dinner when all have
withdrawn from the refectory. Another waits on the
tables, and, when all have finished, gives intimation
of the fact to the Superior or her assistant by a bow in
front of her; then, at a loud rap on the table, all rise,
clasp their hands as before, and again repeat the Benedieite. The rank is again formed, the Superior going first with her officers, followed by the vow-sisters
and novices or seminary sisters, saying, as usual, a
"ten" of the chaplet, and bowing when they pass the
statue of St.Vineent. As soon as all are seated in
the chapel, the bell rings, and each, as usual, kisses
the back of the seat before her.  Several prayers are
now said in Latin, after which the sisters retire to the
community-room and novitiate. In the latter room
several prayers are said before the altar of St. Joseph.
D
73 
4MISS BUNKLEY;S BOOK.
CHAPTER XIV.
ROUTINE OF A DAY-AFTERNOON.
THE prayers after dinner being ended, the sisters
proceed to their respective duties, at which not an unnecessary word is to be spoken. Should any one finish her task before two o'clock, she goes to the novitiate, and then may obtain the privilege of conversing
until two o'clock, but only upon permitted topics.
This is termed the period of recreation.
To prevent the interchange of thought and opinion,
very strict regulations exist on the subject of conversation. The only seasons allowed for this purpose are
these few minutes after dinner and supper, and then,
as I have said, only upon certain topics. Any observations or inquiries respecting the health and feelings
of the sisters are especially prohibited. At their occupations or duties no talking is allowed, except so
far as may be absolutely necessary for their proper
discharge. In addition to this, as will be seen, there
are seasons of positive and complete silence, during
which not a single word is permitted.
Before the two o'clock bell sounds every sister gets
her Catechism, and takes her seat in the novitiate*
* It will be observed that these statements of the occupations of the
sisters are confined to the novitiates where I had my place.  Of what
74 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-AFTERNOON.
with the work given her during the recreation-hour.
From two to three o'clock is an interval of strict silence. Not a voice is heard throughout the entire
building, and not a member of the community raises
her eyes from the floor, the Catechism, or the work
upon which they are fixed. Should any sister need
a supply of thread, or another needle, or a pair of
scissors, she is not suffered to ask another sister for
what she requires, nor to receive it if offered, nor even
to ask the mistress of novices, who is walking around
the room. She must sit through the hour without being able to perform the work assigned to her, for which
very failure she will assuredly be obliged to do penance. In such cases, a sister will often, for fear of
discovery by the mistress of novices as she passes by,
move her beads, or otherwise feign occupation, trembling all the while lest her want of employment be
observed.
During this season the mistress of novices is continually perambulating the room, peering into each
face; and should she observe the eyes of any sister
in the least uplifted, or the face raised, she will put her
hand on the head, and, with a sudden jerk, force it
downward, saying, "Keep your eyes down."   Sometimes she gives a lecture during this silence-hour, and
at the close of it a spiritual reading is performed by
one of the sisters appointed beforehand for the purpose.
This reading is selected either from  the "Life of
Christ" or from the "Conferences," of which more
hereafter. The sister appointed goes, at the close of
occurred in the community-room, among the "vow-sisters," I do not at
present speak.
75 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
the lecture, to a table in the centre of the room.   She
then receives a signal from the mistress of novices,
who nods her head, raises her hand, or raps upon the
table, and then says, "In nomine," when the sister at
once takes up the invocation, repeating it in Latin, and
then adding in English, "In the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ." Then she takes hold of the book with
both hands andcl commences to read. Should any of
these formalities be neglected, the mistress of novices
advances to the sister and reprimands her severely.
The "class sisters," or those engaged in teaching
in the academy, sometimes come in late, just after the
ringing of the bell, being detained by their duties. In
such cases the rules are more particularly enforced,
and penance is enjoined; as also in cases of walking
too fast, holding up the head, raising the eyelids, etc.
This penance consists in kissing the floor, kneeling before the altar, saying prayers, etc. The Superior and
the mistress of novices recommend that, in going to
or from their duties at the silence-hour, the sisters
should be engaged in "saying beads," or repeating the
prayers customary in the use of the chaplet.
In one instance I was late at the silence-hour, and
came in with a handkerchief in my hand, as it was a
very warm day. The mistress of novices called me
to her, rebuked me sharply, and made me kiss the
floor, saying that it looked too worldly to have a handkerchief in my hand instead of keeping it in my apron
pocket. She threatened me with severe penance if
found guilty of such an offense again.
In the commrunity-room, during silence-hour, the
sisters have spiritual readings for about a quarter of
76 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-AFTERNOON.
an hour; the remainder of the time they spend in any
kind of fancy-work that they may select. Their eyes
are also kept down, but the Lady Superior does not,
like the mistress of novices, move about to watch the
countenances of the sisters; she remains in her own
room, and reads or sews. At this hour silence is also
observed in the ira.   The sick read some religious book, and sometimes say a "ten" of the chaplet.   At the close of silence-hour the three o'clock
bell is rung, and the mistress of novices says a prayer
called the "Adoration Prayer," the sisters responding.
Those class sisters who leave the community-room
and novitiate before the close of silence-hour, at half
past two, say this prayer before the bell rings, in a
small chapel of the academy.
After the three o'clock bell, as it is called, every
sister goes at once to her usual duties.  Silence and
recollection are observed in doing this, as at other
times. The utterance of a single unnecessary word
is reported, every part of the building having its spy
for that purpose.
Before five o'clock, those who finish their tasks resort to the novitiate, and take sewing from the sister
who has charge of the work.  When the clock strikes
five, all in the room range themselves on one side in a
row, and one takes a chair apart from the rest to "say
beads."  Six "tens" of the chaplet are then said, all
responding.   Then are repeated the Lord's Prayer,
the Creed, the Litany of the Virgin 3lary; and about
the close of the prayers the bell rings for the evening
meditation. After assembling as usual in the novitiate and community-room, the rank is formed, and the
77
Lt6 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
sisterhood proceed to the chapel, where half an hour
is spent in meditation and prayer. After prayers the
bell rings, and the sisters walk in order to the refectory for supper.
Supper consists of a piece of bread, with sometimes
a small piece of butter, and sometimes molasses. After this meal a "ten" of the chaplet is said in the chapel. If it be the evening before holy communion, at
least as often as three times a week, the sisters must
obtain permission to receive the sacrament. The moment before leaving the chapel, the vow-sisters kneel
before the Lady Superior or her assistant, and say,
"Please, mother," or "sister," if it be her assistant,
"let me go to holy communion," and then they kiss
their crucifix. The Lady Superior sits near the door
behind the sisters, and in this supplication they turn
their backs to the altar. As the vow-sisters are rising
from their knees and forming the rank, the novices,
who sit between them and the altar, turn toward them,
kneel, kiss the floor, and say, "Please, sisters, let me
go to holy communion."   On the day before communion, at silence-hour, the novices have also to obtain
permission from the mistress of novices in the same
manner, but without speaking. Then is said the usual
prayer in the novitiate and community-room, after
whichi all retire to their duties. A number of the sisters go to the refectories, where the tables are to be
prepared for the morning meal. Should the work be
finished before the bell for prayers, all go to the novitiate and community-room.   This is also called the
hour of "recreation," when such of the sisters are allowed, as after dinner, to converse upon permitted top
78 
ROUTINE OF A DAY-AFTERNOON.
ics. At eight the silence-bell is rung.  The meditation
for the following morning is read in advance by a sister,
to occupy their wakeful moments during the night.
I should say that, after supper, each of the sisters
is required to take her knitting; no one sits idle for a
moment, even during the so-called "recreation."  After the reading of this meditation, the mistress of novices calls upon some sister to offer remarks upon the
subject of the meditation. The sister called upon
usually expresses her thoughts in a few sentences;
sometimes several are called upon during the evening.
At the ringing of the second bell, at eight and a half
o'clock, the sisters form rank and proceed to the chapel, where night-prayers are said till about nine o'clock.
These prayers are similar in a great degree to those of
the morning.
Before the close of prayers, every light is extinguished in the chandelier which hangs from the centre of the chapel, and only one is left-that burns
night and day before the tabernacle in the sanctuary.
The sisters leave the chapel in the usual order, and
retire to their cells. From nine o'clock till breakfast
is over on the following morning, absolute silence is
to be maintained. During this time it is not allowed
to take a drink of water. No sister is permitted to
see another after she goes to her cell; it would be a
breach of the rule for one sister to see the head of another uncovered.   While undressing for the night,
"'aspirations" are said by many, the practice having
been recommended by the Superior and the mistress
of novices.
If this narrative of a day's employment at St. Jo
79 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
seph's-embracing only the more "spiritual" and den
votional occupations of the sisters-should appear ins
terminably tedious to the reader at a single perusal, I
beg him to estimate the weariness of body and soul
that must be endured by the poor sufferers of this infliction, repeated from day to day, from week to week,
with scarcely a variation in the monotony of its routine.
s0 
"DUTIES" OF THE SISTERS.
CHAPTER XV.
" DUTIES" OF THE SISTERS.
SUCH is the procedure of religious observances for
a single day at St. Joseph's. Some portions of it are
of course subject to deviation for the several feasts,
Sundays, fast-days, and other special occasions. From
this statement the reader may have obtained a faint
conception of the incessant toils and fatigues thus imposed. But he must take into consideration, besides
these "spiritual" exercises, those manual and menial
employments in which the members of the community
are daily engaged, and which are technically called their
"duties."  These consist chiefly of those labors that
are generally performed by servants in a private family, but which, in so large an establishment, must necessarily be far more numerous and burdensome.
An "officer," as she is designated, superintends each
separate department of the domestic economy, and exercises control over those employed in her service, by
whom she must be implicitly obeyed, without murmur
or             hesitation.   The kitchen, laundry, infirmary, refectory, meat-house, clothes-room, dormitories, scullery, etc., etc., have each its overseer, and those appointed t        o         perform the   appropriate duties.  But besides
these there are the teachers in the academy; the "an                         D2
81 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
gels," as they are styled, who watch over the boarders,
and sleep in their dormitories; and the sacristan, who
has charge of the sacristy, church, chapels, and confessionals. There is also a sister to wait on the Superior, and who is, in fact, her servant; one to keep
the priest's room in order; anid another-a young and
handsome sister being always selected for this dutyto carry his meals to him. Each has her allotted task,
which must be performed faithfully and strictly, and
she must be ready at a moment's warning to assume
a new duty, or leave her work when ordered. All the
work of the academy and institution is performed by
the members of the community, and between these occupations and those exercises already described, not a
minute is lost, from four o'clock in the morning till
nine at night.
Some estimate of the amount of individual labor accomplished by the sisterhood may be drawn from a
relation of my own experience. For the first three
weeks after entering the institution, I was employed in
the refectory, where, commencing after breakfast, the
following is an account of a day's duties: Brought in
two tubs of water; washed the cups, bowls, knives, and
forks; cleared off five long tables, and carried the
plates, about one hundred in number, to the kitchen
to be washed; swept, and sometimes scoured and
scrubbed the floor of the refectory; brought back the
plates, and arranged the tables for dinner; cleaned the
knives and forks; kept up a fire in the stove, etc.
After dinner, performed the same work, and prepared
the tables for supper.   After supper, washed and
cleaned up) every thing again, and prepared for break
82 
" DUTIES" OF THE SISTERS.
fast. At the end of three weeks I was transferred to
the academy, where I taught music and French, and
worked il the refectory at night. Mly occupations then
were varied.   Sometimes I cooked and washed, at
other times I was employed in the infirmary, waiting
on the sick and making their beds, administering their
medicines, and assisting in cupping, blistering, and
other hospital duties.
It must be borne in mind that, besides the faithful
execution of these requirements, the sisters are compelled to be punctual at all the devotional exercises
already described.
The observance of these duties and devotions comprehends an aggregate of endurance and suffering such
as will speedily exhaust the strength and destroy the
tone of the most sturdy constitution. Numbers every
day are so utterly overcome, that when the hour of
repose arrives, it is with difficulty that they reach their
cells ere they fall fainting to the floor. What a mockery of religion, as well as of mere humanity, to summon so often for acts of worship these poor creatures,
whose limbs are writhing with pain, and whose frames
are worn out with excess of weariness, especially when
so many of those exercises are performed in postures
more fatiguing than even the servile duties by which
they have been preceded!  IHiow can the mind  and
heart be profitably engaged in circumstances such as
these?
To illustrate the facts here stated, I may allude to
the case of a novice who fled from the institution, notwithstanding the MlIother Superior's assertion that all
are at liberty to depart at will, and took refuge with a
83: 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
Presbyterian clergyman in Emmettsburg. She had
not abjured the Catholic faith, but made her escape on
account of her inability to sustain the grievous burden
of labor imposed upon her. " She had supposed," she
said, "that the institution was a centre of holy iifluences, and that nowhere else could she serve her
Maker with such entire self-consecration, but she found
nothing like religion there." So deep was her disgust
with her experience of the life in the sisterhood, that
she declared, " If to continue a' Sister of Charity'
would certainly take her to heaven, she would not consent to remain." It must have been the recollection
of great suffering that elicited such language. The
case of this novice will be referred to again, when I
come to speak of the Mother Superior's letter.
84 
THE "  CONFERENCE. "7
CHAPTER XVI.
THE "  CONFERENCE."
THE order of observances here described is varied
on Wednesday by a convocation of the sisters called
the "Conference," or "Chapter."  As already mentioned, postulants are not permitted on that day to remain in the novitiate during the silence-hour, which is
from two to three o'clock in the afternoon. They are
then sent to the kitchen or elsewhere, to be out of the
way, while the sisters assemble in the novitiate and
community-room.
It was after my "retreat" that I learned the nature
of the performances on this occasion. The room having been darkened by closing the window-shutters
tightly, so that the only light admitted came through
the upper part of the Gothic arches of the windows,
the sisters then assembled, and took their places arranged round the room, the mistress of novices being
seated at a table at one end near the door. At first,
all kneel, and say certain prayers, during which the
"class sisters," or teachers in the academy-who,
upon hearing the bell, repair thither from their duties
-noiselessly enter, and kneel near the door until the
prayers are ended. Every sister not so engaged must
be in the room before the two o'clock bell rings. Af
85 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ter prayers, all seat themselves and take their work,
except four or five of the "cornet sisters," or sisters
of the "holy habit," nearest to the altar of St. Joseph,
which is at one end of the room. These continue
kneeling toward the altar, each behind the other in a
row, and in front of her own seat. The first sister in
this row, after kissing her crucifix and crossing herself, places the palms of her hands together in front of
her breast, and then "makes her accusation," which
she does in the following form:
"M ly God, I most humbly ask thy pardon, and to
you, my sister, I accuse myself of my faults. I accuse myself of having walked too heavily, or of making too much noise in shutting the doors; of giving
my eyes too much liberty; of not accepting advice in
a spirit of humility; of not being' recollected,'" etc.,
etc. After specifying some such offenses, the accusation concludes thus: "For these faults, and many others of which I am guilty, I most humbly ask pardon
of God, and beg you, my sister, that you will please
to give me penance."   Sometimes it is added, "I ask
for spiritual charity in the next conference." Having
said thus, the sister, before leaving the novitiate, will
take an opportunity to whisper in the ear of a sister
whom she may select, "I ask of yont spiritual charity
in the next conference."
The first sister, having finished her accusation, takes
her seat, and the one immediately behind her commences. This continues until all the five have performed this duty. Just before the last one has coneluded, the next four or five kneel in the same manher, each, when her accusation is ended, resuming her
86 
THE " CONFERENCE."
seat and commencing her work. This proceeding lasts
till all have knelt and accused themselves in turn.
Any sister who has accused herself and has asked for
"spiritual charity" in the previous chapter, will say
after her accusation, "I asked for spiritual charity in
the last conference." Thereupon at once the sister
whom  she then notified will kneel and say, "In a
spirit of humility and charity I accuse my sister of
speaking in time of silence," or any other fault she
may remember or please to imagine. She ends with
these words: "I know myself to be guilty of these
faults and many others, for which I most humbly ask
pardon of God," and then resumes her seat. Penances,
as punishments, are then inflicted by the mistress of
novices.
Frequently it will happen that in making these accusations the sisters will speak in too low a tone. The
mistress of novices will then give three loud raps, and
say, "What sister is that speaking?"  To which the
sister must reply, giving her name. She is then
awarded some penance, such as kissing the floor two
or three times, as a punishment, and is commanded to
speak louder. The sisters will often tremble with agitation during this ceremonial. The conscience is at
work; and fears lest they should commit some error
in the repetition of the formula, for which they would
inevitably be punished, keep them in constant anxiety and alarm; more especially is this the case with
those young novices who have heard the expressions
but a few times, and are allowed no other way of learning them than by hearing the words repeated on these
occasions.
87 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
The mistress of novices, before the commencement
of this cruel process, opens a little black book, and
reads a collection of reports made to her by her spies,
accusing such of the sisters as they may choose to impugn of whatever transgressions they are pleased to
ascribe to them; and the poor novices, who, perhaps,
have never dreamed of the offenses which they thus
find alleged against them, are not allowed to defend
themselves, or make a word of reply, but must receive,
silently and submissively, whatever reproof or punishment may be imposed. The opening of this little
book spreads alarm and terror throughout the novitiate.
After the accusations, a small book is taken from
a closet, which is read during the remainder of the silence-hour. This book contains the rules of the house.
At three o'clock the great bell rings rapidly and loud,
in remembrance of our Lord, who expired at that hour
upon the cross, and every sister instantly falls upon
her knees, each holding in her hland her crucifix, gazing intently upon it, and kissing it reverently and passionately; the "adoration" prayer is then said, and
this closes the chapter. Conferences are held in the
community-room also, but I do not know the forms
used there, nor am I certain that the same day is selected for the purpose.
88 
CONSUMPTION AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
CHAPTER XVII.
CONSUMPTION AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
IT can scarcely be matter of surprise that, with so
much labor and so little rest, the most robust health,
subjected to the life of a convent, should be shattered,
and the strongest constitution undermined; still less
will it be wondered at that young girls of weak and
delicate frames should speedily prove martyrs to a system so exacting.  Even at night, when the wearied
sister, on the hard couch of her narrow cell, woos
the "sweet restorer, balmy sleep," to recruit her energies for another day of toil, it is often impossible to
obtain repose.  Many a time have I been awakened
in the depth of night by shrieks and screams that
made my very blood run cold.  Often have I heard
groans and exclamations of distress, and then, in sweet
and tremulous tones, the warbling of some poor, heartbroken sister, who, perhaps, in dreams revisited the
home of her childhood, but for whom the interests of
real life were buried in darkness forever. Again would
the silence be disturbed by the slow and measured
footfall of a priest, summoned, perhaps, to administer
the holy viaticum to some dying sister in the infirmalTy.
One night I was unusually alarmed by a loud and
89
lk-L 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
prolonged shriek, proceeding from a neighboring part
of the dormitory, and a heavy fall as of a body striking the ground. Immediately after I heard a person
running past my cell toward the passage beyond. The
sounds firightened me so much that I was unable to
close my eyes during the remainder of the night.  The
following evening, during "recreation," a young sister
who was seated next to me asked me if she could
speak without being reported. I looked at her with
surprise; but, seeing that she was pale and agitated,
I told her, although against the rules, that she might
speak without reserve, and tell me the cause of her
distress, promising that I would not divulge it, but
would serve her if in my power. She then informed
me that she had been very much alarmed the night
before, and asked if I had heard a strange noise and
a loud shriek. Upon my assent, she stated that about
midnight she had been awakened by a heavy step
around the bed, and was so frightened that she could
scarcely breathe. As soon as the sound had ceased,
she felt something heavy at the foot of her bed, when
she uttered a scream, and the person, or fiend, for she
knew not which, rolled heavily to the floor, and, uttering a wild, demoniacal yell, fled rapidly down the cloister.  So much had these occurrences terrified her, that
she dreaded retiring to her cell, and was in a constant
state of agitation and fear.
The very next night I heard a shriek, if possible,
louder than the previous one.  The following day I
learned from a young sister that some one, at midnight,
had walked round her bed several times, after whicl
she had felt a pair of hands seize her by the throat,
90
4' 
CONSUMPTION AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
nearly stifling her for a moment, whereupon she uttered the scream I had heard.
3Iany an hour have I remained awake, revolving in
my mind occurrences like these, for which I vainly endeavored to account. But more distressing than these
frightful sounds was one far more common: the painful cough of the consumptive, which from more than
one cell would be heard, announcing the presence of
that fearful disease, elsewhere so dreaded, but here invited, and rendered almost inevitable by the course of
life prescribed. I was told, and it was generally taught,
that consz4nptmion is a part of t/e vocation.   Sometimes I have found it out of the question to obtain an
hour's repose, in consequence of the continual cough
of some poor sister, who, wearied with the arduous
duties imposed upon her during the day, would reach
her cell with the help of others, in a few days more to
be ordered to the infirmary, linger a little longer, receive the last sacraments, then welcome death as a release from her sufferings, and be carried to the graveyard near at hland.
One evening, while ascending the steps to my cell,
I noticed a sister leaning against the wall as if for support, and breathing heavily. I imagined her unable to
reach her cell, but could not speak, as it was silencehour. Unwilling to pass her without notice, I offered
my arm, which she accepted, and I assisted her to her
cell. The following day she was sent to the infirmary,
and soon after died.
Numbers die at the institution every year.   I know
of fourteen who died during the ten months of my stay
in the community, and I saw at least twenty recent
91
.~
.1 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
graves before I left. They are buried in regular rows.
There are four infirmaries, in one of which there are
several insane sisters. There is one for the old and
infirm, who are totally unable to go about the institution, and who sometimes, though with great difficulty,
reach the choir, which is very near, where they perform their devotions. The large infirmary connected
with the house, though a separate building, is filled
with the sick and the dying. It is divided into two
departments: the lower, on the first floor, being occupied by the young sisters or novices; the upper, in
the second story, by the vow or professed sisters. In
this department there is a small chapel, where confessions are made by those who are unable to go to church
or to any of the confessionals.
The lower infirmary is a large room, on each side
of which is a row of small curtained bedsteads, about
seven in number. At the end of a passage leading
past the entrance to this room, there is a very small
passage at right angles, connecting with a room where
those who die in this infirmary are laid out. At the
other end of the infirmary is a passage, on one side
of which there are two doors, one leading to the refectory, and the other to the kitchen.  On the opposite
side is a store-room, where provisions are kept in small
quantities for those who occupy the infirmary. In
this passage a flight of stairs leads to the upper infirmary. At the top of these stairs, on the right, there
is a sitting or work room for those sisters who, though
ill, are permitted to walk about the upper infirmarythat is, to go from their apartments to the chapel,
work-room, and medicine-room. Many of the profess
92 
CONSUMPTION AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
ed sisters are allowed to take their meals in the infirmary on account of loss of appetite and impaired
health, caused by the want of better fare.
The rules of the infirmary are framed and hung up
in the work-room. Whoever transgresses these rules
is reported by the "infirmarian," her assistant, and
others. These rules are substantially as follows:
io sister is allowed to enter the infirmary without
permission from the Superior, or other officer of the
community. When entered, she must at once see the
infirmarian, and act according to her directions.
She must ask for nothing, but receive whatever is
given her without a murmur.
She must observe strictly the community rulesthat is, must repeat her prayers, keep silence, and refrain from speaking to any other sick sister without
permission.
When sent to bed, she is not to rise without permission, nor leave the infirmary unless directed to do
so.
Those sisters who are allowed to take their meals
in the infirmary-refectory are not permitted, when
passing through the building, to speak to a sister who
is sick, but must walk with eyes cast down, and hands
folded across their breasts.
93 
4MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST INDICATIONS OF DISFAVOR.
I HAD been in the community about two months
when a letter from my family was received by the Superior. It was handed or sent by her to the mistress
of novices for perusal in the novitiate. When the mistress of novices had finished reading the letter, she
called me to her. I instantly obeyed, fell on my knees
before her, and kissed the floor. She then told me
that she had a letter for me from my family, and would
not give it to me, but would read a few sentences of
it aloud.   She did so, and I was unable to control my
emotion, or to restrain the tears that rushed to my
eyes. Seeing me so agitated, she became very angry
-for it is esteemed a step toward perfection to suppress all demonstration of feeling-andcl seizing me by
the shoulders while I was kneeling before her, she
threw me violently backward. M/iy head striking the
floor, I became insensible, and was taken, as I afterward learned, to the infirmary, where I was reported by the mistress of novices as detained by "ill
health."
After leaving the infirmary, I was looked upon with
an inquiring glance by many, who would fain have
asked me respecting my health, but neither they nor I
94 
FIRST INDICATIONS OF DISFAVOR.
durst utter a word on the subject. It is positively forbidden to say any thing relative to one's feelings, or
to make inquiries about any one who has been sent to
the infirmary. Should any thing occur there, it is not
to be spoken of in the novitiate or community-room;
nor is any thing that happens in those rooms to be
repeated in the infirmary.
Sometimes we would miss a sister for several days
together; but we did not know where she was, and
were not permitted to ask after her. It is forbidden to
notice when any person comes or goes, or to inquire
why such a sister is removed from one place to another; and before we would have farther tidings, she
might be dying or dead in the infirmary without our
knowledge.
But it was not long before other oceurrenees made
me conscious of the fact that I had incurred the displeasure of my superiors, and that I must expect the
strictest surveillance and punishment for the least
omission of duty or infraction of the rules. Unintentional errors, such as in others would be overlooked,
were sure to be visited upon me; and every word I
uttered was duly reported by spies set to watch my
conduct. One evening, exhausted by the labor undergone during the day, as I was carrying a tub of water
from the kitchen to the refectory, I remarked to a sister, "II How very hard we have to work " This was,
of course, reported to the Superior. While at breakfast on the following morning, I was sent for to come
to her room.  I went, and found her much displeased.
She threatened me with condign punishment in case
another word of complaint were spoken relative to the
95 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
labor imposed.   She said that "if I should ever again
complain, I would get myself into trouble." I left her
room with the determination to be silent in future. At
this period I did not know the rules, having not yet
made my retreat. I was often rebuked, and more
than once threatened with arraignment before the
"council" by the sister who had charge of the refectory.
One night, having been sent by the mistress of
novices to the infirmary on account of some indisposition during the day, I asked permission of the "infirmarian" to retire before night-prayers, being unfit
for the fatigue of kneeling during such a length of time.
She answered, "No;  I had come thither to suffer
and do penance," and might return to the infirmary
after prayers. I did so, but was told that I must rise
from my bed at the ringing of the first bell-at four
in the morning-and must attend morning-prayers and
the first mass. This infirmarian was ere long, however, succeeded by a new one, to the great satisfaction
of the young novices, as she did not enforce the rules
with the strictness of her predecessor.
One evening, about this time, after duties, having
been sent to the infirmary to watch by the bedside
of a sister who was very ill, I noticed in a bed near by
a young sister apparently dying of consumption. She
was beautiful; her large dark eyes shone with unearthly brilliancy; her face was very pale, save one
bright spot on each cheek, that spoke plainly of her
approaching doom. Once or twice I noticed that she
sighed heavily; and, watching her more closely, I discovered the tears trickling down her cheeks.  My
96 
FIRST INDICATIONS OF DISFAVOR.
sympathy was roused, and, crossing the room to her
bedside, I inquired how long she had been in the infirmary, and whether she were improving. She had
been there, she said, all winter, and was no better.
Raising her hand, which was covered with a handkerchief, she told me that she was in great suffering. I
saw that the hand had been opened, as by a surgical
operation. She did not know why it had been done,
and felt sure that she would lose it. A few days later
she was sent away from the institution, nor did I learn
for some months after where she was. I shall have
occasion to speak again of this sister in another place.
The Lady Superior, mistress of novices, and infirmarian had, particularly the two latter, since the reception of the letter from my home, manifested toward
me a severity of character which alarmed me. The
Lady Superior, even in her rebukes, would usually
close by some mild and persuasive remark, which went
far to alleviate my wounded pride and lacerated feelings. I had no reason to believe that she had any
hostile feeling toward me, except on account of my evident and still strong attachment to my family.
The treatment I received, however, produced a great
change in my outward conduct. Fear, a sense of duty,
and the cherished hope of obtaining permission to depart, all combined to induce me, at least apparently,
to submit with perfect patience and resignation to the
will and wishes of my superiors; and although my
heart ached for that lovely and suffering sister, and
my curiosity was aroused to the utmost to know more
of her, yet I dared not prolong the interview at this
time for fear of the infirmarian.
E
97 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ILLUSION AND THE REALITY.
HAVING made my retreat as a postulant, when, for
the first time, I learned and fully comprehended the
nature of the sacrifice demanded of me, I saw that
the chief requirement was an abject submission to the
will and commands of the superiors in every res8ect;
that their dictates must be regarded with the same
reverence as- the voice of God himself; that the highest holiness was made to consist in an entire surrender to their control-physically, spiritually, and morally, as to the Almighty; that this obedience required
a renunciation of father, mother, sister, and brother; in
whose stead the Father and Mother Superiors of the
institution, the members of the community, and the
priest, must thenceforth be regarded with filial and
sisterly devotion; that every affection of the heart
must be stifled, every earthly tie broken, and an eternal farewell bidden to home, friends, and country.
As these considerations crowded upon my mind, I
became terrified at the prospect.   I determined to
write-home and declare that my resolution was altered, and that I no longer desired to follow the life of a
Sister of Charity.
It did not occur to meefor a moment that any obsta
98 
THE ILLUSION AND THE REALITY.
cle would be interposed to prevent my withdrawal from
the community.   I had been told that this was not a
"close convent;" and even from such it ispublicly declared that a novice is at liberty to depart at any time
before assuming the black veil. I was still attached
to the Roman Catholic faith, but I found it impossible
to reconcile myself to the idea of subjecting my will
and affections to the slavery enforced by the vows of
the society.  I was self-convinced that my "vocation"
for such a life was a figment of the imagination, and
that my spiritual welfare would not be promoted by a
foreed obedience to rules abhorrent to my nature.
But, alas! I was soon made to feel that already the
chains of a cruel servitude had bound me hand and
foot; that already I was under the full control of a
heartless organization, whose only motives of action
were its own aggrandizement, and a base subserviency
to the ambition of an unscrupulous priesthood.
In accordance with the resolution thus formed, a
few days before the time appointed for my reception
into the sisterhood, I wrote to my father announcing
my intention to withdraw from the institution and return home. This letter, as is customary, was read by
the mistress of novices, and afterward submitted to the
Mother Superior. I was soon summoned to her presence, where, on my knees, I was asked, sternly, why I
had perpetrated such a piece of folly. I told her, in
brief and respectful terms, of the change in my views,
and of my desire to return home.
No sympathizing reply, nor even a mild dissuasion,
followed this statement; but, to my astonishment, the
Mother Superior, tearing the letter to pieces and throw:  e        
99 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ing the fragments into a stove near by, harshly answered that, having renounced my own will in this
matter, I must persevere to the end for the good of
my soul, and God would bless my determination. No
remonstrance onl my part was listened to, but I was
compelled to write another letter, at her dictation, declaring my happiness in my present condition, and my
entire contentment with it, and adding that I would
accordingly remain and make my vows at the institution. I was completely cowed, and obeyed in fear and
trembling, with the certainty that even if I should then
resist, I should be finally constrained by punishment
to obey. How trying the alternative! What more
painful and revolting to the feelings of a daughter than
thus to be compelled to write a lie to her parent-to
persuade the loved ones at home that she was happy
and contented, when her heart was torn with anguish,
and when the first symptoms of despair, like a gathering cloud, shut out those bright anticipations she had
been forming of a speedy reunion with the family circle. I retired fiom the interview with sensations that
no language can express, and such as I trust never to
experience again.   That night was spent in silent
tears and bitter thoughts.
After this rebuff, a settled feeling of despondency
took possession of my mind, though I was constrained, through fear of punishment, to avoid a betrayal of
my sentiments.  Mly highly-wrought expectations had
vanished; my prospects of happiness were scattered
to the winds.   At this time, too, my faith in popery
received a shock; my eyes were partially opened to
the rashness of forsaking the church of my fathers,
-~s  *      
100 
THE ILLUSION AND THE REALITY.
and attaching myself to a system whose crooked policy was now in process of development before me.  An
honest self-examination, serious reflection, and the influence of events that followed this first display of intrigue and deception, completely uprooted every vestige of my previous preferences, and enabled me both
to appreciate my own folly and to perceive the distorted lineaments concealed under the attractive mask that
had allured me.   If I have suffered-and God only
knows how poignantly-from the injustice and malevolence of my oppressors, still am I deeply grateful that
these sorrows should have been the means of awakening me to a sense of my error, and of disclosing the
truth in its purity to my perception.
All this, however, did not take place at once; and
though, as I have said, my enthusiastic anticipations
disappeared, and a thick cloud overspread my spirit,
there came as yet no thought of rebellion against the
control of my superiors.   I resolved to perform the
duties allotted me, and submit patiently to the consequences of my own rashness, until, as I still vainly
hoped, I should be permitted to depart in peace. Not
the remotest idea of escape was then cherished, and it
was not till circumstances occurred, the recollection of
which even now causes an involuntary shudder, that I
was rendered desperate, and determined to brave every consequence, and even death itself, sooner than remain incarcerated in a prison such as this.
101 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XX.
POOR JULIA.
I HAVE said that disease and death are busy actors
among the inmates of St. Joseph's. Consumption, that
dread yet insidious foe of the young and innocent,
stealing, like the tiger of the jungles, with noiseless
step and remorseless purpose on its unsuspecting victim, and fastening its deadly grasp ere the approach
be suspected, makes sad ravages here. Worn out
with incessant toil, and with an unremitting observance of the oppressive routine of useless forms; sub
ject, also, to frequent exposures to changes of temperature, not only in passing over the porches to and from
the academy, but also from a frequent lack of clothing,
and sleeping in cold cells without sufficient covering, to
say nothing of the effects of sudden prostration of the
body upon the cold floor at four o'clock every morning,
it is no wonder that the sisters, and especially those
of them who are most conscientious in the discharge
of their laborious duties, should often fall a prey to
this fell destroyer.
But a short time after my admission to the sisterhood, I entered the novitiate one morning at an earlier
hour than usual, and saw a sister sitting before a table with her head resting upon her hands, and violently
102 
POOR JULIA.
weeping. No one being present, I went up to her, and
kneeling at her side, asked affectionately why she wept
so bitterly. She answered that the cause of her sorrow could not be revealed; that she would fain speak
to me without reserve, but could not do so; and added, "Sister, I was for many years a boarder here, and
received my education from the sisterhood; but I did
not dream of what a religious life is. I can not tell
you how I have been deceived. I do not care to live."
Hearing steps in the adjoining corridor, we separated
for fear of being observed, and at her request I left by
a side door.
This young lady was the daughter of a wealthy
Southerner, who had placed her at an early age in the
academy, where she had remained several years, acquiring all those accomplishments that were suited to
fit her for the sphere of society in which she was expecting to move. Having completed her studies, and
spent a couple of years at home, she urged her father
to permit her to revisit with him the peaceful vale
where she had passed so many happy days of her
childhood. As he intended to take her younger sisters
to the same institution for their education, he consented that this eldest daughter should accompany them,
and make a short stay at the institution. Her purpose in this request was to enter the sisterhood, should
opportunity present itself; but this design was, of
course, concealed from her father, who would have opposed it at once.  Upon arriving at St. Joseph's, the
daughter spent much time in the company of those
who, no doubt, had persuaded her to embrace this
resolution, and on the eve of the father's departure it
103 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
was for the first time made known to him. Upon
hearing of her determination, he became greatly displeased, and demanded that she should be called to
speak with him, but he was told that he could not see
her, as she had gone over to the house occupied by the
sisterhood. There her beautiful long hair was severed
from her head, and sent to her father as a parting gift,
and the white cap of the postulant was put on. A
few weeks elapsed; her health began to fail, and soon
after becoming a novice she was  so unwell as frequently to be sent to the infirmary. Often, when coming with her from our duties in the academy, have I
seen her cling to the railing of the porches for support,
while the tears were streaming from her eyes.
Though unable at first to draw firom her the cause
of her distress, at length, one evening, as I urged her
to confide in me, she took from her pocket a tiny stocking, and said, with much emotion, "This is the only
relic I hlave of my little baby brother." She had
brought him with her to the institution, as she could
not bear the thought of parting with him at home.
"It was a bitter trial, sister," she continued, "when
my mother died, a year before I entered the community; but it is harder yet for me to give up all hope of
ever seeing my little brother again."
A few days after this conversation I missed her
from the novitiate, and learned that she had been sent
to the infirmary. I asked permission of the mistress
of novices to visit her, scarcely expecting, however,
that I should be allowed to do so. To my surprise,
leave was granted for a short interview. I found the
sister in bed, supported by pillows, her face flushed
104 
POOR JULIA.
with fever, and evidently in deep distress. No one
being near us at the moment, I took her slender hand,
thin almost to transparency, and asked if she were
better.  "No, my dear sister," she replied; "I am
worse; I am dying;" and she inquired whether I too
were sick and had come for medicine.   "Do not take
a cold, sister, for it is always,fata heree."
I could remain but a short time, and when I left,
promised to seek a speedy opportunity of visiting her
again. A week or two passed, during which I made
many inquiries concerning her health, but could learn
nothing.  When again allowed to see her, I was alarmed at the change a few days had wrought. She was
then but the shadow of her former self, and could
scarcely speak above a whisper. Since her first illness she had refused to take any nourishment, or any
thing that was thought calculated to afford relief.
She would wipe the blood from her lips, and, smiling
sadly, say to me, "I shall soon be gone, and my poor
father will not know of my death."
One evening, as I was passing through the infirmary, carrying a message firom the mistress of novices,
she called me, and though it was a breach of the rules,
I went to her bedside. She requested me to hand
her her knitting. I refused to do so, as she was scarcely able, from extreme debility, to raise her hands. Said
she, "Sister, did I say my work? mine?   Tfhar is
mine?" Then making an effort to rise from her bed,
she fell back fainting on her pillow. When consciousness returned, she burst into a flood of tears, crying,
"Mly poor father! my mother!"
She was ill two months, during which time she did
E 2
105 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
not rise from her bed. She would often say to the
infirmarian, "Sister, what is the matter with me?
Please to tell me." The evening of her death she had
several convulsions, and after recovering, asked where
she had been. She then said to one of the officers at
her bedside that she had seen her mother, who had
come for her, and she could stay no longer. The officer, supposing that she alluded to the Mother Superior, was about to send in haste for her. " No," exclaimed the poor sister, "I mean my own dear mother." The words had scarcely passed her lips when
she expired, without having received the last sacrament or made her vows.
She was laid out in her novice's dress; her beads
and crucifix were laid upon her breast. As usual, a
sister watched by the corpse until morning, when mass
was said for the repose of her soul. She was placed
in a plain wooden coffin, of dark color, and beautiful
indeed was this unfortunate girl in death. A white
rose had been laid upon her bosom by some member
of the community, perhaps by the sister whom I overheard making the following remark, which showed that
she at least was not utterly devoid of feeling: "Yes,"
she murmured, gazing upon the fair remains, "she
came to us a bud; now she has gone, a rose in perfect
bloom."
Her coffin we covered with a black pall and bore to
the chapel, where, as I have said, mass was sung for
her repose. Beside the corpse six lighted candles were
placed. The altar and paintings were shrouded in
mourning.   After mass, while the chapel bell was"
tolling, six novices carried her to the grave-yard near
106 
POOR JULIA.
by, and the community followed two by two in the
usual manner. Thus the once admired, accomplished,
and beloved Julia was committed to her final rest.
During her illness, her sisters, who were in the academy, were permitted to see her but once, a few moments before her death, when she asked to see them;
nor were they permitted even to write to their father
of her illness. He knew nothing of it until subsequent to her decease, but not long after he sent for his
two daughters from the academy. He was a Roman
Catholic.
107 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXI.
SISTER  SERAPHIA.
As I have stated, the novices at St. Joseph's have
occasion frequently to remain at night with those who
are ill. It is also their duty to carry the coffin of the
dead, and watch through the night at its side. This
they sometimes do quite alone in the chapel.
The former of these offices I have many a time performed, among the sick and dying in the infirmary.
I was for some time an assistant in that department
of the institution, having been put on duty after a very
severe illness, and as soon as I was sufficiently strong
to walk from one bed to another.
One night, during that illness, hearing a strange
noise in a neighboring passage, I arose, and went to
the door of the infirmary. It was dark. I walked on
a few steps, when I fainted, and fell to the floor. I
know not how long I remained unconscious. Upon
my recovery, it was some time before I could find the
door, and when I did so, I ascertained that the lamp,
which burns through the night, hanging from the centre of the room, had gone out. It was with difficulty_
that I reached my bed, which I accomplished by feeling on the floor for a register near it. I remained ill
108 
SISTER SERAPHIA.
for many days, and much of the time unconscious of
all that passed around me.
On a bed opposite to mine lay a young sister, who
had the consumption, and was pronounced incurable.
The second winter after her admission she had taken
a severe cold, which received no attention. At length
she was sent to the infirmary, but there found no relief.
When, after my recovery, I was placed on duty in
the infirmary, I took particular care of this sister. A
short time before her death, she said to me, as I was
arranging her pillows, "Sister, you have been so very
kind to me, that I wish to see you after I die; and if
Almighty God will permit, I shall come back to you,
and tell you of the unknown world." I told her that
I hoped she might do so. I prepared her to receive
the last sacrament, arranging the table, and placing
upon it the candles and crucifix. She received the
extreme unction, made her vows, and expired.
The day subsequent to Sister Seraphia's death, I received a message from the mistress of novices directing me to keep watch alone in a small chapel on one
side of the sanctuary in the church. Entering that
chapel, I was startled at the sight of a coffin covered
with a black pall. At once I imagined that it was
the corpse of the young lady who had died on the preceding day. I seated myself by the coffin, and in perfect silence began my lonely vigil.  My  thoughts
could not but recur to the circumstances of her decease-to her exclamations in the conscious approach
of death, when she cried out, "I am going! I am going " and called on the names of the saints to help
her in that extremity. I remembered also, as I sat
109 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
keeping solitary watch by the side of the dead, that
strange promise which she had made me; and my
mind, already growing superstitious under the influ ence of constant meditation upon supernatural occur rences, was now uneasy at the slightest sound. I had
been thus engaged for about an hour, when suddenly
the folding doors between the chapel and the sanctu ary, which had been locked, burst violently open, with
so loud a noise that I uttered a scream, and rushing
to the door, held one side, while the other, striking
the table as it flew open, overturned it, with the candle and the crucifix.  Then, seizing both leaves of the
door, I held them till the sacristan, who had doubtless heard my scream, if she did not hear the noise
made by the doors, came in.  She asked me, in a
whisper, what was the matter. I told her I was greatly alarmed, but did not explain the particulars. She
closed the doors, relocked them, and left me. I then
arranged the table and crucifix, relighted the candle,
and seated myself once more by the side of the corpse.
I fully expected every moment to see her rise from the
coffin. As she had promised to revisit me, now, I
thought, was the moment; and, possessed with this
idea, I placed my hands across her breast, and called
her several times by name. I should not have been
surprised if she had answered me, nor, indeed, at any
thing that might have happened; for, during my stay
in the infirmary, I witnessed scenes and heard sounds
for which I was unable to account. Soon another sister came to relieve me; and, as I was about to leave,
I said to her, "Should you hear or see any thing,
don't be alarmed, sister." She asked me if I had been
110 
SISTER SERAPHIA.
frightened; I made no reply; and she then could not
be persuaded to remain. I staid therefore alone until
the morning, but heard nothing else to disturb the
still repose of death.
111
I 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXII.
MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS.
I HAVE said that many things occurred during my
stay at St. Joseph's that seemed strange at the time,
and, however easily to be explained as machinations
of miracle-working priestcraft, caused much alarm and
excitement among the community where they were enacted.   This will scarcely seem matter of surprise
when it is considered what an atmosphere of superstition and what a world of imaginary fears surround the
poor inmates of a convent.
One of the older sisters, having died, was committed
to the grave with the usual ceremonies, and the members of the community retired from the spot, leaving
the sexton to complete the interment. When he had
commenced to fill up the grave with earth, a loud and
distinct rapping was heard to proceed apparently from
the interior of the coffin. The sexton was surprised,
but thought his ears deceived him, when, the sounds
continuing, he became greatly terrified, dropped his
spade, and ran in haste for the priest. It was only
after much solicitation that the latter would consent to
accompany the sexton to the grave, not believing his
story; but finally he was persuaded to do so, in order,
as he said, to convince the frightened man of his foll-.
112 
MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS.
On arriving at the place of burial, the sounds were still
heard, and, by command of the now apparently startled
priest, the coffin was taken out and opened, and the
cornet raised from the face of the sleeper to see if any
signs of life remained. But she lay in the stillness of
death, and the rapping had ceased. The coffin being
again committed to the grave, the sounds were resumed, more loudly than before, and then continued
to be heard, fainter and fainter, till smothered beneathli
the weight of earth, as the priest hastily directed the
sexton to fill up the grave.
Around the walls of the cell where this sister died,
knocks were repeatedly heard. A sister who was ill,
and who slept there, told me she could not rest for the
loud rapping that occurred, and begged me to get her
a lamp to burn at night; but lights are not allowed in
the cells of the institution, and no one, with the exception of a few who have special charge, is permitted to
possess a candle or a match at any time.*
* Miracles have been rife at the institution of St. Joseph's.  "On
the 10th of June, 1820," soon after the death of Mother Seton, the
founder of the establishment, "one of the sisters, who had been reduced by an accumulation of diseases to the very verge of the grave,
was suddenly restored to health, immediately after receiving the holy
communion. For thirty-six days she had not been able to retain the
least particle of food on her stomach; and whenever she attempted to
take any nourishment, it was ejected with such violent sufferings as to
create the apprehension of immediate death. The physicians having
exhausted all the resources of their art, and the case having been pronounced desperate, she was advised by Mr. Dubois to make a novena,
or nine days' devotion, in honor of the holy name of Jesus, in union
with Prince Hohenlohe, who, on a previous occasion, had announced that
on the tenth of each month he would pray for the intentions of those
living out of Europe. On the last day of the novena she received the
blessed sacrament at the hands of the Reverend Superior, and all her
113 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXIII.
GRADES IN THE SISTERHOOD.
IT is time that I should endeavor to explain the
meaning of the several terms that have been here used
in designation of the several grades that exist in the
sisterhood at St. Joseph's; those, namely, of Postulant, YVovice, or Seminary Siter, and Professed Sister. The explanation will exact of my reader some
little patience and attention. I shall, however, make
it as plain and brief as possible.
A POSTULANT is one on probation in the community. She wears in general a plain black dress with a
cape, and on the head a white cap, concealing a part
of her face. The period of postulancy is seldom protracted beyond the space of three months. It may be
less than this, according as the Superior shall determine. I myself took the habit before the expiration of
that period. The postulants are not all retained in
the institution; many are sent away within a few days
after their arrival. But, though they may be turned
off, they can not leave of their own accord. This depends upon the will of the Superior alone, their own
will being renounced at their entrance.
morbid symptoms instantly disappeared. On the 10th of August, another case of disease, but of a much more aggravated character, wag
also suddenly cured by performing a similar novena in union with
Prince Hohenlohe."-Life of Mrs. Seton, p.' 444.
114 
GRADES IN THE SISTERHOOD.
The rules and regulations of the sisterhood are not
fully made known to a postulant until the period of
her retreat.  The purpose of this retreat, indeed, is
chiefly to acquaint the postulant with the nature of
the three vows-those of poverty, chastity, and obedience-and the obligation she then assumes is expressed to her in language somewhat as follows: "You
do now bind yourself to keep forever these vows," etc.
No response is required, but in silence, total, abject
silence, all is to be listened to with the most thorough acquiescence. This retreat lasts from five to
eight days. The time is spent in silent prayer and
meditation, nor is the postulant allowed to utter a solitary word during this period. At its close the "habit" is received. The postulant then becomes a NOVICE,
or "Seminary Sister."  Such she continues to be until the expiration of five years, when she "takes the
vows."  These vows I believe to be none other than
those communicated in the retreat of the postulancy.
These once assumed, she becomes a Professed Sister.
The " holy habit," which is worn by the professed
sisters, is given to the novices whenever the Superior
may please to grant it. I had been measured for my
own shortly before my escape; this, probably, was
owing to the fact of my employment in the academy,
and my subordinate charge of the novices in the novitiate at "adoration," and in the refectory.
The " novitiate-room" is occupied by the postulants
and novices, the former being seated on benches in
the centre, and the latter in seats along the walls,
facing the postulants.
At the termination of the five years when the "vows
115 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
are taken," the novice does not gain access to the community-room among the "professed;" although she is
then a professed sister, she is still called a novice.
A farther probation is required before admission to
that room.   Three years at least, amounting, with
those already spent in the novitiate, to eight, and sometimes even to ten, must yet elapse before these sisters,
now called "novices professed," can become occupants
of that higher sanctuary called the community-roomn.
Thus it will be perceived that there are in what is
termed the novitiate-room three classes of sisters-postulants, novices not professed, and novices professed;
the last, and some of the second class, wearing the
holy habit. The term sister is applicable to all the
grades in the community; and when we speak of the
community generally, we mean the entire body or sisterhood.
The three to five years that are spent in the novitiate before admission to the comrn?unity-room, besides
the five years above mentioned, constitute, doubtless,
a sort of probation, during which it may be ascertained
whether the sister be qualified by natural capacities,
or by acquirements of education, for the duties of a
"sister of charity," or whether she be sufficiently reliable to be intrusted with the secrets of this higher
grade before she can be sent abroad into the world on
a mission. This is particularly requisite in the case
of those who are designed for teachers, and for "sister-servants" to take charge of the mission houses, or
to perform other duties that demand more or less ability. Such a probation is not required, however, of
those sisters who are ignorant or of homely appear
116 
GRADES IN THE SISTERHOOD.
ance. These are often sent out at an earlier period to
fill subordinate places, as servants in mission-houses,
and for other stations.
It will be seen, then, that in the comrmunity-room
none are admitted as inmates until they have spent at
least eight years in the institution. This is the rule,
and no exceptions are, to my knowledge, allowed.
There may be other vows beyond those which were
communicated to me, and much also concerning the
vows I have named; the latter, doubtless, is the fact.
These vows are more strictly to be kept by the novices
than by the "professed" in the community-room.
I have noticed that each PROFESSED SISTER, as well
as each of those who intend to assume the vows, when
approaching the time of that assumption, carries in her
pocket a small black book, tied with black tape, which
is attached to it at the pointed end of a lappet of some
black material, extending beyond one cover, and folding over it like a pocket-book.   Should this book fall,
or be left by accident lying in any place, its contents
would thus be concealed unless the tape were unfastened. I always supposed, from the care taken to keep
this book out of view, that it contained something of
an improper nature relative to the vows assumed, a supposition which was engendered by reading in the books
of the conferences. The sisters generally read this
book before confession.
I am aware that after the first five years the sisters
are required to renew their vows yearly, on a certain
fixed day, and in words they do make the vows from
year to year, but in heart they bind themselves forever. At these appointed periods of renewal, the sis
117
, 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ters respond to their vows in an audible tone of voice.
This is done at high mass, just before communion, and
with the remembrance that those who perform the act
nave no longer any will of their own.   The rule declares that they can not leave the institution during
this interval of renewal, nor during the course of the
year.  And the vows must be thus renewed yearly,
on the day set apart for the purpose.   Before entering
St. Joseph's, I was told that I could leave at any moment at my pleasure. I was assured that, not only
before the expiration of the five years of novitiate, but
even after that period, I should only be bound to remain for a year at a time, being free to renew my
vows at the end of each period or not, as I might
choose. This I found to be all fraud and deception.
118 
COSTUME OF THE SISTERS.
CHAPTER XXIV.
COSTUM3E OF THE SISTERS.
IT may be well here to describe, in a few words, the
costume of the sisterhood, before farther explanations
respecting the vows. The dress of a novice consists
of a black gown, a dark blue apron, with a boddice
covering part of a small white shawl, falling gracefully
over the shoulders, and not concealing the form. On
the head is worn a closely-fitting cap, made of white
muslin, covering the ears and concealing the hair,
which has been cut short. Over this cap is worn a
white "bonnet," the "bobs" of which fall over the
shoulders to the waist behind. Over the " bonnet"*
again is the black "capot," a kind of silk veil that
hangs over the shoulders, extending nearly to the feet.
This dress is also called the sister's habit, or the sem
inary dress.
The "holy habit," or dress worn by the older sisters, consists of a gray cloth gown, an apron of the
same material, loose hanging sleeves, and beneath it
a white linen sleeve that fastens around the wrist.
Over this is drawn in winter a close worsted sleeve.
Around the neck is worn a broad linen collar, falling
nearly to the waist in front, where the ends overlap
each other slightly. The head is shaved close, and is
* Pronounced bonne&
119 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
covered with a closely-fitting cap called the touquoir.
Over this is worn the "cornet," which is a broad piece
of linen, fashioned into a species of bonnet, and drawn
to a point above the face; it projects in front over the
forehead about six inches. The sides, or "wings,"
droop to the shoulders, but do not touch them. The
sisters often say, "These are the wings that will carry
us to heaven."
Large heavy beads, with a crucifix attached, are
worn at the left side, and constitute a part of the dress.
These are to be distinguished from the chaplet beads,*
which, when not carried in the pocket, are worn on the
right side.   Some of the sisters possess, attached to
the chaplet, a small crucifix, said to be made of the
wood of the tree under which St. Vincent was in the
habit of sitting.  The holy habit, when put on or
taken off, is always reverentially kissed. The costume
at first adopted by lIrs. Seton for the institution of St.
Joseph's is thus particularly described in her life: "A
black dress with a short cape, similar to a costume
that she had observed among the religious in Italy.
Her head-dress was a neat white muslin cap, with a
crimped border, and a black crape band around the
head, fastened under the chin."-P. 253.
The shoes worn by the sisters are of the coarsest
kind. Speaking of them, I may mention, as an illustration of the petty annoyances which are designedly
practiced upon the younger sisters, for their 8piritual
advantage no doubt, the following incident. Shortly
after my entrance as a postulant, Sister J. P       met
me in the corridor, and, looking down at my gaiter-:
* Chapelet, French; rosary.
120 
COSTUME OF  TiJE SISTElRS.
boots, she said to me, "You must not wear such shoes
as those; come with me." I followed her to a room
on the ground floor, partly paved with bricks, used for
bathing, and also as a shoe depository. Having seat ed me on a small bench, the sister said, "Put out your
foot here;" and then, for a long time, looked for a pair
of shoes to fit me. They were all too large; and as
I expressed my dissatisfaction, she said, "It's no mat ter; you don't want your feet to look small; you are
not' in the world' now;" and so saying, she took the
smallest pair she could find, and placed them on my
feet. These shoes, like all the rest in the room, were
made of leather, with a strap on each side of the instep, and tied with a leathern string. The soles were
about half an inch thick. Once a week we blacked
our own shoes in the same room. A few days after
this, the same sister met me limping, and asked me
what was the matter. I told her that my feet were
chafed by the slipping of the shoes up and down when
I walked, and by the binding or cord around the top.
She then went with me into the refectory, and cut the
binding, which somewhat relieved me. It was long
before I could accustom myself to the use of these
shoes.  A few weeks before I left, I had a new pair
given me, having worn the former through on one side.
That pair was then given in my presence to a postulant; whether they were mended or not afterward, I
can not say. The Lady Superior wears morocco
buskins.
F
121 
1MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE VOW OF POVERTY.
THE first of the vows taken ill the institution, namely, that of poverty, is of sufficiently plain significance,
its purpose being evidently to enrich the establishment
by so much property as the members of the community
may possess, as well as to derive from their manual labor
all their earnings, over and above the amount required
for their own support. As members of the community, they would naturally be more likely to donate
their possessions to the institution than otherwise to
dispose of them. But, moreover, their vow of poverty not only precludes them from retaining this property within their own hands, but actually places all
they possess at the disposal of the Father Superior,
as declared by the "Rules," and as stated in the
"Conferences," whichl are read when the sisters assume the habit.
A sister breaks the vow of poverty should she see
upon the floor a pin or a needle, a piece of thread or
cotton, or any other trifle, and fail to take care of it.
Economy is carried even to parsimoniousness for the
advancement of the order.  Under this vow, a sister
can not wish for any object, even though it be a new
habit; in case that the one she wears has been worn
122 
THE VOW OF POVERTY.
threadbare, or is torn or patched, she must wait and
be contented till another be given her.* The work
from which the note below is taken was often quoted
from for our edification.
When speaking of the habit, shoes, or any other
article of apparel, a sister must not say "my habit,
my shoes, or my pencil;" she is not permitted to consider herself the owner of any thing, not even of her
own person. She must feel that she belongs, soul and
body, to the service of the community; her will pertains to the Father Superior. The mistress of novices
once told me that my body was not my own, but be
* "The second degree of poverty," says the Roman Catholic Textbook for Nuns, "is to deprive yourself of whatever is superfluous, for
the smallest superfluity will prevent a perfect union of the soul with
God. St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi went so far as to strip her little
altar of all its ornaments except the crucifix. St. Theresa relates of
herself that, knowing God to be most jealous of religious poverty, she
could not' recollect' herself in prayer so long as she retained any thing
which she thought to be superfluous. If in your convent there is not
a perfect community of property, endeavor at least to imitate the poverty practiced by the most exemplary and exact among your companions, as well in dress as in food and furniture. But you will perhaps
say that whatever you possess is retained with the leave of the Superior. Permission to keep superfluities may save you from the punishments inflicted on'proprietors,' but will not secure to you the merit
of perfect poverty. Again, you will perhaps say that you have no attachment to what you keep; but whether you have an attachment to
it or not, the possession of what is not necessary will always prevent
you from attaining the perfection of poverty. You may imagine that
a certain sum of money or a certain amount of property will enable you
to relieve the poor or to assist your companions, but I repeat that it
is the nun who has nothing to give, and not the religious who has the
means of distributing alms, that edifies the Church.
"ABOVE ALL, SEEK TO BE POOR IN MONEY."-St. Alphonsus Liguori.
"The AlTun Sanctified;" translated and publishedfor the use of English
Nuns and Postulants. 8vo. Dublin, 1848.
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1MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
longed to the community. The community is called
"our mother;" and every sister is bound to love and
cherish it as a daughter.
Some of the sisters have constant hemorrhages from
the lungs, and such are required to carry, wrapped in
a pocket-handkerchief, a small square bottle, which is
kept corked. This is used by all who raise blood
even occasionally; for, should they use their handkerchiefs to wipe the blood from their mouths, it would be
an infraction of the vow of poverty, as it would tend
to wear them out, and also cause a waste of soap and
a loss of time in washing them. The handkerchiefs
used by the vow-sisters in the community-room are
about thirty inches square; they are of fine linen, imported friom France in the piece, and are cut so as to
form a square according to the width of the piece.
The novices, however, use cotton handkerchiefs.
The vow of poverty prohibits a sister from using any
thing to gratify the senses, such as perfume; or to
wear any ornament as such, or to partake of any luxuries, such as cake, preserves, custard, or whatever
pleases the palate. Should any such article be offered, it must be refused. It is not allowable to desire
to eat any thing but the most common food, and that
only when given. A sister breaks her vow of poverty
when she gets hungry and desires to eat between
meals. At the table she must eat what is set before
her or go without eating, and she is taught to take
food only with a view to strengthen the body for the
performance of duties, and to take no pleasure in it.
She may not accept the most trifling present from
any one without permission of the Superior or the
124 
THE VOW OF POVERTY.
mistress of novices, nor can she give away any object
without first obtaining permission. It is not allowed
her to receive firom a boarder even a flower, though it
be presented by a pupil under her own tuition.
It is a mortal sin for a sister to use perfume, and
the use of looking-glasses is entirely prohibited; not
even the boarders are permitted to use them. They
would sometimes keep a small piece concealed, and I
have known some of them to bury their perfume-bot tles in the play-ground, because it was a forbidden ar ticle.
One day, as I passed a boarder who had been ar ranging her hair, she said to me, in a playful manner,
"Sister, what is this on my hair?"  I stooped my
head, and, smelling the perfume, smiled, but said nothing. An old sister, coming along at the time, observed
the movement, and said, lifting up her hands in holy
horror, " Why, sister, why did you not practice mortification?" It will be remembered that to touch or notice any person, even a boarder, in the way of a pleasing attention, or for any other purpose than the performance of the "duties" assigned, is a mortal sin.
The person of a sister is considered sacred and holy,
and this impression is to be made and kept in the
minds of the boarders.
A few words in relation to our conduct toward the
boarders of the academy may not be out of place here.
As a young novice, looking so sanctimonious, so
sad and dejected, I was often regarded by the mischievous girls of the academy with doubt and incredulity as to my fitness for the life of a convent, and
frequently they would say to me, "Sister, what did
125 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
you come here for? Sister, you ought to be in the
world; you can not be happy here; you will certainly die if you stay here; I believe you are dying with
the consumption; you look like a saint, sister, but
you are too young to be here; this is not the place
for you," etc. Yet, though such kindly-meant remarks
might be made to me by the boarders, it was never
safe to communicate with them or to corroborate their
surmises, lest it should reach the ear of the Superior,
and bring upon me the infliction of penances as well as
more strict confinement and more onerous "duties."
Had I given to any one of them a hint of dissatisfaction, she might have repeated it in another class-room,
or at least have allowed some allusion to escape, upon
which I would have been immediately arraigned. The
necessity of such strict surveillance over those sisters
who have duties in the academy will at once appear.
Any such intimation of dissatisfied feeling might alarm
some boarder who was seriously thinking of entering
the community; hence none but those whose exemplary conduct recommended them to the officers as reliable in this particular were permitted to teach the
boarders.
To stop in the corridor for the purpose of looking at
or smelling a flower, whose fresh bloom and delicate
odor might occasionally tempt to a momentary indulgence of innocent enjoyment-this would be a loss of
time, and thus would amount to a breach of the vow
of poverty. Not an instant must be wasted in any
sort of pleasurable occupation. Secular music is never allowed in the community. It is work, or worship
-" duties" of some kind or other, and that continu
126 
THE VOW OF POVERTY.
ally. When lying upon the bed at night, every wakeful moment must be employed in meditations on the
subject assigned before retiring, in the recitation of
prayers, or in "making aspirations," that is, uttering
some ejaculatory expression, such as " Sweet Jesus!
Sweet Mother!  Holy St. Joseph, pray for me!  My
blessed 3lother!  Holy Virgin!  Mary my Mother!"
etc.
Even during sickness, a sister is not permitted to
have or to desire any article, such as ice, that might
be grateful to the taste, and add to her comfort while
the fever is upon her. Of this I will relate a single
instance. It is that of the sick sister in the infirmary,
by whose appearance I had been particularly struck
during my postulancy, and who had subsequently been
sent away from the institution. I now saw her again.
She had been to Baltimore for the amputation of her
arm, and while absent, prayers had been said for her,
that she might survive the operation. She had now
returned, the arm having been taken off below the elbow. I saw her in the infirmary, where I was also,
ill. After my recovery I was put there on duty.
Among others I attended her, dressing her arm, changing her clothes, and administering her medicine.
Slhe was placed in a small room adjoining the mailn
apartment, and was the only patient there, although
the infirmary was not at that time full. It was the
room that I have elsewhere mentioned as used for the
purpose of a "dead room," bodies being laid out there
previous to the funeral service in the chapel and the
interment. At this period I slept in the infirmary.
One night I was awoke by a furious storm that moan
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ed and whistled round the building. Hearing steps in
the passage near the infirmary door, I rose, and went
to ascertain the cause. There is no door between the
infirmary and the small room before alluded to, but
the doors of both rooms open upon one passage, as before related. I saw a figure in white leaning against
the wall. It was the poor sister, who had come out
into the passage. She appeared exceedingly agitated
and alarmed, and entreated me to accompany her to
her room, stating that she had been so startled by extraordinary sounds that she should certainly die with
terror. Supposing that the storm had thus frightened
her, I went and remained with her till it was over;
but she could not be pacified. She afterward declared
that these noises had been heard before the storm,
and were still repeated nightly; and as evening approached, she seemed in an agony of distress, beseeching me to procure a light for her. The room was, I
think, the same with that in which had died the religieuse from whose coffin the sound of rapping appeared
to proceed.
In assisting one day to change her clothes, I was
surprised to observe a large swelling on her right side.
I asked her the cause of it. She told me that she had
been in the institution about eight months, when she
was sent from the refectory one evening for some
plates. She was bringing an armful from the kitchen,
and was crossing the porch, covered at that time with
ice and snow, when she stumbled and fell, her side
striking across a tub which stood in her way, and thus
the swelling had been occasioned. She had been sent
to the infirmary, but nothing was done for her side
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THE VOW OF POVERTY.
no application whatever having been made to it. Hier
health had been bad ever since, and she had been re peatedly sent to the infirmary. I touched the lump,
and it appeared to me like a projecting portion of bone.
I continued to attend her for some weeks, and about
a fortnight after I had left the infirmary she died. She
was not allowed a light at night, though more than
once she pleaded for it. She asked for ice to put in
the water she drank, and was refused. I made the
same request in her behalf, but could not obtain it.
She solicited some little delicacies, such as a lemon
and all apple, but they were denied her. No sick person is permitted to ask for any thing; I never dared
do so when ill. The very things desired were generally the last to be granted.
This sister had a cough, and was, as I supposed, in
the consumption. Her arm was never entirely healed.
She was a native of Switzerland, and spoke broken English. She told me she had come to this country with
her sister and her sister's husband from France. They
placed her at St. Joseph's, and left her there; she had
never seen or heard from them since. I inferred at
the time that, in all probability, she had been wealthy,
or had been brought there for some wrong motive, instead of being left at the Mother Hlouse in Paris; and
she often expressed the wish that she had been so left,
instead of being brought to this country. Some mystery was connected with her case. I frequently saw
her weeping; she would refuse medicine, and say she
did not wish to live.  I helped to lay her body in the
coffin; I watched by the side of it, and assisted two
other novices in carrying it to the chapel door and
F2
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placing it upon the bier. Under the weight of the
burden in so doing, I was almost bent to the ground,
and thought I should have fainted with the effort.
This sister's name was Neomesia; her age I should
judge to have been about twenty to twenty-three
years.
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YOWS OF CHASTITY AND OBEDIENCE.
CHAPTER XXVI.
VOWS OF CHASTITY AND OBEDIENCE.
THE other two vows, or obligations of CHASTITY and
OBEDIENCE, when fully explained in their relations
with the peculiar ideas inculcated by the priests conicerning their breach and observance, will doubtless
prove novel and startling to the unsophisticated denizens of "the world" without, to whom Jesuitical casuistry and doctrine are unknown pursuits of study.
These vows will be treated in connection.
A sister or religieuse breaks the vow of chastity
by looking a man or woman, and even a "sister," in
the face, unless required by duty.-'," She must not
* St. Alphonsus Liguori, one of the most eminent saints of the Roman Catholic Church in modern times, in his work entitled " The Nun
Sanctified," thus dilates on the " sanctification of the eyes:"
"A deliberate glance at a person of a different sex often enkindles
an infernal spark which consumes the soul. The first dart which
wounds and frequently robs chaste souls of life finds admission through
the eyes. St. Bernard, after being a novice for a year, could not tell
whether his cell was vaulted. In consequence of never raising his
eyes from the ground, he never knew that there were but three windows in the church of the monastery in which he spent his novitiate.
The saints were particularly cautious not to look at persons of a different sex.  St. Hugh, bishop, when compelled to speak with women,
never looked at them in the face.  St. Clare would never fix her qfes
on the face of a man; she was greatly afflicted because, when raising
her eyes at the elevation to see the consecrated Host, she once invol
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raise her eyes to a sister, nor when speaking to or addressed by the Father Superior, her confessor, or any
untarily saw the countenance of the priest. St. Lewis Gonzaga never
looked his own mother in the face. It is related of St. Arsenius that
a noble lady went to visit him in the desert to beg of him to recom mend her to God.   When the saint perceived that his visitor was a
woman, he turned away from her. She then said to him,' Arsenius,
since you will neither see nor hear me, at least remember me in your
prayers.''No,' replied the saint,' but I will beg of God to make me
forget you, and never more to think of you.'
"From these examples," proceeds the saint, "may be seen the follyv and temerity of some religious, who, though they have not the sanctity of a St. Clare, still gaze around from the terrace, in the parlor, and
in the church, upon every object that presents itself, even on persons
of a different sex; and notwithstanding their unguarded looks, they
expect to be free from temptations and from the danger of sin.  For
having once looked deliberately at a woman who was gathering ears
of corn, the Abbot Pastor was tormented for forty years by temptations against chastity.  St. Gregory states that the temptation, to conquer which St. Benedict rolled himself in thorns, arose from one incautious glance at a female. St. Jerome, though living in a cave at Bethlehem in continual prayer and macerations of the flesh, was terribly
molested by the remembrance of ladies whom he had long before seen
in Rome. Wlhy should not similar molestations be the lot of the religious who willfully and without reserve fixes her eyes on persons of
a different sex'........  Father Manarco, when taking leave of St.
Ignatius for a distant place, looked steadfastly in his face; for this look
he was corrected by the saint. From the conduct of St. Ignatius on
this occasion, we learn that it was not becoming in religious to fix their
eyes on the countenance of a person even of the same sex, particularly if the person is young. But I do not see how looks at a young person of a different sex can be excused from the guilt of a venial fault,
or even from mortal sin, when there is proximate danger of criminal
consent.
" Except in looking at such objects (sacred images, etc.), a religious
should in general keep the eyes cast down, and particularly in places
where they may fall upon dangerous objects. In conversing with
men, she should never roll the eyes about to look at them, and much
less to look at them a second time.
"St. Francis of Assisium once said to his companion that he was
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VOWS OF CHASTITY AND OBEDIENCE.
other priest.  She must not suffer her thoughts to
dwell upon any individual of the other sex.   She
must not touch a sister's hand, nor her habit, nor allow herself to be touched by another.  Persons "in
the world" she must neither look at nor touch, nor may
she permit them to touch her hand or her habit. If
allowed to see a father or a brother, she must not take
his hand. Sisters may not see one another with their
heads uncovered. A religiezse must renounce all curiosity, never look around her, nor through a window,
nor toward a door when it is opened, to see who enters.
She must walk through the cloisters and corridors with
downcast eyes, and hands folded in her sleeves in front
of her breast, passing and repassing the sisters without a word or a sign of recognition.
Should a sister be seen conversing with a boarder,
she would be reported to the Superior, severely repri
going out to preach. After walking through the town with his eyes
fixed on the ground, he returned to the convent. His companion asked him when he would preach the sermon.'We have,' replied the
saint,'by the modesty of our looks, given an excellent instruction to
all who saw us.' It is related of St. Lewis Gonzaga that, when he
walked through Rome, the students would stand in the streets to observe and admire his great modesty."
How unlike the real quality, we may add, is this sham modesty that
says, Come and see how modest we arc!
"To be faithful to her spouse," says St. Basil, "a virgin must be
immaculate in her tongue by the delicacy of her language, and by abstinence as much as possible from conversations with men; she must be
immaculate in the ears by shunning, like death itself, all worldly discourses; immaculate in her eyes by the modesty of her looks, always
restrained so as never to fix them on the face of a man," etc.-St.
Basil, de Vera Virg.
Injunctions of this character were frequently repeated to us by the
priests and mistress of novices for our instruction.
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manded, and assigned a penance. Often have I veiled, by a powerful effort, my unhappiness from the
boarders, but they could not help observing and marking at times the paleness of my countenance, which
bore traces of the agony that shook at times my very
soul. Yet I durst not appear otherwise than calm and
collected, nor say one word about the cause of my unhappiness, nor even raise my eyes, while walking
through the academy.
Sometimes, indeed, I would venture to answer the
voice of some gentle girl, who would speak to me in
passing, and whose sunny smile would cheer my sad
and lonely heart, but from the clasp of whose hand
I would be forced to recoil as from a serpent's touch.
I was narrowly watched, and frequently reported as
guilty of" impropriety," and many a reprimand have I
received for speaking on such an occasion, or for suffering my hand to be taken, or my waist encircled by the
arm of a pupil, anll offense which would be reported by
spies of the community, who are ever on the alert.
Indeed, the rule requires that any such transgression
be avowed in confession, and that penance be solicited
in expiation of it.
But in regard to the observance of these and all
other rules, it must be borne in mind that, should the
Superior at any time command the contrary, the sister must OBEY. Should a priest, and particularly a
priest of the Order of St. Lazare, take her hand, with
whatever intention, she may not withdraw it. The
VOW Of OBEDIENCE here has szvremacy over tze vow
of c]astity.
Should her thoughts go out into the world, should
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VOWS OF CHASTITY AND OBEDIENCE.
memory call up a friend of the other sex, should the
mind overleap prescribed limits, especially with reference to a priest, she must make known that thought
at the confessional. Yet if the Superior, her confessor, or any other Lazarist, should direct her thoughts
to such topics, she would be commendable in so doing,
for she would prove her obedience.
In the books of the "Conferences," so called, which
are occasionally read to the community, particular directions are given by the founder concerning the vows,
rules, and regulations of the sisterhood. These books
are kept locked in a mahogany box, and are only taken
out to be read to the community during annual retreat.  When reading these "Conferences," as translated from the French original, I have frequently been
made to blush at what I was reading. In one of these
books the sisters are told not to fall in love with a
priest; but should they do so, to tell him of it, and obtain his advice. Should a sister on a mission chance
to entertain such feelings toward a priest, she is instructed at once to inform the Superior, and ask for a
change of place. Sometimes this request is granted.
And here I would solicit the earnest and candid attention of the reader to the infamous craft exercised in
these regulations. A young girl, thoughtlessly betrayed into an infraction of the rules, such as that just
mentioned, discloses her error as required. The priest
thus informed can either take advantage of her confession or not, as he may feel inclined, or as his judgment of the character of the sister may determine.
Sometimes policy will induce him to express a holy
horror at the offense, with a view to the exalting of
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his own superior sanctity, and this especially if he
should entertain an aversion for the penitent, or should
he deem her an unsuitable subject for his purposes.
On the other hand, should his own evil heart suggest
to him the moral destruction of this sister, how great
the advantage he possesses for its accomplishment, in
view of this doctrine of passive and meritorious obedience.
In a word, the sisters are taught that their vow of
OBEDIENCE is supreme; that the expressed will of the
Superior must be regarded as the voice of God, and
that in case the vow of chastity be violated by those
exercising authority over them, no sin can be imtuted
to themselves, because they are doing right by maintainin7 invio7late the vow of OBEDIENCE.*
* If the testimony of personal observation on this subject needs to
be confirmed, it will only be requisite to quote a few words from the
highest authorities.  "The principal and most efficacious means of
practicing the obedience due to superiors," says St. Alphonsus Liguori, "and of rendering it meritorious before God, is to consider that,
in obeying them, we obey God himself, and that by despising their
commands we despise the authority of our divine Master, who has
said of superiors,' He that heareth you, heareth me.' When, then, a
religious receives a precept from her prelate, superior, or confessor,
she should immediately execute it, not only to please men, but principally to please God, whose will is made known to her by their commands. In obeying their directions, she is more certain of doing the
will of God than if an angel came down from heaven to manifest his
will to her.
"It may be added that there is more certainty of doing the will
of God by obedience to superiors, than by obedience to Jesus Christ,
should he appear in person and give his commands. Because, should
Jesus Christ appear to a religious, she would not be certain whether
it was he that spoke or an evil spirit, who, under the appearance of
the Redeemer, wished to deceive her....  In a word, the only way
by which a religious can become a saint, and be saved, is TO OBSEFVE
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VOWS OF CHASTITY AND OBEDIENCE.
HER RULE; FOR HER THERE IS NO OTHER WAY THAT LEADS TO SALVATION!"
Awful blasphemy!  Yet Jesus said, "I am the way; 1no man cometh to the Father but by me."
"The fourth and last degree of perfect obedience," observes this
saint elsewhere, "is to obey with simplicity.... St. Mary Magdalene
de Pazzi says that'perfect obedience requires a soul without a will, and
a will without an intellect.'.... To regard as good whatever superiors
command is the blind obedience so much praised by the saints, and is
the duty of every religious..... To try the obedience of their subjects, superiors sometimes impose commands that are inexpedient, and
even absurd. St. Francis commanded his disciples to plant cabbages
with their roots uppermost. He obliged Brother Matthew to continue
turning round till he fell to the ground."
Copious directions are given to nuns by St. Alphonsus as to the necessity of blindly following the confessor.  "Obey him, theni," he says,
"not as man, but as God, and you shall never err. In the beginning
of his conversion, St. Ignatius of Loyola was so violently assailed by
scruples, and so encumbered with darkness, that hlie found no peace.
But because he had true faith in the word of God (he that hcareth you
heareth me), he said, with great confidence,' Lord, show me the way
in which I ought to walk, and, though you should give me a dog for
my guide, I will faithfully follow him.'"
But lest it be supposed that any exercise of judgment be allowed the
nun as to what is divine guidance and what is not, St. Alphonsus
takes care to add: "To nuns who begin to censure the decisions of
their confessors, we ought to say what the learned Monsignior Sperelli
wrote to a religious who had accused him of heresy because he had
said that the sins which she had confessed were not sins.'Tell me,'
said the learned bishop to her,' in what university have you studied
theology, that you know better than your confessor how to decide on
sin? Ah! go to spin, and do not give ear to such follies.'"
Such are the perils of a loose morality-should we not rather say
of a gross immorality?-to which a young girl is exposed, in our own
Christian land, who gives herself to the guidance of corrupt and corrupting priests. The voice of conscience, that monitor of God's own
appointment in every human bosom, is silenced by the vile utterance
of a sinful man.   The "more sure word of prophecy," which God has
put into our hands as all-sufficient for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God might be
perfect, thoroughly furnished unto every good work, is laid aside for
the authority of the confessional and the lying wonders of tradition.
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CHAPTER XXVII.
MORALS AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
As the result of these pernicious and utterly demoralizing doctrines, a lamentable state of things, I grieve
to say, existed among a portion of the community at
St. Joseph's. It was some time-so little suspicion
of the truth was entertained-before I understood and
appreciated the symptoms of the evil that raged around
me. When, at length, the light dawned upon my
mind, it was accompanied by a shock as of electricity,
that paralyzed me for the moment. I almost doubted
the evidence of my senses; but with the reaction came
the strong resolution to leave at all hazards the precincts of such an establishment; a resolution only
hastened in its accomplishment by subsequent events.
And here let me add-for I would not be so misunderstood-that I have no intention to include the
whole sisterhood in one sweeping charge of immorality.  Far from it.  Many are unquestionably pure in
their feelings and sincere in their desires to serve God,
however mistaken and ill founded the views which
they have learned to entertain. Many would be glad
to be freed firom their bonds, and, like a liberated bird,
sing rejoicingly at their release; but others are infatuated with their lot, and no inducement could be of —
fered that would tempt them to leave it.
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MORALS AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
Infractions of moral duty and departures from rectitude are the legitimate consequences of the system
from which they spring, and whatever errors may be
committed by the sisters are justly chargeable to the
reverend guides and directors who inculcate such mischievous tenets.*
* That the Church of Rome knows well the danger rising from the
confessional, and the law of blind obedience, to priest and penitent
both, is clear from her instructions on the subject addressed to confessors. Thus Dens's work on Moral Theology, the text-book at Maynooth
and at other Roman Catholic seminaries, has a clause on just causes
for permitting feelings of a sensual nature. And here it is distinctly
stated that just causes of this sort are the hearing of confessions; the
reading of cases of conscience drawn up for a confessor; necessary or
useful attendance on an invalid. "The effect of a just cause is such,"
he proceeds to say, "that any thing from which such sentiments arise
may be not only lawfully begun, but also lawfully continued; and so
the confessor, receiving those sentiments from the hearing of confessions, ought not, on that account, to abstain from hearing them, but has
a just cause for persevering; provided, however, that they always displease him, and there arise not therefrom the proximate danger of consent." And the theologian proceeds to mention cases in which confessors, in the performance of their office, were accustomed to fall into
sin as often as two and three times in a month; adding, that it is the
duty of the confessor, in such a case, notwithstanding, to persevere in
the discharge of his calling! See Dens, tom. i., p. 299, 300, Coyne's
Dublin edition, 1832.
But more than this: St. Thomas Aquinas, "the Angelic Doctor,"
states as a thesis, that "a' religious,' violating the three primary articles of his rule, viz., poverty, chastity, and obedience, sins mortally."
This thesis, however, is not laid down to be maintained, but to be disproved, and St. Thomas proceeds so to do:
"The state of a'religious' is a safe state.
"But a' religious' is exposed to many temptations to break his rules,
and if to break his rules were mortal sin, then the state of a' religious' would be dangerous instead of safe.
"THEREFORE it is not mortal sin for a'religious' to transgress his
rules!" - St. Thomas Aquinas, Secunda Secund'e, Qunst. clxxxvi.,
art. 9.
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The power conferred upon the fathers by the rite of
confession affords them great facilities to accomplish
their purposes. The highest importance is given to
a strict and punctual attendance at the confessional,
which may truly be denominated the throne of the
Roman Catholic ecclesiastic; for there, armed with
the assumed authority of God, in whose stead he ofiiciates on earth to the suppliant slaves prostrate before him, he deals the terrible anathema of the Church
to the disobedient and refractory, dispenses his "absolution" to the faithful and submissive, and awards
the "penance" to be observed in expiation for sin.
Seated at the confessional, he is empowered, by virtue of his self-arrogated position, to propound queries
which, from the lips of others, would be deemed flagrant insults. Kneeling there, the young maiden answers questions calculated to eradicate every feeling of
modesty, woman's highest charm, and lays bare to the
inquisitive search of her "spiritual director" every secret thought, every incipient emotion, every impulse of
her being. Hlow easy, then, for an evil-disposed confessor stealthily to infuse into the innocent and trusting heart, taught to consider blind obedience a virtue, thoughts, whose growth, cherished by his daily
care, shall soon fill it with a diseased vegetation. If
any distrust betray itself-if any hesitation appear to
the answering of these artfully-framed inquiries, the
objector is readily quieted by an assurance that it is
the confessor's duty, for her soul's sake, to propound
these queries; that hlie is the authorized medium of
communication between her soul and Heaven; that
he occupies the place of the Almighty in reference to
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her spiritual wants and requirements, and must be so
regarded if she wishes to avoid purgatorial fires and
secure future felicity.  Is it, then, a matter of wonder,
that those brought up within the pale of this Church,
and whose every thought and feeling from childhood
to maturity has been watched and directed by such a
"spiritual guide," should yield themselves entirely to
his control, and even see no danger in their abject submissiveness, nor evil purpose in his exercise of unlimited power?
But if "in the world," as it is technically termed,
the confessional may be such a source of perilous and
demoralizing influence to the youthful mind, and so potent an agency for the subserviency of guilty designs,
it may easily be conceived that in a religious commnunity, whose members are secluded from public observation, and given over, bodily and spiritually, to the
charge of priests, its control must be more absolute,
and more unscrupulously exercised.*  Shut up and
* This inevitable result is eloquently set forth by the able author of
Mornings with the Jesuits at Rome.   "In these nunneries," he says,
speaking of the convents of Tuscany, "there are sometimes thirty,
sometimes forty, sometimes fifty, and in many even one hundred nuns.
And these nunneries have almost always convents near them, more or
less large, for those monks who are to be the confessors of those nuns.
And living, as these nuns always do, in a state of seclusion and dullness; living, as they do, a life of hopelessness and monotony, without
the interests of mothers, for they have no children; without the interests of children, for they have no parents; without the interests of sisters, for they have no brothers; without the interests of wives, for they
have no husbands, they are thrown upon their own confessors for society.  And the visits of the monks from the adjoining convents break
the tedium of their lives; break in and while away their hours of idleness, bring to them the gossip of the neighborhood, and reveal to them
the news of the outer world.  And the result is, that from the rising
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deprived of intercourse or communication, even by letter, with parents, relations, and friends, and taught by
the invariable law of human instinct to seek direction
and sympathy from other minds, the inmates of these
institutions submit implicitly to the guidance of their
confessor, and regard his injunctions and admonitions
as "oracles divine." To him they resort in every
trifling difficulty; to him they go with every petty
trouble; and accustomed to view him as a wise arbiter and an infallible monitor, no limit, at least, is
placed to their confidence and obedience until they become the pitiable victims of their black-robed and
black-hearted betrayers.
3Iy recollections of my novitiate at St. Joseph's will
ever be associated with a feeling of contempt and abhorrence for those men who use their advantage of rank
and position to the basest ends, and with deep thankfulness for my own escape from their insidious snares.
It was a contemplation of the peril to which I was exposed that first suggested the idea of escape, at any
risk, from the institution. I could have borne toil,
privation, and bodily maltreatment as the consequences of my own rashness and ill-advised impetuosity, but the future wore too dark and terrible an as
to the setting of the sun, the visits of these monkish confessors are the
objects looked for in the morning, and remembered in the evening.
Now it is only in human nature to suppose that, under such circumstances, attachments may spring up between the younger nuns and
the younger monks. It is no unkindness, it is no scandal to say it-it
is only what nature seems to dictate. The real unkindness, the real
scandal is that the Church of Rome interposes a law, and forbids the
consecrating of these attachments by the bonds of holy wedlock."Rev. Mr. HOBART SEYMOUR, in a Lecture on "Convents or Nunneries,"
at Bath, Eng., June 7th, 1852.
19
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MORALS AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
pect, that I should resign myself with quietness to its
horrors.   Although the conversations  and the acts
of individual members of the community, the secret
mysteries of the confessional, and other circumstances
besides, were ample evidence to my own judgment of
the alarming position I occupied, yet, as it may be
contended by those interested in concealing the truth
that my mental vision was distorted, and that my
prejudices were too strong to admit of a calm, dispassionate induction from what I saw and heard, I feel
most reluctantly compelled to state an incident concerning which there can be no misconception.
A priest, who had been engaged in exercising his
pastoral functions at St. Joseph's, was about to leave
the institution, and, as is customary, the sisters were
directed to enter the room where he was stationed, and
ask a blessing at his hand previous to his departure.
When my turn came, I went in, with downcast eyes
and clasped hands, as required, and knelt to receive
the expected benediction. But instead of the pressure of his hand upon my head, I felt the impression of
a kiss upon my forehead. Startled and confused by a
salutation so unexpected and inappropriate, I stagger
ed to my feet, and ejaculated, almost unconsciously,
the words, "Oh! Father!"   But before I could recover my composure, seizing my wrist with his left
hand, and encircling my waist with his right arm, he
drew me toward him, and imprinted several kisses on
my face before I was able to break from his revolting
embrace. Yet I was compelled, from prudential fears
of the consequences, to be silent respecting this insulting treatment.  What could I do? to whom should I
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
apply for redress and protection? If I had complain ed to the mistress of novices or to the Mother Superi or of the outrage to which I had been subjected, I
should have been denounced as a base calumniator of
the "holyfcathes," and punished for the offense. There
was nothing left but to wait in silence for some other
means of redress.
"Imust quit this place!"  These words were now
continually in my mind. But how? was a question
difficult to be answered. I could not communicate
with my family through the authorities of the institu tion. This privilege had been denied me before, and
I had suffered on account of my expressed desire to
do so. Having experienced the evil results of the
failure of this first attempt, I feared to make a second
effort, lest worse should follow, and a stricter surveillance be kept over me. I could not procure the transmission of a letter by means of the boarders, even had
I been enabled to write one without detection, for all
the letters they send home are examined and read.
This method of communication had been attempted
by others, but the plans were discovered and the offending sisters punished.   A  secret escape was the
sole alternative, and this I resolved, if possible, to accomplish. I was fully aware of the difficulties in the
way, and the fearful issue of a failure; but this thought
only nerved me for the trial, and led me to use every
exertion that secresy and caution could suggest to insure success. Having formed the determination, my
first endeavor was to banish all traces of nervousness
and anxiety from my features, and compose them into
144 
MORALS AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
an expression of calmness and resignation, that no
mistrust of my intention might be entertained.  This
effected, I patiently awaited a favorable opportunity to,
execute my design.
G
I
145 
MIISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CIHAPTER XXVIII.
RELATIONS OF THE LAZARIST PRIESTS TO THE SISTER                       HIOOD.
IN the books of the "Conferences," to which I have
already referred, the founder directs that a priest shall
not be permitted to enter the apartments of the community unless accompanied by a sister. The devil,
he remarks, is always at work, and even angels have
fallen; and yet the novices are accustomed to sleep
in cells with curtains instead of doors! Farther, it is
forbidden that a sister should see a priest alone in a
parlor; there must always be two. Nor is it allowed
that she should visit a priest alone; yet she may remain at the confessional for any length of time alone
with her confessor-nay, she may see him in his own
room in case of indisposition. In fact, the priests do
often enter the rooms of the sisters, and remain there
for a considerable time; nor is any one permitted to
open the door (for the rooms of the vowed sisters have
doors) or enter the room during their stay.
When the Father Superior enters the room of the
Lady Superior, should a sister be present at the time,
it is her duty to withdraw at once; nor is any one allowed to enter while he remains.
A sister never enters the room of the Father Supe
146 
RELATIONS OF THIE LAZARIST PRIESTS, ETC. 147
rior so long as there is another sister in his room.
There is one who attends to his door, and informs the
applicant whether he be engaged. When a sister is
particularly anxious to see him, she writes her name
upon a slate, and is sent for at his option.
Sisters are also advised, in the "Conferences," not
to attend persons of their own sex when solicited to
do so in certain cases of sickness while on their missions "in  the world," lest they might have  bad
thoughts.
One day, while on duty in the room of a professed
sister, I heard groans proceeding from an apartment
nearly opposite, and noticed the inlfirmarian passing
up and down before the room.   I was then commanded to close the door opening into the passage, in order
to prevent the sound from reaching a neighboring corridor, which led to the building occupied by the community.  Having done so, I returned to the duty in
which I was engaged.
After a few minutes I was called by the infirmarian
to the medicine-room. She said to me, "Be quick,
and pour out ten drops from that vial," pointing to one
in the medicine-case.  In my agitation and alarm, instead of dropping the liquid, I poured it out with a
trembling hand-I knew not how much, perhaps a
tea-spoonful. With this I was sent to the sister's
room, and administered it as directed. The sister was
propped up with pillows, extending from the shoulder
downward. She was deadly pale, with dark circles
around the eyes, as I have seen persons appear after
convulsions. Her feet were resting against the foot
of the bed, as if for support. The infirmarian soon 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
followed me into the room, and I saw no other person
there. I retired at once, and resumed my duty with
the sick sister in the opposite room. A short time
after, I heard a priest's voice in the apartment in question, but did not distinguish the conversation.   The
groans increased until they became shrieks, at intervals of about ten minutes, and then more frequent, until almost continuous, when they ceased altogether.
This happened in the course of an afternoon, including a period of about four hours.  I left the sister's
room opposite about three hours and a half subsequent
to my hearing the first groan, and when in the infirmary below could plainly hear the shrieks described.
I had never seen this sister before, except two or
three times within a month previous to this occurrence,
when I had noticed her accidentally in the same room
as I passed the door. On those occasions she was
sitting in a rocking-chair, dressed in a loose wrapper.
After this I saw her occasionally, at first in bed, and
later in a chair. Shortly after, my duties in the infirmary ceased, having continued only some seven
weeks, and I saw no more of her. This took place
about three months before I left the institution; after
this I visited the infirmary but occasionally, when sent
on transient duties.
Shrinking as I do most painfully from the statement of any thing that may seem to throw  a shade
upon the perfect sanctity of those retreats, whiere I
myself long imagined the very embodiment of excellence to dwell, the task I have conscientiously undertaken compels me to withhold nothing that shall acqluaint my countrymen with the reality of those dan
148 
RELATIONS OF THE LAZARIST PRIESTS, ETC. 149
gers to which their daughters may be exposed within
these guarded precincts. It has been my duty to declare, for their warning and determent, some part at
least of that which I have seen and heard as a personal
witness.  Yet I can not bring myself to recount in detail the instances of undue familiarity which have fallen under my own notice, and the evidences of it that
have forced themselves upon my own conviction.   I
hasten to close what it has been necessary to state on
this subject.
Ashen I first visited the institution, before entering
the community, I had in my possession a letter whicli
I had been told to deliver at once upon my arrival into
the hands of the priest. Accordingly, it being about
nine o'clock in the evening, I asked to see him. The
sister who was present, raising her hands and eyes to
heaven in holy horror, exclaimed, "A priest does not
remain here at this hour of night —never!"
After my entrance into the community, as I was
one day walking upon the corridor, I saw a room adjoining the priest's room, through a window which
looked out upon the corridor. In that room I saw a
bed. And I know that a priest once slept there, for
I heard it said that it was too cold for him to come so
early in the morning to say first mass. I have also
heard priests walking through the institution at night.
I am convinced, from these and other considerations,
that priests do sleep there.
I was invited one evening to go with some six or
eight vowed sisters to a place called the Grotto. This
is a spot surrounded by lattice-work, in the centre-of
which stands a statue of the Virgin.  There are seats 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
around it, and a delicious spring of water gushes forth
near by. Soon after we entered, an Italian Lazarist,
or priest of the corresponding institution of St. Lazare, * came into our midst and took a seat.  The sisters
clustered around him, kneeling, and conversing freely
with him.  Looking up earnestly into his face, they
would exclaim, " O father!" with a tone almost of
adoration. I know of no words to express the intensity of feeling thus manifested, beaming from every
countenance, and exhibited in their actions; fascination does not seem strong enough to convey the idea.
Had the Savior himself been present in person before
them, they could hardly have shown more reverence
and love. Every soul appeared to gaze upon him with
its most ardent affection.
* The' Catholic Almanac" for 1855, in a list of the religious institutions of the archdiocese of Baltimore, illustrates very forcibly and
pithily, in the following extracts, the connection between these two
establishments.   V7c quote verbatim:
"S'r. JCsc:Ir's SIsrnaPIIOOD, Emmettsburg, Md.
" This is tyhe' o,icer-House of the Sisters of Chlarity in the United
States.
"  erv Rev. F. Burlando, Ecclesiastical Superiir.
P-ev. H-. Gandolfo, Chaplain.
Sr.?,. Etienne Hall, Jfother Superior."
"CONGREGATION OF TIIE M,IsSION, Emmettsburg, Md.
" Very Rev. Francis Burlando, C. M.
Rev. Hippolytus Gandolfo, C. lM."
150 
MONTHLY AND ANNUAL RETREAT.
CHAPTER XXIX.
MONTHLY AND ANNUAL RETREAT.
ON a particular Sunday of every month there is observed at St. Joseph's a "m vonthly retreat." That
day is spent in prayer and meditation, in spiritual
reading, in saying the litanies of the Holy Ghost and
the blessed Virgin, in "preparation for death," and
other religious exercises, terminating with a "repetition of the meditations" made in the course of the day.
These meditations are divided into three periods.
The "repetition" of them consists in kneeling at the
centre of the room before the assembled sisterhood,
and repeating the thoughts that have occupied the
mind during each period given to meditation throughout the day, all of which is rehearsed for the edification of the community.
Those gifted with a ready flow of language of course
make beautiful "repetitions," as they can easily fabricate them for the occasion; but others not so en dowed will naturally blunder through the performance
in such a manner as often to excite the risible sensa tions of their hearers. All alike, however, conclude
with the following formula: "I will place my resolu tions in the sacred heart'of Jesus," or "of Mary;";"I
will practice some virtue, and the resolutions I have
made for future conduct." Then kissing the floor, the
151 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
sister returns to her seat. No one is allowed to speak
during the whole day, save as called upon in this exercise.
The "preparation for death," a formulary read aloud
to the community, is calculated to produce emotions
of intense grief, anxiety, and distress, amounting almost to derangement. I have seen sisters weep and
tremble, and have heard them groan as if in the deepest agony of mind. These demonstrations are considered highly commendable, and are particularly encouraged. Mly own feelings were never thus manifested,
for the reason that I felt as though I could welcome
death with all its bitterness. It had no fears for me,
and especially since my mother's death I have had
little desire to live.
These readings commence as follows: "Let me die,
O my God! let me die!  Let my body be eaten by
worms, in punishment for nmy pride," etc., etc.
On the days which are thus occupied by special observances, the regular work and "duties" of the establishment must be dispatched with great speed, to allow time for these unusual engagements; and if not
accomplished in due season, they must be finished
after night prayers.
The Lady Superior does not go into this retreat.
It is made by the novices in the novitiate-room, and
by the professed in the community-room. No one
can leave the room on these occasions for any purpose
whatsoever.
The monthly exercises which I have here described,
attended as they are with such evidences of great depression of spirits, and exhausting as they do the phys.
152 
MONTHLY AND ANNUAL RLIt1R'AT.
eical energies, are not the only seasons when these ef
fects are apparent. In the daily meditation similar
scenes not unfrequently occur. Upon one occasion,
during meditation in the chapel, a sister, overcome by
her feelings, fell to the floor, and, striking against a
settee, cut her face in a shocking manner, so that she
was at once taken to the infirmary.   Fainting aind
falling to the floor are no uncommon events during the
meditation-hiour. When a fast-day happens upon the
day of the monthly retreat, the exercises prove espycially exhausting.
The "ANNUAL RETREAT" is   a period lasting from
eight to ten days, and spent in silent prayer and meditation in the chapel, during which time not a word is
spoken.   Several priests are in constant attendance
to hear confessions.
The " meditations" during this retreat are very exciting.  Frequently will the sisters break forth into
screams; often, faint andcl worn out with prayer, vigils,
and penances, many of them become ill, and are sent
to the infirmary. One of these meditations, the subject of which was "a sister in hell," seemed sufficient
of itself to cause insanity.  It was awful in the extreme. It represented a sister who had broken her
hoty rules and vows, as asked by the Lord after death
for her habit, when she would scream and say, "Give
me back my holy habit!" but would be thrown into
hell to howl and rave with the devils.
During this annual retreat the Superior gives "conferences" in the chapel, consisting of discourses or lectures on such topics as the three vows    Poverty,
Chastity, andl Obedience; and the three virtues which
1 5.11-1 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
are to be practiced in connection with these-Humility, Charity, and Simplicity.
A general confession is made in the course of this
annual retreat. On this occasion the sisters have the
choice of their confessors, for there are several Lazarist priests who are invited to the institution for that
purpose. Sometimes the sisters will remain at the
confessional for two hours, and leave it weeping. I
have seen them enter the confessional much agitated;
often they will lean against the wall for support.
During one of these retreats, which happened while
I was in the institution, I was, of course, obliged to
resort with the rest to confession. I went into a little chapel on one side of the "sanctuary," entered the
confessional, and knelt before the lattice-work. The
priest drew the curtain that covered it on the opposite
side; then, walking to the window, raised the curtain,
so that the light shone directly in my face; and seating himself at the confessional, with his head resting
on his hand, and close to the bars, said, "Sister, draw
aside your veil, that I may see whether your countenanee betokens sorrow for your sins."  I complied reluctantly, and commenced the Confrteo;-" I confess,"
etc.
When I had repeated this, he asked me how old I
was; how long I had been in the institution; why I
entered it; if I was in love with any one when I entered; if I loved any one then, and whether it was a
person in the world, or one consecrated to God.   Of
course I was unprepared for questions of this nature,
and, instead of answering them, said, "Father, I am
ready for confession."  He then remarked, "When I
154 
MONTHLY AND ANNUAL RETRETR.
entered the community (that of St. Lazare), I thought
I had done much for God, but now I find that I have
done nothing." He proceeded to counsel me to imitate the example of St. Theresa.   "You must persevere," he added, "in the service of God; it is a blessed
thing for a young person early to devote herself to the
service of God, and enter such an institution." He
bade me open my heart to him, and tell him every
thought and feeling. I should state that this priest
was about twenty-three or four years of age.
This conversation continued for a length of time, and
I became exceedingly fatigued in my kneeling posture.
I mentioned this to the priest, begging that he would
defer my confession till some other time. Had I not
done so, I know not how long he would have kept me
in the confessional. When I had promised him to
come ag,ain on the following morning, he permitted me
to leave, telling me that in the mean time I must think
of him and pray for him. I saw this priest but once
again as he was passing through the institution.  One
evening, shortly after this incident, I met a "vowed
sister" walking upon the corridor. She inquired of
me, "Have yeou been to confession? and to whom?"
I told her; and she then asked, "Did he put many
questions to you?"  I replied that he did.  The next
day I observed that she went to confession to this
priest, and no doubt she was highly pleased, for she
remained in the confessional three hours. Probably
she wished to go to a person who would address to
her such questions as she would take satisfaction in
answering. This sister was a French person, and one
whom I had often noticed in the corridor conversing
155 
MISS BUNKLEY S BOOK.
with the priests; she also frequently visited their apartment. I have many times seen her and others walking in the passage on the ground floor, as the priests
passed to and from their room. Repeatedly have I
observed the vowed sisters with the priests, walking
up and down this passage, talking and laughing with
them, and retiring with them to their room. Sometimes, when the door chanced to open, I have seen one
of them in a kneeling posture before the priest, and
talking with him.
Sometimes one or two priests and several sisters
take supper together in the community-room, and I
have overheard them talking and laughing in a very
loud tone. On one occasion I was asked by a professed sister to visit with her the house for the Lazarists in Emmettsburg, but I was not permitted to go
near that place.
The sisters frequently went to St. Lazare. This
building belongs to the institution, and is about a mile
distant. During vacation several of the sisters spend
their time there. They have a very beautiful chapel
in the house, wvhere they perform their devotions.
Novices are not permitted to visit here, but the priests
are allowed this privilege. I visited the place three
times in my occasional carriage-drives, and once breakfasted there.  I have never heard that any other novice did so.
In addition to the lectures given by the Superior
in the chapel, conferences are also read,t these annual
retreats by a sister who stands at a table.  In the retreat which I attended about three months before my
escape, the Father Superior, during one of these con
156 
MONTHLY AND ANNUAL RETREAT.
ferenees, took occasion to expatiate on the troubles
that threatened the Church, remarking that there were
enemies who were endeavoring to destroy its servants;
that the Pope was fearful that the avowed opponents
of the Church were about to make a determined effort
to break down its power and destroy its institutions.
He appeared extremely solicitous about this danger,
and requested the prayers of the sisters that the Church
mnight be protected from these anticipated efforts. I
did not then comprehend his meaning, for he seemed
to refer to a special movement of which I knew nothing; but, since my departure from St. Joseph's, I have
concluded that he made allusion to the American movement, which I have learned was at that time rapidly
growving and gaining strength throughout our country.
Nor do I imagine that any other sister understood the
allusion, as we were never permitted to see a newspa per, except occasionally one lying on the Lady Supe rior's table, which it was not allowed to read or touch.
I have, however, seen the Lady Superior attentively
reading newspapers.
At the close of the annual retreat, the sisters are in vited to come to the Lady Superior's room, where she
presents them each with a picture; to some she gives
more than one, and sometimes a "Litany" in French
or English. From the Lady Superior's room they re pair to the Father Superior, before whomn they kneel,
and obtain his blessing. Hie questions them as to the
manner in which they have passed the retreat, their
feelings, etc., and encourages them to keep more strict  ly their holy vows and rules. Sometimes, too, he pre  sents some c- them with a picture, a rosary, a medal,
or other sm'i ft.
157 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXX.
IT was very shortly after the annual retreat, the
nature of which I have now explained, that a letter
was one day received by the Mother Superior from a
young lady, whose parents resided in Virginia. As
she had been a particular acquaintance of mine, I was
summoned to the Superior's presence, and the letter
was handed to me. It had already been opened and
read, doubtless by the Superior, whose practice it was
to do so whenever a letter was sent to any member
of the institution. After reading the contents, which
were addressed to me, inquiring how I liked the life
of the sisterhood; if I wvas happy; what were the duties; whether I thought the writer competent to perform them; and expressing a desire to enter a religious house, the Superior put certain questions to me
respecting this young lady. She asked me if her father and mother were living, how many children they
had, if they were wealthy, if she was accomplished and
pretty, etc. These interrogatories being answered to
her satisfaction, she directed me to sit down and write
in reply, "Come and see."  " Tell her," she added,
"that I invite her to visit the institution; say that
you are happy and contented;" in short, she dictated
a letter which I wrote, and handed to her on the spot.
158
ANOTHER, VICTIM. 
ANOTHER  VICTTIll.
Three or four weeks elapsed, and I was again sent
for to come to the Superior's room. I observed on
entering that there was a lady present; but, not being
allowed to raise my eyes to her countenance, could not
distinguish her particularly. The Superior said to me
as I advanced, "Sister, do  you know  this young
lady?"  I raised my eyes, and behold it was my friend.
Very coldly and calmly I replied, "Yes, mother."
UJpon this my friend sprang toward me with outstretched arms.  I drew back, my hands clasped upon my
breast, according to the rules. The Superior meantime
closely watching me, I did not allow my friend to touch
me, but looked at her calmly, as though it were no surprise or delight for me to behold her again. In all
this concealment and repression of feeling we were
trained; and they who best perform their part, and
exhibit least emotion, are most highly commended,
while such as are unable to govern the natural out bursts of affection are required to do penance.
My friend, evidently grieved and wounded at this
cold reception, after a short pause, asked me how I
liked the religious life, and whether I was happy.
The Superior, too, put similar questions; to all of
which I dared make no other reply than that I was
delighted with the mode of life; that the duties were
easy, and such as she could readily perform; and that
I was perfectly happy. After this the Superior told
me to leave, and I accordingly retired to my duties.
The next day, at recreation-hour, I was permitted
to go and see my friend, accompanied by an elder sis ter, and I then learned the state of her mind.  Sho
was in raptures with the plae:   and after some con
159 
BMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
versation with her, I was sent for by the Superior to
report these expressions of her feelings. After supper
I again saw her, and we had another conversation in
company with an elder sister; and, as I had been instrueted, I endeavored to increase her interest in the
institution.
On the following day she went into a "religious retreat." Two days subsequent, while on my way with
the community to chapel, in my place in the rank, or
order of procession, I was sent for by the Lady Superior. Somewhat alarmed, I hurried to her room, and
was ordered to have the dinner of the young lady
taken to her apartment. I was told to give directions
for a "nice dinner," as, for some reason which I did
not learn, the young lady had not dined. I waited
on her at table, and, though she pressed me to partake,
I durst not do so, as it is against the rules to eat with
a person of "the world."  There was, besides, an officer sitting in the apartment adjoining, with the door
partly open: this door had a glass sash, and the officer was doubtless placed there for the purpose of watching me. The dinner was not such as we ordinarily
partook of, but of a tempting character, such as we
never saw in the refectory.
Dinner over, I reported to the Superior what had
been said by my friend at the table; among  other remarks, that she "had come prepared to enter the community," which seemed greatly to gratify the Superior; and that "the only tie that now bound her to
the world was her affection for her parents, and par-.
ticularly for her father; but this difficulty she intended to settle by ascertaining from the priest her true
I60( 
ANOTHER VICTIM.
vocation." This news greatly pleased the Lady Superior; and it was arranged that my friend should visit
the priest-the Father Superior-that same afternoon.
I was appointed to accompany her to the presence of
the father, who was duly informed of this conversation; and when she made her appearance in his room,
he seemed delighted to see her. Hle took her hand as
I passed, and said, pointing to me, "You see we never
shake hands with a sister."
I staid a few moments in the room, until, at a signal from the priest, I left, having first obtained his
blessing. I went to the novitiate, and there watched
the door leading to the priest's room to see my friend
come out. I did so, not by order from the Superior,
but from my own anxiety to know whether, after this
interview, she would still remain determined to enter
the house, and with but a faint hope that she might
not be prevailed upon to do so. From that interview,
however, she went directly to her own room. During
recreation after supper, I was sent to visit her with an
elder sister, being directed to conduct her over the
beautiful grounds of the Superior to a fine grove of
trees, in the midst of which there is a mound covered
with shrubbery. UIpon this mound stands a very
large cross, surrounded by symbols of the passion the serpent, the ladder, the hammer, the sponge, the
spear, the crown of thorns, the scourge, etc. This
last was painted to represent blood upon it. At the
foot of the cross there was a statue of the Virgin Mary,
upon which the sisters, when permitted to walk over
the grounds, sometimes put wreaths of flowers, and be  fore which they make their orisons. The stillness and
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
seclusion of the spot, the perfume of flowers, the balmy
atmosphere, the solemn and holy calm, gave to this
place the charm of an earthly paradise. It is called
"Our Lady of the Fields;" and hither the priests frequently resort to sit in quiet, decorating the statue, or
emnploying themselves as they please.
On the next evening I was again called to the Lady
Superior's room. AIy friend was there, clothed in a
black dress, with the officers of the institution standing around her. The Superior commanded me to lead
her to the novitiate and introduce her to the mistress
of novices, whom she had not yet seen. It is usually
the duty of an officer to take a postulant into the novitiate, but an exception was made in this instance.
lMly friend was much agitated.   I left her with the
mistress of novices, to whom I communicated my er
rand.
Her first duties were in the refectory. Often have
I seen her carrying plates and other crockery on a large
"roiunid"-a circular piece of wood with a handle-to
and from the basement-room below. Once I saw her
crying with the great exertion required in this duty,
and the pain it occasioned her.
After this I frequently saw her in tears, and sometimes going in that condition to the Father Superior's
room. I noticed that she looked delicate, and wonderfully changed in appearance. She used to be called
upon to read aloud on' successive days, for a week at a
time, during dinner and supper, out of the Lives of the
Saints, the Roman Martyrology, and other books-a
duty which the mistress of novices, who never enter-'
tained any special regard for me, desired me to per
162 
ANOTHER VICTIM.
form, but the Superior would not indulge her in this
wish. At other times, and in addition to this duty,
she was obliged to wait upon the table. Once she
was sent to the infirmary in consequence of a cold
taken from sleeping in the dormitory without sufficient
covering in winter, and  hllen I left she was again
there.
163 
IMISS BUNKILEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXI.
TOKENS OF SISTERLY REGARD.
IT will be readily imagined that the unnatural state
of things prevailing under the conventual system is
calculated rather to promote than prevent the rising
of those petty jealousies and dislikes which must be
incidental to such an association.  Without the strong
ties of kindred or friendship to bind them one to another, it is not likely that the poor prisoners of a convent will spend in perfect harmony the tedious hours
and years of their compulsory seclusion. A single incident may let the reader into the realities of that relationship which Rome pretends to constitute among the
unhappy inmates of a nunnery, and which she designates by the deceptive name of "sisterhood."
Having been sent one evening to work in the boarders' refectory, instead of that of the sisterhood, while
standing near one of the tables at which thle boarders
were seated, I took up a basket and carried it to the
scullery for some bread.   Scarcely had I entered the
room and handed the basket to the sister who had
charge of the department, when I felt myself seized
by the arm, and, looking round, saw the angry countenance of the sister who presided at the boarders' table.
She asked me, in a passionate tone, by whose authority
164 
TOKENS OF SISTERLY REGARD.
I had taken that basket for bread, and whether I had
been appointed waiter by the Superior. I answered
110o, and that I would not have taken the basket had
she not ordered me, the night before, to do so when she
had said that bread was wanting upon the table.
The sister told me that I had no authority of the
kind, and that she would report me to the Superior,
and have me brought before "the council."  I replied
that I was not conscious of having done wrong; but
she followed me into the porch, talking in a loud and
angry tone.  I dreaded the "sacred council," and went
at once to the novitiate, and told the mistress of novices what had just occurred.   She answered me that I
had "many a cross to bear."
That evening, while on the way to my cell, I noticed in one of the cloisters a sister leaning against
the wall. She beckoned me to her, and then made a
motion for me to follow her.  I soon found it was the
sister who had ill-treated me in the refectory. I be came alarmed, as she was leading me to a balcony be yond the cells. I whispered that I must go to my
cell-that I would be missed. By this time we had
reached the balcony.  She insisted that I should wait,
closing, at the same time, the door after us.  Just
then, hearing a noise near by, as if some one was
crossing the porch to the infirmary, we walked on a
few steps to escape observation. The sister then fell
on her knees, asking my forgiveness for having abused
me, and begging me not to speak of what had occurred
should I have an interview with the Superior priest.
I would here state that, in those interviews, a sister is
questioned as to any difficulties she may have had
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with others in the community. I promised secresy,
and went to my cell.
Wearied and exhausted with my duties in the academy, besides my evening work, an irresistible oppression of soul weighing down my powers of mind and
body, I tried in vain to sleep. I thought of my ill
health, caused by the laborious exercises I had to perform, and the stuferings and sorrows I had undergone
since my reception in the community. I looked out
upon the future: it appeared to stretch before me, even
into eternity, a drear path on which no beam of sunlight would fall to cheer, and in which no voice of kindred love would breathe its music of consolation to my
heart. I sighed for my home. In desolation of spirit,
I mourned for its remembered love. But the fearful
consciousness came to me that I was severed eternally from all that made life dear. At length I arose,
dressed, and groped my way along the cloister leading
to the choir, and from thence down the narrow flight
of stairs into the chapel. It was dark, save for the few
rays that streamed from the solitary light which burned
dimly in the sanctuary. Kneeling before the altar, I
fastened my eyes upon the crucifix above it. Long
and earnestly I gazed, but the feelings that filled my
soul were too deep to find repose in the contemplation
of any material object. I bowed my head upon the
railing, and wept. Ere long, the image of I-Ih who had
suffered arose to my view; the pure and holy Savior
of the world, whose mild, benignant eyes, in their pitying tenderness, penetrated to the depths of my wretched heart, and shed a blessed hope upon its gloom.
I prayed-prayed earnestly, and from the heart; my 
TOKENS OF SISTERLY REGARD.
desires flowed from its inmost depths. With streaming eyes and unutterable groans, I asked Him, the Savior of the world, to deliver me from this prison, this den
of cruelty and hypocrisy. I believe it to be the only
time I prayed from my heart while in the institution.
With this outburst of emotion, this pouring forth of
my grief to God in spirit and in truth, I found relief,
and became composed and calm.
I know not how long I had been keeeling, when I
was startled by deep-drawn sighs and sobs, proceeding from the direction of the "seven dolors" altar,*
which is at one side of the chapel door, under the
choir. Fearing observation, I arose, and hastening
down one side of the chapel, reached the stairs leading
to the choir. As I entered the choir, I saw a dark
figure glide past me, and go into a small passage behind the organ. Probably this person was in search
of the poor heart-broken creature whom I had left
weeping so bitterly at the foot of the "seven dolors"
altar. Fortunately I escaped notice, and, softly closing the door behind me, reached my cell just before
the bell rang for morning prayers in the chapel.
* An altar, that is, dedicated to the "seven sorrows" of the Virgin
Mary —" septem dolores."
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CHIIAPTER XXXII.
CRUELTIES INFLICTED.
So far as my own observation and experience can
attest, nothing is more mistaken than the notion which
has led so many to the cloisters, namely, that the holy
and religious life of the nun, or, as at St. Joseph's, of
the Sister of Charity, delivers her from the liability
to fall into the grosser passions of the world, such as
envy, malice, hatred, jealousy, anger, passionate love,
etc. These evil susceptibilities of human frailty exist
in their fullest perfection and development among the
inmates of the convent.
The even rule of justice is not more rigorously carried out there than among men in general, nor do the
heavenly dictates of pure charity always animate and
control the Superiors of that "house of charity," but
partiality, favoritism, prejudice, and cruelty exhibit
their baleful influence throughout the community. Of
this, if it were necessary, numerous instances might be
recounted-acts so oppressive and severe that I verily
believe they were performed with the purpose of destroying the health, as well as of cowing the spirit.
If in this suspicion I do wrong to the perpetrators of
those acts, God, who alone reads the heart, and knows
what my sufferings have been, will, I trust, forgive me.
168 
CRUELTIES INFLICTED.
It would be natural to expect that a system of favoritism would extensively prevail within the walls of
such an institution, not only as regards the Mother
Superior, who dispenses her indulgence and partiality
among those upon whom she can rely, or whom she
wishes to attach to herself, but also with respect to
the priests and certain members of the community.
Jealousy also exerts a potent sway throughout the
sisterhood.  It is no rare thing to witness the features
of a beautiful girl convulsed and distorted with passion
when she passes a rival, who exults for a season in the
triumph she has achieved, but who, poor deluded victim! soon is brought to experience like sensations of
anger and thirst for revenge upon her own desertion for
more attractive objects of priestly favor and desire.
Here I shall mention occurrences as they come up
to my remembrance, with a view to illustrate the power and disposition of those who exercise authority in
the institution to annoy and oppress such individuals
as may have displeased them.
The intensity of these passions can be only augmiented by the necessity of keeping them pent up and
disguised from perception and discovery, or by their
uncontrolled violence among those whose rank elevates
them above the need of disguise. When occasionally
permitted to manifest themselves at a fitting opportunity, they burst forth in redoubled vehemence. I myself have frequently been made the subject of these
exhibitions. Regarded from the outset with jealousy
as "the pe Josephine," I was visited with every annoyance that could be devised by certain individuals'
in the community. At one time, on the pretense that
H
169 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK,
I had knelt and kissed the floor too near the door in
the novitiate, I was reported by a sister to the mistress
of novices, who made me do penance by kneeling before the altar until permission should be given me to
leave, and I was kept in that painful posture nearly
three hours.  Another time, as I was passing by the
side of another sister through a doorway, she thrust
me violently against the jamb, pressing with her whole
strength upon me, and with such force as to break my
beads to pieces, the crucifix and other pieces falling to
the floor, scattered in every direction.  In a third instance, I found myself watched and persecuted without intermission by a sister who had charge of the
sewing. She would consequently assign to me the
worst and most difficult work she could find, telling
me to perform it in a certain way; then, when done,
she would say it was wrong, and order me to pick it
out and do it over in some other way. This accomplished, she would finally report me for doing it improperly, and tell falsehoods to substantiate the accusation.
One morning, a slip of paper, containing the names
of those who had been called upon to make the "repetition" of their meditations, was found upon the table,
torn across the middle. A sister came to nme and said,
"You tore that piece of paper; you had no right to
do so; I will report you." I denied the charge, knowing nothing of the deed, and not having been near the
table. She insisted on criminating me, and reported
me accordingly.
Going up stairs one evening to my cell, I discover- 
ed something like a heap of clothes lying on one of the
170 
CRUELTIES INFLICTED.
broad steps; I heard, also, moans and lamentations.
There was but one lamp burning very dimly in the
cloister, and putting out my foot to ascertain what the
object before me was, I discovered it to be sister J.
P, of sloe memory.   Giving her no very gentle
kick by way of retaliation, I passed on to my cell.
She was indeed ill, as I afterward learned, and needed
commiseration; but the feeling was one which had not
obtained much cultivation in my breast since entering
the institution, where it was very seldom exercised by
others.
About a quarter after nine o'clock one very cold
evening, the mistress of novices came to me in a state
of unusual excitement, and said, "Sister Josephine, I
want you to go to the chapel, and see if all the doors
are closed, and if every thing is right there, and if
nothing is missing about the altar." To do this, I
would have to grope my way through a dark passage
in the basement to the stairs leading up to the chapel.
Somewhat terrified at the thought of performing this
errand alone, I obeyed nevertheless. On reaching the
lobby that led into the church, I found the inner door
open. I walked slowly to the door, and looked into
the church, when I heard a noise like the sullen growl
of a dog, and a rattling as of a chain; and by the dim
light of the lamp before the altar, I saw a dark form
before the altar of the "seven dolors."  I ventured to
approach, and found it was a member of the community; who, I knew not then, nor have I since learned;
but it was one whom I have seen at other times. She
was old and decrepit, and nearly blind, and used too
go, about that hour of the night, to pray in the chapel
171 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
and say her rosary. She always carried her books
with her, wrapped in a yellow pocket-handkerchief,
though she could not see to read.
Not observing any thing else of an unusual character in the chapel, I turned to go out, groping my way
back.   I closed the door after me, and reached the
brick corridor. When near the statue of St.Vincent,
by a light in the novitiate I could see the mistress of
novices coming out of that room, and approaching the
spot where I stood.  Though I saw her, she could not
see me.  At once I determined to frighten her, in return for sending me upon that errand. She was walking very lightly, as though in fear of something. I
stationed myself on one side of the statue, and, as she
drew near me, rushed out against her, and crowded
her against the stone wall on the outer side.  She uttered a cry of terror, and I fled rapidly down the corridor, and thence to my cell.
Although the mistress of novices seemed to entertain an aversion for me, yet the 31other Superior treated me at times in a very different manner, showing me
marked favor, and this may have instigated the hatred
manifested toward me by the former.
I was several times sent for by the Lady Superior
to accompany her as a companion in her drives. On
these occasions she had an attendant in the carriage
and a colored driver on the box. Once or twice we
passed through the town of Emmettsburg, but I was
not privileged to look out of the carriage, which was a
close one, and was directed to keep my eyes cast down.
The impossibility of an escape at such times will be'
apparent.  The town of Emmettsburg is chiefly Ro
172 
CRUELTIES INFLICTED.
man Catholic; many of its inhabitants are dependent
on the institution for support. The Lady Superior is
a great favorite among them.   She did not stop any
where to make visits on these occasions. An attempt
to leave the carriage would not only have proved useless at the time, but would have subjected me to severe punishment, and exposed me to closer confinement.  We wore, in driving out, the habit usually
worn by the community. My place was at the Superior's side on the back seat, the front seat being occupied by the other sister or attendant accompanying us.
We entered the carriage from the Superior's room,
near which it had been driven up to an inner gate
situated in a wall between two buildings; through
this gate we passed into the carriage, and there we
left it on our return. I was never permitted to leave
the Superior's side during this time.
For these marks of favor bestowed by the Lady
Superior I have noticed that the jealousy of some was
awakened, as also when a medal of the Virgin Mary,
called the "medal of the immaculate conception," was
presented to me by a priest. This medal was placedl
upon my beads, and thus worn in sight; and the sisters would say, as I passed them, "The Superior's
pet; the priests' pet; I know where that came from,"
etc. They would take hold of the medal and examine the inscription, which read as follows, in French:
"0 Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us, who have
recourse to thee."
This medal, I may state, was the second of the kind
presented in the institution. It was made, I think, of
gilded brass. The first one was given to a novice
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
who had been converted to the Catholic persuasion,
and was older than myself in that faith. Many of the
sisters showed evident signs of jealousy toward her,
which I observed the more, perhaps, from being on
the alert when placed in the same category, and made
the object of similar remarks, looks, and actions, small
in themselves, but indicative of spiteful feeling.
Several of the vowed sisters wear a medal of St.
Dominic, the virtues of which are said to shield the
wearer from sickness, peril, and other injuries. It is
worn as a charm to secure this protection. The inscription is in four letters, with a cross, the meaning
of which I did not know, nor did any of the sisters
within my knowledge. These medals were given by
the Superior as tokens of regard.
174 
TRIAL OF MY VOCATION.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
TRIAL OF MY VOCATION.
IT was about two months previous to my escape
from the institution, when, entering the corridor one
day on my way to the chapel, I observed a spy who
had been placed there to watch those who were going
thither. As I approached, she rushed toward me, and
pinching me by the arm, she said, hissing through her
closed teeth, "Didn't you hear the bell?"  Though it
was silence-hour, I answered her, "Yes, I heard the
bell." This offense was reported, and I was punished
for it. I supposed the sister to be jealous of me, but
for what cause I knew not.
At another time-it was on Sunday, at the close
of the silence-hour, and the bell was ringing for vespers-an act of cruelty was perpetrated toward me,
which likewise I have been unable to account for.
The sisters had formed the rank to proceed to chapel,
and I was in the rear. The mistress of novices came
forward, and struck me upon the forehead with her
clenched fist. I looked with amazement into her face,
but durst not speak, as it was a season of strict silence. She bade me keep my eyes down, at the same
time repeating the blow; then catching hold of the
ends of my black silk "capot," which were tied loose
175
6
Ie 
IIMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ly under my chin, she drew them so tightly around
my throat as for a moment to deprive me of breath.
1 struggled to get free, but recent illness had rendered
ime very weak. I then fell on my knees before her,
and uttered a loud scream, for I began to fear she
would take my life. There was no one to help me.
The last novice who had passed through the door, in
the rank, did not dare to turn and see what had occasioned the scream.
W'Vhen I could speak I begged her to spare my life,
and asked what I had done to merit such treatment.
She answered not a word, but dragged me across the
novitiate to the passage beyond, loosening and drawing alternately the ends of my " capot." As soon as
she released her grasp I arose, but was forced to cling
to the railing of the stairs for support.
She then said to me, "I did not tAink you wo?uld
take it so well." I begged her again to tell me what
I had done, but she did not reply. I told her that I
would go to the priest's room, and see the Superior
about it; when she rushed toward me again, and talking me by the arm, shook me violently, saying, "Go
if you dare, andcl I will follow you." She then ordered me to the chapel, where all the community had by
this time assembled for prayers.
Trembling and weeping, I obeyed; and after service I spoke to the BIother Superior, but could obtain
no satisfaction from her. Shortly after, I saw the Superior, and told him my trouble. Patting me on the
head, he said, "I must not mind it; it was only a
trial of my vocationsa trial sent from God; I should
like the life after a while;" and thus, while he endeav
176 
TRIAL OF MY VOCATION.
ored to soothe my wounded feelings, he justified the
act.
I have said that I had reason fromn the first to regard myself as an object of peculiar hatred on the part
of the mistress of novices, and I may here remark that
she was of foreign birth, very astute in her perceptions,
keen, shrewd, and penetrating, and had doubtless discerned, or thought she discerned, in my character a
trait of firmness amounting to obstinacy, which would
develop itself whenever I should be convinced of the
duplicity practiced in that institution, and therefore I
would never be a reliable "Sister of Charity."
The Lady Superior, a perfect lady in her deportment, and possessed of a powerful intellect and a profound knowledge of the human heart, mild, bland, and,
withal, very discriminating, I have reason to believe
had not so read my character, but persuaded herself
that I would yet become a willing and perfectly obedient "daughter of St.Vincent."
1H2
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
I WAS ordered one day by an officer of the institution to scrub some stains from the floor of the porch,
where grease had been accidentally spilled by a sister.
The day was intensely cold, and at first I was inclined to refuse; but the order being reiterated in an
authoritative tone, I dared not do so. Frequently
have I seen the blood oozing from the chapped hands
of those engaged in laborious duties under similar circumstances.
It was in consequence of such a want of "humility'?* on my part that the mistress of novices once remarked to me she wished I had been in the community during the life of Sister Daserai, who had died a
short time before my entrance, and whose grave was
yet fresh in the cemetery. This person was a native
of France, the daughter of a marquis, and is said to
have been very beautiful, of a noble and commanding
appearance. She was dressed, on her arrival, in black,
having been but a short time a widow. Though per  * How strikingly is this false sentiment rebuked in those prophetic
words of the apostle, where he condemns those things "which have
indeed a show of wisdom in will-worship, and humility, and neglecting
of the body; not in any honor, to the satisfying of the flesh. "-Col.,
ii., 23.
178
HIUMILITY. 
HUMILITY.
suaded to enter St. Joseph's, she would not at first
comply with the rules of the community, which were
not strictly enforced by the officers in her case, owing
to the high station she had occupied in society, and
her great wealth.  She could not bear the idea of
drinking out of a tin cup, or of washing her hands in
a tin basin, and positively refused to do so. HIer
arms, from unaccustomed exposure, having become
rough, she would often endeavor to hide them with
her hands and sleeves.
The Superior, seeing that this sister lacked "humility," determined to set about humbling her pride.
She was assigned the most laborious work in the house.
In exchange for the silk dress she wore on entering,
a coarse, patched habit was given her. Soon, finding
that her will was held in subjection, and that she must
renounce it entirely, she became convinced "that A1'mighty God would be pleasedcl with her spirit of humility," and no longer refused to comply with the wishes
of her superiors.
Her duties were increased daily, and were performed
to a greater extent even than required. She would
scrub the floor until the blood streamed from her
hands, and would say to a sister who chanced to be
passing by, "See the blood streaming from my hands
-it is all for our Lord." Her mind was in such a
state that she believed every untoward event to hap pen by the will of God.   Should a fly alight on the
bread, or the molasses, or the soup she was eating,
she would not brush it away, but would eat it, because
she thought such to be God's will.  While at her di ties she was constantly saying her prayers, making
179 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
aspirations, fasting, etc.   " She lost her health," said
the mistress of novices to me, "because the Lord
loved her, and wished to take her to himself."
Often would she rise at midnight to pray, and pass
the entire night at her devotions.  If a member of the
community spoke to her, she would utter no reply.
When taken ill and sent to the infirmary, she refused
to take the medicine given her, and requested to be
put on duty there. Work was assigned her, which
was faithfully performed, as the mistress of novices
said, "in a spirit of mortification and penance."
Soon after entering the infirmary, on account of the
heavy work she performed, as well as the prayers and
penances she continued to observe, she was compelled,
in an almost dying condition, to take to her bed.
There, however, she would not recline upon her pillow, but, supported in a sitting posture, would pass
her time in sewing and knitting, until she became too
weak to hold the needles in her tremulous and almost
transparent hands.
Here, as the mistress of novices narrated these facts
to me, I remarked, "She must have had the consumption, mother."
"Yes, my child," replied she, in her blandest tones,
and gazing into my face; "'tis a part of our vocation."
During her illness in the infirmary she would often
decline taking any nourishment, and when she consented to do so, she ate the food with a number of
flies that had alighted upon it. "This she did for
mortification," said my informant. She would lie
awake all night, making such aspirations as these:*
" Sweet Jesus! Holy Mother! Holy St. Joseph! pray
180 
HUMILITY.
for me." "I wish you could have seen her," said the
mistress of novices, "when she died.  Her large black
eyes were fixed upon the crucifix, and she requested
us to light the candles upon the table at the foot of
her bed, on which the crucifix stood. 0 sister! she
was a living saint, and at her death was admitted at
once into the presence of our Lord and blessed 3lother; she melted away like a print of butter!"
Such was the example I was desired to imitate.
18-1 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXV.
SELF-MORTIFI CATION.
THE foregoing narrative will serve to exemplify the
nature of the subjects to which our contemplations in
the community were habitually drawn as worthy to
be admired and followed. I may now mention some
few of the historical models whose characters we were
accustomed to study with peculiar veneration.
The life of St. Theresa, founder of the Order of reformed Carmelites, was often rehearsed for our special
edification. She was a Carmelite nun, a native of
Spain, and undertook to revive the former austerities
of the community to which she belonged. Her history, written in French, was in the library, and was
frequently read. This order is the most strict of all
except the Trappist. There is but one Carmelite nunnery in this country-that, namely, which is located
in Aisquith Street, Baltimore. I have already given
some account of its severe discipline.
A favorite theme of narration at St. Joseph's was
the life of the Princess Louise, daughter of Louis XIV.
of France, who became a Carmelite nun in her father's
palace.
By the aid of a maid-servant and a nun who were
in her confidence, she made her profession, and hav
182 
SELF-MORTIFICATION.
ming procured the tunic worn by the sisters, she wore
it in order to accustom herself to its use. After this
she obtained the hair shirt, and wore it also under her
princely robes, without the knowledge of her royal
parent. She had an utter dislike to the odor of tallow; but, as the Carmelites use tallow candles, she
caused her servant to procure some, and every night
would burn one-at first for a short time, as the smell
sickened her; and thus she accustomed herself to it.
In a very small room near her own she had placed an
iron bedstead, with a hard mattress, and, before retiring to her own apartment, she would recline for a
while on this Carmelite bed, until so used to it that
she could there pass the whole night. Thus it was
that she practiced mortification of the flesh.  She afterward entered the nunnery, and it is related that on
one occasion she was sent to scour the pots and kettles in the kitchen.  She was robed in a brocade, "conleur de rose," and this dress has been preserved, to
show that even a princess could perform menial offices.
Not knowing how to do such work, she ignorantly
cleaned the outside of the vessel; but, when told that
it was the inside that should be cleaned, she cheerfully
scoured that also.
These instances of humility on the part of a princess were held up for our instruction; and my own
feelings, in view of such relations, were at times deeply exercised, as I was urged to emulate this spirit of
so-called humility and mortification of the flesh.
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
INSANITY AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
SISTER JOHN PATIENTIA, as she was called, was a
person considerably past the period of youth, and
somewhat faded in aspect, but still retaining the traces
of extraordinary beauty. She would often break the
rules of the institution, but would receive no punishment for the offense. She would sometimes speak in
time of silence, and try to make the novices laugh.
Entering the novitiate with a mischievous glance
around her, she would utter some humorous remark,
provoking almost irresistible mirth.
If, as the wise man says, there be "a time to laugh,"
it is assuredly not during any portion of a novice's life.
The rules forbid any approach to merriment; a serious face is continually to be worn, and any thing like
levity would be severely punished.
This alone, it might be supposed, would of itself
impair the health of an individual endowed by nature
with a lively and cheerful disposition. But, as I am
not qualified to judge of this effect, I simply state the
fact, and leave physiologists to determine.
Sister Patientia was very talented and highly educated. She spoke several languages fluently, and had'
formerly been a teacher in the academy. Her duties
184 
INSANITY AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
at present were to attend to the corridor, or outer
gallery; sweeping the brick floor, brushing the windows, and removing the dust from the leaves of the
plants; scrubbing the platform and steps, and washing the windows. It was her duty also to ring the
great bell of the cloisters for the devotions of the community.  This is the sister who had charge of the shoeroom, and of whom I have elsewhere spoken.
Sometimes, as the sisters were passing her in the
corridor, she would rest her chin on her broom, look
facetiously at them, making faces, and stationing herself in their way to obstruct their progress.   She did
not take her meals with the community, but breakfasted at about ten, and dined at four. Her portion
would be placed upon the corner of the table, near the
door. She would remove the plate that covered it,
and then perform her devotions before the crucifix in
a manner calculated to excite merriment, making the
sign of the cross with a rapid jerk. Then, looking
significantly upon her food, she would go away and
leave it untouched; or, perhaps, taking a mouthful,
make a grimace, mutter to herself, and walk hastily
away through the corridor. I seized an opportunity
one day to ask her why she did not take her meals
more regularly. She replied, "One should take more
care of the soul than of the body;" and her tone and
manner were so ludicrous that I could not help laughing.
Sometimes, on meeting the Superior in the corridor,
she would kneel down, and kiss the hem of her habit
with an air of the most devout worship. One day
she took me with her to her cell, and commenced to
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
give me a short history of her early life; of the wealth
of her family; how she entered the institution, leaving
home without her parents' knowledge or consent; how
she came to this country, etc. Fearing lest I should
overstay my time, I attempted to leave.   "Wait a
little," she replied, "till I tell you how much I have
suffered and am suffering now." Pointing to her bed,
she said, "I have not rested on that bed for years,
but am forced to remain in a sitting posture all night,
on account of a large ulcer on my side, and a difficulty
in breathing that will not suffer me to lie down."
There was another sister in the house who was also
said to be insane, yet was allowed to go about the
house, and to attend mass and confession. I remember meeting her once on the corridor, when she came
rushing toward me, and, shaking her clenched fist,
shrieked, " Novice! get out of my way!"  I jumped
over an oleander box to avoid her, in great alarm.
The reader will not be surprised to hear that there
are insane inmates of these institutions.  There is an
apartment for the insane which I have never entered.
I have occasionally seen insane persons come rushing
out of a door at the foot of a stairway leading to that
apartment, muttering and talking wildly. The unnatural life they lead is, perhaps, the life of all others
most calculated to produce such effects.
Infirmity of body and insanity of mind I consider
the natural results of convent life..
186 
ORDER OF " SISTERS OF CHARITY."'
CHAPTER XXXVII.
ORDER OF " SISTERS OF CHIARITY."
THE institution of St. Joseph's is not one of those
establishments denominated " close convents," in
which the nuns, having once assumed the veil, are
perpetually immured. Its ostensible purpose is the
education and training of its inmates for deeds of charity and mercy. These persons, having received the
requisite instruction and discipline, are, when they can
be trusted, dispatched to various stations, with the object of exercising their functions and of attracting notice to the order to which they belong. They constitute a striking feature in the Roman Catholic Church,
and offer a continual and living text of laudation to
the priests, who  point to them  and to their "labors
of love" as beneficent fruits and appropriate illustrations of the holy character of their religion.* There
* In so far as this order claims to be a voluntary association of
women for charitable purposes, under the title of Sisters of Charity, it
is no original creation of the Roman Catholic Church, but has actually
been borrowed from Protestantism.  Among the Waldenses, the "Bohemian Brothers," and the Moravians, there is a record of the existence of "deaconesses," as they were termed in the primitive age, as
early as 1457; but it was in the sixteenth century that Robert von
der Mark, Prince of Sedan in the Netherlands, founded the institution
of Protestant "Demoiselles de Chariti," as he called them. and to this
institution he granted the revenues of suppressed monasteries. The
187 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
are forty-one mission-houses attached to the order
in the United States, numbering about five hundred
office so founded received a formal ecclesiastical recognition in 1568,
from the General Synod of the Reformed Church of the Lower Rhine
and the Netherlands. It was not until 1633, or sixty-five years later,
that Vincent de Paul established his order of Sisters of Charity. There
are now institutions bearing the title of houses of Protestant Sisters
of Charity, or Deaconesses, at Paris, Strasburg, Echallens, Berlin,
Utrecht, Stockholm, and Kaiserwerth. There is also one at Pittsburg
in our own country. Acting as nurses to the sick, teachers of reformatory schools, guardians of females released from prison, visitors of
the poor, and in other spheres of usefulness, these excellent women
are bound by no vow or obligation of obedience, but serve God with
the freedom and voluntary earnestness of intelligent Christians. They
number now many hundreds, of whom several are engaged at the
present moment in caring for the wounded and dying of the allied
armies before Sebastopol.   The institution of Kaiserwerth, on the
Rhine, under the direction of the Reverend Pastor Fliedner and his
excellent wife, has sent forth no fewer than one hundred and eighty
of these deaconesses to different parts of the world. Its hospital contains one hundred and twenty patients, its training institution for
deaconesses seventy-seven probationers; the entire household, with
orphan asylum, infant school, etc., numbering three hundred and
ninety inmates. But while we cite these facts to show that the idea
of such charitable enterprises is not peculiar to Romanism, we would
not lay any great stress upon such developments of Christian charity,
remembering that the glory of our Protestantism resides not in a multitude of formal organizations for the professed relief of human miseries,
but consists rather in those numberless, quiet, and unobtrusive channels
of individual beneficence which in Protestant countries now, as in the
primitive days of Christianity, carry material succor and spiritual consolation to the abodes of the destitute and friendless. And while,
thanks to the healthful tendencies of a pure religion, which elevates
the masses in mental capacity, and social comfort, and political wellbeing, there is far from the same amount of physical distress to call
for alleviation in Protestant lands as in those where Romnanism has
combined with civil despotism for ages past to crush the intellect and
degrade the life of the masses, we do not covet, in any sense, tl
help of these conventual systems and establishments, which undertake, by a mechanism controlling individual wills under a stern law of
188 
ORDER OF "SISTERS OF CHARITY."
members, including those at the central institution.
These are scattered in various cities and towns of the
country. WNhere there are but two sisters in a city
or town, they have their mission-house, their chapel,
and their separate confessional, at which the priest
on the station is always a frequent visitor. When
their services are not too constantly in requisition,
they generally open a school, at which the children of
the poor are taught free of charge, and by which means
many proselytes are won to the Roman Catholic faith.
These communities are all under the control of the
Superior of St. Joseph's, which is the "mother-house,"
as it is styled, in this country.   But this motherhouse is connected with the house in Paris, which
is the centre of the whole order throughout the world,
comprising some five hundred and fifty-three establishments, with nearly nine thousand members. This
is according to the best statistics I can obtain; but in
the institution of St. Joseph's I was informed there
was a much larger number.
The fact that sisters are sent from the mother-house
to the different towns and cities throughout the country to exercise their vocation as nurses for the sick,
has been enlarged upon to refute and ridicule the idea
of any restraint or coercion to prevent members from
leaving the institution; but this assertion must be received with a considerable degree of allowance. It
should be recollected that the sisters who are thus sent
abroad go forth to establish new communities (" mis
obedience to authority, the performance of those offices of mercy,
which, to be truly Christian, must be the dictates of a free and cheerful piety
189 
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sions" they are called) subordinate to the principal one,
where the same rules are observed as at head-quarters.
On these missions only the trustworthy-those, namely, upon whom the Superior can implicitly rely-are
sent. But a little reflection will convince the reader
that, even if so disposed, it would be a difficult thing
for a sister to escape from her bonds. A constant supervision is kept by the priest and the sister-servant
on the station, who would instantly report any refractory symptoms, and she would be recalled.   In a
strange place, too, far from her friends, it would require
a strong resolution to desert her charge, and appeal to
the public, especially when she knows that the entire
Catholic population would combine to discredit her
statement and destroy her character. Few would dare
to contend with such considerations as these. By far
the greater number would prefer to endure evils with
which they were familiar rather than encounter unknown trials in a new position.
The number of inmates at St. Joseph's, including
postulants, seminary sisters or novices, and professed
sisters, is about one hundred and forty-often more, but
seldom less. This number, of course, does not comprehend the boarders in the academy, of whom there are
sometimes as many as one hundred and fifty. From
this mother-house, members are transferred, at the
option of the Superior, to the corresponding institutions in different parts of the United States-even to
California, and also to France. This removal is in order to supply vacancies occasioned by sickness or death
in the subordinate communities, and sometimes to establish communities in places where their existence
190 
ORDER OF " SISTERS OF CHARITY.'
may be deemed politic or necessary, as the means of
increasing the influence of the Church in such localities.
The Sisters of Charity have for years constituted a
theme of enthusiastic praise and commendation, even
on the part of many Protestants. Their purity, their
self-devotion, their self-denial, their courage in exposure
to disease while ministering to the wants of the sick
and dying, in crowded hospitals, whose fetid atmosphere is full of peril, have been lauded to the skies.
Turgid eulogies of their gentleness and beauty, their
tender ministrations, the soft touch of their white
hands, and the sympathetic tear called forth by the
sufferings of their patients, have been so often the subject of newspaper paragr'aphs and sentimentalities of
novels, that public sentiment has been warmly enlisted in their advocacy and defense. But it may be
asked, in all candor, is there any need of the show and
parade with which the good deeds of these sisters are exposed to the views of the world? Are they the only beings who tend the bed of sickness, or assuage the pangs
of disease? Are those only to be regarded as acts of
Christian benevolence which are accomplished by drilled and disciplined cohorts, who, like the soldiers of an
army, resign themselves to the government of a single
will, and mechanically or slavishly obey it? Is this
method so infinitely superior to that of the numerous
Protestant associations throughout the length and
breadth of our land, and the far more numerous individual missionaries of mercy, who not only tend the
sick in the hospitals, but, far more, who search out the
poor, the widow, the fatherless, and let in the light of
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
charity upon their comfortless abodes? who instruct
the ignorant, comfort the desponding, and reclaim the
fallen, and this of their own free, heaven-inspired
choice and uncontrolled purpose, and without regard
to sectarian limits, but rather extending to all, of every name and nation, an equal share of generous relief? The appropriation of all these high-toned panegyrics to a vowed community of Roman Catholics,
whose main design is avowedly to proselyte by means
of their various enterprises of benevolence, reflects an
indirect slander upon the charity of Protestants, as
though their less ostentatious course were actuated by
inferior motives.
I entertained formerly the same extravagant ideas
of the pure and unselfish life of this order, but experience and observation have dispelled the illusion.
The fact is, that the whole system of popery is one of
proselytism, toward the fulfillment of which every instrument is brought to bear; and the Order of "Sisters of Charity" forms not the least efficient part of the
forces employed by Romanism, certainly not the least
influential of the appliances by which the doctrines of
popery are infused into the breasts of the credulous
and unwary.
The community of St. Joseph's is under the direction of two superiors-the "M }other Superior," and a
priest of the Order of St. Lazare. It would be an
anomaly in Romanism for an institution to exist without the participation of the "holy fathers" in its government. The Lazarists have a "house" at Emmettsburg, and pay frequent visits to St. Joseph's to hear
confessions and for other purposes. They are styled
192 
ORDER OF " SISTERS OF CHARITY."
in the community the "sons," as the sisterhood are
the "daughters" of charity, regarding each other as
brethren and sisters of one great family. The two orders are thus nearly allied, and operate in association.
They are governed by the same religious authorities,
the ecclesiastical superior of the one being the director
of the other, and both having the same chief confessor.
They affect a community of interests, and mutually extol each others' merits, and commend the piety, devotedness, and purity of each others' lives. One of these
priests is always at the institution, where he is regarded with the utmost reverence and affection, and his
counsels are appreciated as the commands of Deity.
I
193
_ 
9MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE ACADEMY.
CONNECTED with St. Joseph's there is a school for
the instruction of young ladies, at which the most accomplished and reliable of the sisterhood are teachers.
The academy is a separate building, but attached to
the other edifices by covered porches, and the pupils
have their distinct refectory and sleeping apartments,
which are presided over by sisters appointed for the
purpose, and denominated "angels," as before stated.
This school is managed with consummate dexterity
and ability; so much so, that, with few exceptions,
the scholars become ardently attached to their teachers, and are warm advocates of the interests of the
community. This is no matter for wonder, as they
see only the bright side of the picture, and have not
the most remote conception of the privations, the intrigues, and the horrors within. They behold an assemblage of pious recluses, who have parted with all
the vanities of the world, and are preparing themselves,
by patient and meek self-denial, to assuage the sufferings of their fellow-creatures on earth, and render
themselves meet for heaven. So fair is the light, so
attractive the coloring of this poetic scene, that many,
having passed through their educational course in the
194 
THE ACADEMY.
academy, return to the institution, and enter upon
their novitiate, discovering too late their mistake, and
the terrible reality of the life before them.
Both the Jesuits and the "Sisters of Charity" are
adepts in teaching the young, having reduced the practice, by long experience and study, to a system almost
perfect.  They know especially how to blend strictness and discipline with kindness and indulgence, by
observing the characters and dispositions of those under their charge. The pupils are taught well, according to the capacity of each, that their parents may be
satisfied with their progress and attainments, and may
speak in approving terms of the institution. At the
same time, every exertion is made to win the affections and secure the confidence of the scholars, that
they may stamp their young and impressible minds
with the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and,
if possible, allure them within the pale of the community. Rarely do these attempts prove unsuccessful,
at least in creating a strong prepossession toward
those doctrines; and the ideas implanted at the school
become deep-rooted and fruitful, unless checked in their
growth by the watchful care of parents and friends,
even this proving often unavailing.
At St. Joseph's atll the pupils, or boarders, as they
are called, are required to attend mass once a day,
and to go through all the genuflexions and other forms
usual at that service. They do not, however, witness
those other religious exercises of the community; in
which devotion is made a pretext for the infliction of
torture; they hear nothing of the rigid penances enjoined for the slightest and most unintentional infrac
196 
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tion of the rules; they are ignorant of the unjust favoritism and the flagrant partialities exercised by those
in power. All is fairy-land to them. And should a
charge be made to this effect in the presence of a graduate of the academy, by a sufferer from these practices, she would be denounced, as I have been, as a
fabricator of falsehoods, and a calumniator of the holy
sisterhood.
The extent to which the affections of the boarders
are gained, both by the Lazarist priests attached to
the institution and by the teachers of the academy, including the Mother Superior, is scarcely credible. I
have known instances in which boarders have refused
to go home with their parents; and one in particular,
in which a father visited his daughter at St. Joseph's,
when she manifested the most complete indifference to
his attentions, and even showed repugnance at his caresses, weeping bitterly when told of his intention to
take her home, and angrily desiring to be left, even
when appealed to in the name of her mother. More
than once have I seen, with the blood tingling in my
veins, and the flush of indignation on my cheek, a
young girl of fifteen or sixteen reposing her head on
the breast of a young "Lazarist" as they walked together, his arm thrown over her shoulder. This, no
doubt, was innocent on her part, at least. She regarded him in the light of a father; but what pernicious consequences might ensue from this familiarity!
And was he performing the office of a holy guide?
And yet Protestant parents will send their children
to be educated at Roman Catholic institutions; deluding themselves with the idle and silly notion that no
196 
THE ACADEMY.
effort will be made to indoctrinate them with popish
errors. Are they not aware that this religion is one
of exclusive pretensions, and that, believing all without its pale doomed to sure perdition, its members, if
sincere, are bound to use every effort for the conversion of heretics, and their rescue from destruction?
If ignorant of this, their ignorance is unpardonable,
for it is the result of sheer indifference, or disinclination to inform themselves on the subject; and thus to
hazard the temporal and eternal welfare of their most
precious jewels in slothful disregard of this all-important issue is a crime beyond excuse. The whole paraphernalia of popery, from its enthroned vice-god at
Rome, to its humblest lay-member cringing at the feet
of his priest, is perpetually engaged in the business of
making proselytes: the clergy, to swell the ranks and
augment the influence of their fraternity; and the laity, aside from all other motives, because they believe
that in so doing they are saving souls. Schools and
colleges afford the widest scope and the readiest means
of realizing these ends; and hence the great number
of these institutions that have sprung up of late, in
every section of the land, attached to Jesuitical communities and convents, where the craft of man and the
gentle persuasion of woman unite in bending the ten der character of youth, that the matured tree may de velop in accordance with popish distortion and dis ease.*
* WVhile the influences brought to bear at these institutions upon the
pupils are generally such as to attract their affection, and render them
contented, there are cases in which a sterner course is followed, and'
n such cases the oppression is evidently irremediable.  Coercive
means, as well as those of a persuasive character, can be used, in the
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When will American parents learn wisdom? If
they consider it indispensable that their children be
sent from home for their education, are there not hundreds of Protestant schools, where every branch of
knowledge is taught by intelligent and experienced
teachers; where every elegant accomplishment can be
acquired, and all valuable instruction obtained? At
all events, let not the susceptible mind and heart of a
young girl be intrusted to the charge of Catholic nuns
and their clerical directors. Let not the precious ob
academy as in the sisterhood, to accomplish the work of bending the
will and the faculties to the purposes of Rome. Inquiries have often
been addressed to me with reference to the opportunities of novices
for sending messages to their friends by means of the boarders. All
such modes of communication are precluded by the watchful care of
those in charge.  The directress has the perusal of all letters written
by the boarders or sent to them. Protestant parents should understand that their children are not allowed to correspond with them in anll
unrestrained manner. Small, however, as the chances of any communication with friends may be in the academy, I feel assured that if any
suspicion of my discontent had been entertained, I should not have
been permitted to enter the academy for the purposes of teaching.
I may here mention the case of a child under my instruction at the
academy-a case which I am confident is only one among many:
Josephine Picuabia (such, I think, was the name) had been placed at
St. Joseph's by her parents, who were from Cuba, at a very early age.
She would frequently come to her lessons in tears, and, resting her
head on my bosom, would give vent to her sorrow, after exclaiming,
"Oh, sister, you are the only one that is kind to me!"  She complained
of severe treatment; that she was whipped and beaten, and was in
terror of her life, yet could not inform her parents, as the directress
would not let her write home.
This child first became attached to me more particularly because my
name was the same with her own. I always treated her kindly, and
sympathized deeply with her distress. We were frequently left alone
in our music-room, and I had occasion to hear her grievances as I endeavored to soothe her into composure for her lessons.
198 
THE ACADEMY.
jects of parental solicitude and love-the Cornelian
jewels of American homes-be placed where their lustre will be tarnished and their value lost; when, in
this Protestant land, so many institutions have been
founded where the youthful mind may be properly
trained, and the gem, skillfully polished, may be returned to adorn society and the world.
199 
MIvISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
IT is proper that some explanation be given at this
point with reference to one of the objects of these Ptoman Catholic institutions of learning, as it is one not
generally understood by the Protestant public.
Schools are first opened in connection with a new
enterprise of the Sisters of Charity, at their missionhouses, for the reception of children belonging to the
poorer classes. This course at once establishes the
reputation of the order for benevolence andcl charity,
and serves to ingratiate that part of the population,
who do not fail to speak in terms of eulogy respecting
their amiable and disinterested benefactors. The sis
ters have among them teachers highly competent to
give instruction in all the branches of female education, even for the highest departments. Such teachers can always be procured from the older and wellestablished houses of the community, and that without
cost, save their maintenance merely. Very soon they
add "pay-scholars" to the number of their pupils; and,
as the school becomes better known, the proportion of
such scholars augments, while the number of those
who are taught gratuitously diminishes. At length
there are none at all of the latter class, and then the
200
NUNNERIES AND SCHOOLS. 
NUNNERIES AND SCHOOLS.
institution assumes the character of a select school.
Even though the prices of tuition may not greatly increase, a selection will be made from the more wealthy
families, and such as will best suit the purposes and
designs of the managers. Next it becomes a boarding-school; the prices are advanced; and in the course
of time a more strict discrimination is made in the reception of pupils. The number is more and more
limited, until, a sufficient amount having been realized
from the proceeds of instruction, the object is attained,
and the school is abandoned altogether.
Collections are often made among the scholars to
add to the funds of the institution. At St. Joseph's
this was frequently done for some special purpose, as,
for instance, to beautify the grounds of mission-houses.
At the Visitation Convent in Baltimore, on the corner of Park and Centre Streets, the sisters had formerly a very extensive school, with a large number of
boarders. When I visited that convent prior to my
entrance at St. Joseph's, I was informed that the number of boarders was then limited to sixteen, and that
the school would soon be discontinued. I was also
told that a sufficient amount had been acquired for the
purchase of Mount de Sales, a beautiful and most valuable property, which cost over a million of dollars, and
is now, I learn, the residence of Father Deluol, the
Superior General of the order of Jesuits. The earriage of that institution was to have been sent for me
to visit iIount de Sales in company with a priest, but
I did not remain in Baltimore long enough to avail
myself of the opportunity. At the Carmelite nunnery
there was formerly a school, but not, I believe, a board
12
201 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ing-school, that institution being more strict and private than others.   The school is now given up altogether; so, at least, I was informed at St. Joseph's.
While on the subject of the accumulation of money
in these Roman Catholic convents, I may advert to
the fact that there is at St. Joseph's a treasurer, who
occupies a small apartment adjoining the stationeryroom, and in which she sleeps at night. I have often
been sent to that room, and have there observed an
iron chest, in which I have seen a quantity of gold
coin and jewelry. Many of the statues are decorated
with valuable ornaments, such as diamond-rings, necklaces, gold crosses, etc. These are presents from visitors and other friends. I knew one sister who wrote
to her parents for certain gold and silver articles of
great value, which she designed as presents for one of
the statues of the Virgin Mary.   If the sisters individually are poor, in accordance with their vow of poverty, the community as a whole is wealthy, and the
Superiors exercise entire control over that wealth.
They have also an immense farm connected with the
establishment.
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FOUNDERS OF THE INSTITUTION.
CHAPTER XL.
FOUNDERS OF THE INSTITUTION.
THE " Conferences" have frequently been mentioned in these pages, and in connection with them the
"rules" laid down by the founder of the community.
These rules, which are contained in small books kept
under lock and key, have been handed down from St.
Vincent de Paul, who communicated them to the sisterhood.
A large and finely-executed portrait of this saint,
who was also the founder of the congregation of missions known as the Order of St. Lazare, hangs in the
chapel at St. Joseph's. He is there represented as
holding a foundling in his arms, while at his side a
sister is seen taking another infant out of a basket.
The lives of St.Vincent de Paul and St.Francis de
Sales were frequently given us to read, as well as that
of Mother Seton, who originated the institution at Emmettsburg.  Mrs. Seton had been a Protestant lady,
the daughter of an eminent physician in New York,
and the wife of a merchant of high character, a member of the Protestant Episcopal Church. In 1803 she
accompanied her husband to Italy for the benefit of
his health; he, however, expired shortly after reaching Naples, and she was at once received into the fam
203 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ily of an Italian gentleman who had long been in commercial correspondence with her husband. This gentleman, a zealous Roman Catholic, undertook the conversion of Mrs. Seton to his own faith. His influence
over her mind continued after her return to America,
and in 1805 she joined the Church of Rome, and was
rebaptized in St. Peter's, New York.
Being in a great measure deserted by her relations,
and obliged to resort to teaching for support, Mrs. Seton removed shortly after her conversion to Baltimore,
where she opened a school, with the hope that, in process of time, it might grow into "a society whose
members would be specially consecrated to God"that is to say, into a convent. She was joined by her
sister-in-law, and by a Miss Conway, of Philadelphia;
and soon after this was invited by the priests of Baltimore to commence a "religious" establishment, for
the foundation of which a legacy of eight thousand
dollars had recently been left.
The vicinity of Emmettsburg having been selected
for the location of the projected sisterhood, a piece of
land south of the village was bought. At that time
the only tenement on the farm was a small stone
building, forming part of what is now used as the
wash-house of the institution. It stands at a short
distance from the main edifice, and is called the cradle
of St. Joseph's.
Mlrs. Seton now assumed for herself and those who
joined her the title of" Sisters of St. Joseph," placing
themselves "under the protecting care of St. Joseph,
the faithful guardian of the Son of God upon earth."
In their new residence-a small house containing only
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FOUNDERS OF THE INSTITUTION.
one story and an attic, with two rooms on each floorsixteen persons were soon crowded together. They
were often reduced to the poorest fare, such as "carrot-coffee, salt pork, and buttermilk."  Thus they "labored at the work of their sanctification."   "Consequent upon this style of living to persons mostly
reared ill luxury, the sisterhood was for several months
an infirmary." Aliss Harriet Seton was the first victim. She was shortly followed by her sister Cecilia.
MIrs. Seton's eldest daughter, Anna, soon after sickened and died of consumption.  Her death was probably induced by acts of violent mortification, which the
biographer characterizes as "heroic."   "I half reproached her," said her mother, " for her little care of
her health: rising at the first bell, ever being on the
watch to ring it the moment the clock struck; washing at the pump in the severest weather; often eating
in the refectory what sickened her stomach."
The next who fell under this course of life was a
Miss Murphy.   "On one occasion she was directed to
put her feet in warm water; which the sister infirma rian having brought, she put her feet into it, and imme diately withdrew them, observing that the water was
too hot; but her attendant insisting that it was not
too warm, she returned her feet into the vessel, and
kept them there as long as she was required, although
it caused her intense pain, and produced an inflamma tion, from which she suffered for a long time after."
By such "assiduous practices of the virtues of her
state," we are told, "she soon became ripe for heaven."
In July, 1813, the society was regularly organized,
eighteen individuals taking upon themselves the vows
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
of "poverty, chastity, and obedience."   Meantime,
large additions were made, and continued to be made,
to the buildings and conveniences of the establishment.
The asylum, in which about fifty orphans, as near as
I can judge, are now kept, was the next building erected. It was at first occupied by the community. A
marble tablet in the wall of a room in this building
marks the spot where the bed of Mother Seton stood,
and where she died.
Although at this early period the natural fruits of
the system were produced in the suffering, sickness,
and death of the inmates, carrying out the idea which,
as I have already had occasion to observe, is still inculcated-that "consumption is a part of the vocation
of the sisters"-yet it seems that the system failed
then, as it does now, of producing that superior sanctity of life and character which are perpetually claimed as its result. So much may at least be inferred
from the following extract from an address of Mrs. Seton, who was now called the M3other Superior, to her
sisters in profession:  "How is it," she asks, "that
many of us keep the rule as to the letter of it, and
also look pious enough?  There is no want of good
will, nor idleness indulged; and in a house where it
would seem so easy to become saints, you would say,
What is the matter? Why are we not saints?  Why
is there so little progress in perfection? Or, rather,
why are so many tepid, heavy, discouraged, and going
along AIORE LIKE SLAVES IN A WORK-HOUSE than children in their own homes, and the house of their Fa-.
ther?" The answer would seem easy for any one at
all acquainted with the spirit of Gospel obedience:
206 
FOUNDERS OF THE INSTITUTION.
Because the position, and the relations, and the occupations pertaining to this unnatural mode of life are
such as Heaven has not chosen to ordain and bless for
the religious development and sanctification of human
souls.
One morning, meeting after mass a young sister
who had been absent from the service, Mother Setoii
looked her steadfastly in the face, and asked, "Why
did you not come to our Lord for a recompense this
morning?"  " Mother," answered the sister, "I felt a
little weak, and took a cup of coffee before mass."
"Ah! my dear child!" said 3Mother Seton, "how
could you sell your God for a miserable cup of coffee?" Nothing, it has been well said, weakens the
moral sense more than hair-breadth distinctions and
minute observances. Mother Seton's life for a series
of years was full of these.  She rivaled the Hindoos
in self-mortification.   She would deny herself fine
writing paper, and for pens she used the stumps of
quills abandoned by her pupils.
Another death soon succeeded in the institution: it
was that of the Bother Superior's second daughter, a
lovely girl in her fourteenth year.   In her last mroments she cried to her confessor, "Father, is there any
harm to hope that I shall go to heaven as soon as I
am dead?" He replied, not if that hope was grounded
on her own merits.   "What merits," she cried, "can
such a child as I have?" So little comfort can the
contemplation of our own good works afford in the
dying hour!  Again she exclaimed, "I hope that mysufferings will be accepted as my penance without going to Purgatory.   Oh! 6ow J would like to go to
Ieacie.!/
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MISS BUNKLEY~S BOOK.
In 1816 two more of the sisters died; one, only
twenty-one years of age, brought up in luxury in the
WTest Indies, and whose delicate hands often bled from
exposure during the winter in performing the work allotted to her. The following year witnessed the death
of four more of the sisters, and the next year three
more. How the austerities which hastened the deaths
of so many young persons affected the health of the
Mother Superior herself, may be inferred from the following confession, in a letter of hers to the Rev. 3'I.
Brute: "Rules, prudence, subjection, opinions, etc.,
are dreadful walls to a burning soul wild as mine.
For me, I am like a fiery horse I had when a girl,
whom they tried to break by making him drag a heavy
cart; and the poor beast was so humbled that he could
never more be inspired by whips or caresses, and
wasted to a skeleton till he died!" Mrs. Seton's death
occurred in 1820.
208 
THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI.
CHAPTER XLI.
THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI.
BEFORE reaching the closing circumstances of my
stay at St. Joseph's, I may pause to describe the ceremonies performed at that institution in commemoration of a festival of peculiar solemnity which was celebrated during my residence there. It was the day
of Corpus Christi, or the Feast of the Blessed Sacrament, termed, according to the tenets of the Roman
Catholic Church, the Body of Christ.
On the morning of that day the sisterhood assembled in the community-roomi and novitiate, and, at the
sound of the bell, formed themselves in the "rank,"
and walked in procession to the chapel. Each sister
held in one hand her chaplet beads, and in the other a
candle taken from a box near the door as she went
out. During this space of time all were engaged in
saying, in a low tone, the "Ave Alaria."
Arriving in the chapel, after the usual ceremony of
kissing the back of the seats before them, a chant was
commenced by the choir; and the Superior, attended
by two other Lazarists, entered the sanctuary, clothed
in rich and costly vestments.   The altar had been
splendidly decorated for the occasion, and the statue
of the Virgin wreathed with flowers. The Host was
209 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
then for a moment elevated and exposed to view; then
it was veiled from sight with a covering, on which was
inscribed, in Latin, "Behold the Lamb of God."
After the saying of a few prayers, one of the priests
took the sacrament and advanced to the railing which
separates the sanctuary from the chapel.  There he
was joined by the others in attendance. Several altar-boys raised above the heads of the priests a magnificent canopy. The choir again commenced a solemn chant. The sacristan then advanced from the
sacristy, and lighted the candle held by that one of
the sisters who sat at the end of the nearest bench.
The next sister then lighted her candle by means of
her neighbor's, and so on, until the whole number had
done likewise, and all the candles were lighted in the
hands of the kneeling sisters.
This completed, the priests, carrying the HIost, with
the canopy elevated above them, marched slowly down
the aisle, while every head was bowed in silent adoration. When they had reached the door, a rap was
given by the Mother Superior, upon which the whole
assemblage, after kissing the seats as usual, rose and
walked in procession, each sister with her lighted candle, the choir accompanying them and chanting, in
which the priests joined.
The procession crossed the Superior's garden and
the adjacent grounds to a small and beautiful chapel,*
which the priests entered, placing the sacrament upon
the altar while the "Benediction" was sung.  During
* This is a small chapel in the boarders' play-grounds, called the
Chapel of Sister Bernardine, it being built by her when she was directress in the academy by donations obtained from the scholars.
210 
THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI.
this period the sisters knelt upon the ground, kissing
the earth as they knelt and before they rose. The
sacrament was then taken from this chapel, and the
procession moved on to that of St. Joseph, which is
situated in another part of the grounds, called "The
Sisters' Garden," or the community-ground. "Benediction" was suing here also, and the same form was
observed as before, both in and out of the chapel.
Then the sacrament was carried through the community-room and the novitiate, a path being formed in
one of the rooms, bordered with rose-leaves and evergreens, through which the procession walked.
After crossing the corridor and entering the chapel
of the institution, the ceremonies were there ended
with a benediction. The lights were extinguished,
and, after the usual form of kissing the seats in front
of each, and repeating a few prayers, the community
once more arranged themselves in the rank and pro ceeded to their respective rooms.
The boarders of the institution followed in the rear
of the procession of sisters throughout the whole of
these imposing ceremonolies.
211 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XLII.
A SECOND LETTER FROMI HOi[E.
A SECOND letter was at length received at the institution on the -th of September, 1854, from my relatives, and upon its receipt I was ordered to appear before the mistress of novices. Kneeling at her feet, I
listened to the letter as she read it aloud. It was
from my sister. She stated that she would come for
me in a few days, and that I must return home with
her.
This information excited greatly the displeasure of
the mistress of novices. Having finished its perusal,
she seized me with a tight grasp by the arm, saying,
",Do you think you will ever return home?" I answered that I did not know, and began to tremble violently, as well with agitation as with dread, such is
the awe that an official inspires at the institution.
This enraged her. She struck me upon the forehead,
and, roughly thrusting me from her, she ordered me
to go and kneel before the altar of St. Joseph at one
end of the room, and repeat some prayers as a penance.
I obeyed mechanically, but no prayer, no tears
came to relieve my feelings; cold and almost stupefied, I remained motionless as the statue before which
212 
A SECOND LETTER FROM HOME.
I was bent. An hour and more passed ere I was
roused from my stupor; but a stormy conflict was
raging within my breast. The agonizing consciousness had a second time with terrible force come upon
me that I was eternally severed from all that made
life dear.
The bell rang for meditation in the chapel, and this
call I must obey. Had it been some other kind of
punishment that was allotted me, this would have
given variation to my employment, and relieved the
fatigue; but the signal only called me to renew the
exhausting effort of maintaining for a long time the
same painful posture. I rose, took my place in the
rank, and repaired to the chapel, where another hour
was spent on my knees in prayer and meditation, as
far as bodily constraint and mental distress would permit the exercise of thought.
A week elapsed, and on Sunday I asked permission
to reply to the letter received from my friends.  As it
was a day usually appropriated in part to the writing
of letters-which, however, must be written after high
mass, and submitted to the inspection of the Mother
Superior, by whom they are forwarded at her pleasure
-I had some hope of obtaining my request. But permission was denied me, with an assurance that it
would be but a loss of time, and useless for me to do
so. I was ordered to the refectory for the purpose of
cleaning knives and forks. I had been but a short
time engaged in this employment, when the "reli gieuse" who had charge of this department suddenly
rushed toward me, and seizing the knife I was clean —
ing, drew it through my hand, commencing an angry
2153 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
rebuke for some pretended fault, and threatening to
report me. This unprovoked cruelty so startled me,
already enfeebled as I was by severe labor and protracted fatigue, that I fell in a spasm on the floor,
striking my head against a bench. A young novice,
who had seen me fall, dragged me into the passage,
supported my head, and sent another to report to an
officer my situation. Before the officer came I had revived, and was proceeding down the corridor, aided
by two sisters, when I met her. She conveyed me to
the infirmary, asking me, at the same time, what was
the matter. Fearing to tell her, I remained silent;
but as she insisted on an answer, I related to her the
occurrence. She made no reply, and did not seem to
entertain much sympathy for me. She left me on a
bed in the infirmary, but soon after returned, and made
me get up and go back to my work in the refectory.
I ought to say that a sister must obtain permission
to write on the Saturday preceding; should she fail
to do this, it is not allowed her to ask the privilege.
But often, when this is done, the request is refused,
and the petitioner is told that it would be "a loss of
time." I have more than once received this answer.
All letters written by the sisters are given to the mistress of novices for her perusal. Many of themn never
reach their destination, being destroyed by her on the
spot. Others are sent to the Superior's room, but the
writers never know what becomes of them. I have
seen the mistress of novices engaged in reading and
tearing to pieces letters which have been sent to the
novitiate, but were never destined to reach those why'
perhaps were anxiously awaiting their arrival at home.
214 
A SECOND LETTER FROM HOME.
Many a time have I seen sisters kneeling before the
mistress of novices, the tears streaming from their
eyes as they listened to letters read by her, but which
they were not permitted to hold in their own hands,
nor look at, to trace the beloved characters of a mother's or a sister's writing.
215 
MIISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XLIII.
MORTALITY AND DEATH AT ST. JOSEPH'S.
IT is on all hands acknowledged that the life of
monastic and conventual establishments is most unfavorable to bodily health. Those even who are chiefly interested in upholding these institutions make no
attempt to conceal the fact.  On the contrary, I have
shown, and of this farther evidence will be given hereafter, that from the very outset the system adopted at
St. Joseph's has been disastrous and fatal in the extreme, so far as sickness, disease, and death are evidences of its workings. In the second year after the
foundation of the society, which commenced with only
eighteen members, three of them died; in 1816, two
more; the following year, four; and the next, three.
I have already testified that, within the ten months of
my sojourn at St. Joseph's, no fewer than fourteen
deaths, to my personal knowledge, occurred. Nor does
the Mother Superior,- in her remarkable letter written
after my escape, controvert this point; she maintains
only that this excessive mortality is the result of the
pious and charitable exertions to which the sisters devote themselves in attending hospitals and ministering to the sick. I leave it for an impartial judgment
to decide whether it may not much more rationally be
216 
MORTALITY AND DEATH AT ST. JOSEPH'S.  217
ascribed to the exhausting and depressing effects of
unremitted and laborious servile "duties" and devotional exercises, the forms and attitudes of which resemble rather the varieties of torture than the employments of Christian meditation and worship. I leave
it for a candid discrimination to say whether such be
not the inevitable result of protracted and reiterated
vigils, of exposure to a damp and chilly atmosphere,
of mental excitement fed by superstitious fears and apprehensions, of unnatural severment from all the attachments of life, and seclusion under perpetual re
straints.
I myself, while a member of the community, was
often sick, worn down and utterly prostrated by the
services daily and uninterruptedly required of me.
Even while engaged in performing the duties, comparatively lighter, which were enjoined upon me as a
teacher in the academy, it would frequently happen
that the lassitude of body and mind became almost
insupportable. In addition to instructing a class of
pupils in the French language, and teaching others in
music, I was required to perform a similar task for
such of the novices as evinced any talent for vocal or
instrumental music, in order that the vacancies occurring from time to time in the choir might be appropriately supplied. I have often sat for hours, without a
moment's intermission or rest, at the piano, and after
that have been occupied at work in the refectory or
other departments.
If illness and a shattered constitution-the ordinary
and necessary results of such a system*-had been
* The Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, a distinguished clergyman of the
K 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
the only suffering brought upon me by the endurance
of these inflictions, I might still be an inmate of St.
Joseph's-an unwilling inmate, doubtless, since I had
become thoroughly convinced of my own mistake in
entering that institution. But this alone would not
have proved sufficient to impel me to the desperate
venture of an attempt to escape from its walls. I call
it a desperate venture, because the failure to accomplish
my object would have been attended with the most
bitter consequences. But other apprehensions were
combined with those of bodily suffering to impel me
in this effort to flee from a place the atmosphere of
which was dangerous and contaminating.
I entered the institution of St. Joseph's under the
complacent impression and belief that among the "Sis
English Church, stated in a lecture some time since, that a gentleman, high in official position at Rome, who had been a visitor with the
Cardinal Vicar in the various nunneries of that city, gave him the following facts from his own positive knowledge. He remarked that,
"entering these nunneries at the early age of sixteen or eighteen, for
a few years the nuns seemed sufficiently happy; but that afterward,
having discovered the extent of the step they had taken, some of them
pined, and drooped, and withered, and died; while others, struggling
against it for a time, in the end gave way to despair, and died of madness. He stated that, of his own experience, the majority of these
yOtnlg?vens DIED DERANGED BEFORE TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF AGE!"Lecture at Bath, England, June 7th, 1852.
In the concluding portion of this volume we shall have occasion to
give the statement of an unimpeachable witness, the excellent Dr. De
Sanctis, now a minister of the Waldensian Church in Piedmont, but formerly a Roman Catholic priest of distinction, curate of the Magdalene
at Rome, and confessor at a number of convents in that city. In a
communication made expressly for the present work, he gives it as the
result of personal observation, that " a very large proportion of the nuns
die in their youth; and a great part of the rest drag a miserable existence in continual disease and suffering."
218 
MORTALITY AND DEATH AT ST. JOSEPH'S. 219
ters of Charity" I should find an entire devotedness,
a pure and unselfish dedication to the service of the
Almighty. I had heard and read so much of their pious lives, their earnest efforts to comfort the afflicted,
relieve the sick, and console the dying, that I entertained the most exalted ideas of their Christian perfection. During the short time of my visit as a visitor,
my limited observation, together with the assurances
of the Superior, confirmed these favorable sentiments,
and I became a member of the community, prepared,
under circumstances the most propitious, to look upon
every thing with an admiring eye. Gradually this illusion was dissipated. The rose tint gave place to
the sombre hue of the reality; my golden anticipations one by one were falsified; and the ardent enthusiasm with which I entered, from fever heat cooled
down to zero.
I had no doubt that the great number of individuals in the sisterhood were perfectly sincere and conscientious in the practice of their devotions and the
discharge of their duties. But among these, so much
superstition, weakness, and folly prevailed as to excite contempt, or at least pity. The idolatrous worship of the Virgin Mary was carried to such a pitch
as could not fail to shock a mind that retained any
vestige of scriptural belief and conviction.* The re
* The impulse that has been given of late years by the Romish
priesthood to what they call "the devotion to Mary," has carried that
worship to an excess and exaggeration almost inconceivable. Connected with this increase of a blasphemous homage is an endeavor to
represent the Virgin Mary as, in a peculiar sense, the DEITY of wom- 
en, and, of course, especially of nuns. Thus the famous M. de Genoude, one of the most eminent ecclesiastics of the Romish Church in 
IMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
spect paid to pictures and images, though designed, according to the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church,
France, has expressed this tendency in these remarkable words:
"MARY was the repairer of Eve's offense, even as ouR LORD was the
repairer of the offense of Adam!"  ("Marie fut la riparatrice de la faute
d'Eve, comme Notre-Seigneur fut le r6parateur de la faute d'Adam."-Tableau historique du premier siecle de l'Eglise.)  Another writer,
M. Oswald, professor of theology in the Roman Catholic Seminary of
Paderborn, in Germany, makes the following more full statement of
the same idea: "Mary was not a human creature like ourselves; she
was The Woman, as Christ was The Man. The work of redemption
revolves upon two names-Jesus Christ, the God-Man, and Mary, the
Virgin-Mother of God. For this reason we are disposed to erect by the
side of Christology a Marialogy, of whzch this should be the creed: I believe in Mary, born without sin, and exempt from faults throughout her
entire life; the Virgin-Mother of the Lord by the grace of God, and at
the same time by her own free consent; co-operating, although in
dependence upon her divine Son, in the act of redemption; performing therein a part without which the work of Jesus Christ would not
be complete; the dispenser, in the Church, of certain graces which,
though ultimately owing to the merits of Jesus Christ, are found nevertheless in a certain causal dependence upon her active participation
in the redemption of man. She occupies this place in the quality of
spiritual mother of the human kind, and as special representative of her
sex in the work of reparation."-(Marialogie dogmatique, 1850, p. 1, 2.)
But there is a deeper abyss of absurdity and blasphemy to which
these worshipers of the Virgin Mary descend.  "We assert," says M.
Oswald, "that M4fary is co-present in the Eucharist; this is an inevitable consequence of our Marianic theory, and we do not shrink from
any of its consequences. If Mary, as Mother of God, took a real part
in our redemption, this part, in order that it might not be lost, must
have been bequeathed to the Church by its Founder, and must be transmitted in the Eucharist. It is needless to add, that, in accordance with
the eucharistic doctrine of the Church, this presence of Mary in the Eucharist is veritable and real, not simply ideal or figurative. Women receive more in the Eucharist than do men. They receive, in addition to
the grace of Jesus Christ, which is common to all, a supplement of Marianic grace!"-(Marialogie, etc., p. 176, foll.) 
As a single specimen of the nature of the supplications addressed to
the Virgin Mary which are put in the mouths of the multitudes under
220 
MORTALITY AND DEATH AT ST. JOSEPH'S. 221
to serve for the simple direction of the mind to a devout
contemplation of their subjects, is here practiced in a
manner that savors of the grossest idolatry. To give
a solitary instance: I have spoken of the statue of St.
Vincent, the founder of the order, which stands in the
Superior's garden, where sometimes we were permitted to work. This figure is held in special estimation.
No one passed it without a lowly obeisance, and I have
often heard it addressed as a living being.   Many of
the sisters would approach it timidly, with hands
clasped in the attitude of prayer, and, after a profound
salutation, exclaim, in beseeching tones, "Pray  for
me, father!"
The old or "professed sisters," whose physical constitution has enabled them to pass through the ordeal
of years, are treated with much more leniency, and
lead an easier life than the novices. Many of those
who are rather advanced in age occupy their own
rooms, where they are served by the younger sisters,
and are not compelled strictly to attend to all the services. In the community-room they sometimes have
"parties," with music and refreshments, to which the
priests are invited.* On such occasions, some of the
younger sisters are admitted, or allowed a share in the
the spiritual care of the Romish priests, we give the following extract
of a prayer which is in use at Rome, and is accompanied by the promise of "an indulgence of one hundred years, granted by the supreme
pontiffs Gregory XV. and Clement XII."  It begins thus: "0 purest
and most immaculate ever-Virgin Mary! Daughter of the Everlasting
Father, Mother of the Everlasting Son, Spouse of the Holy Ghost!
August and living Temple of the Most Holy Trinity! Jewel of purity,
spotless mirror," etc., etc.
* At Rome they act comedies and tragedies in the convents. Seo
De Sanctis' letter appended to this work. 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
delicacies provided, although, for the most part, it is
their duty to prepare them. Of occurrences in the
community-room I can, however, give no minute particulars from personal observation, as the "seminary
sisters" are not allowed to enter that apartment unless
summoned to the presence of the Superior, or sent
thither with a message; but enough is known outside
to excite sorrow and disgust.
222 
NO  BIBLE.
CHAPTER XLIV.
NO BIBLE.
IT is well known to every one at all conversant with
ecclesiastical history that the perusal of the Scriptures
by the laity has at all times been discouraged, and on
repeated occasions forbidden by the Roman Catholic
hierarchy.*  When  charged with this criminal with
* This fact, plain and obvious as it is to the reader of history, tells
with such power upon the unscriptural character of the Romish system, that the priests can only meet it with an audacious denial. In
this country, especially, they do not hesitate to say that the Church
of Rome gives full liberty to read the Bible and encourages its use, forbidding only the perusal of a Protestant translation. The means of
answering so barefaced a falsehood are not always at hand in a popular discussion, and thus they often succeed in producing the desired
impression upon the minds of the uninformed. We shall give here in
brief a few statements illustrative of the treatment that the Bible has
received at the hands of the supreme pontiffs of that Church, to say
nothing of the Bible-burnings and confiscations that occur so frequently in our own day in Roman Catholic countries, where no attempt is
made to conceal the enmity of Romanism for the word of God.
The Council of Trent-to go no farther back-declared its anathema
against any one who should read the Bible without a license from his
bishop or inquisitor, that license to be founded on a certificate from
his confessor that he is in no danger of receiving injury from so doing.
Pope Pius VII., in 1816, denounces in a special bull the Bible Society, and expresses himself"  shocked" by the circulation of the Scriptures, which he characterizes as a " most crafty device, by which the
very foundations of religion are undermined;" a "pestilence," which
223 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
holding of God's word from men, it is sometimes alleged, by way of excuse, that in former times the ignorance of the people was an obstacle to the right understanding of the precepts and doctrines of the Bible, and
also that the scarcity and high price of copies of the
Scriptures prevented their circulation. This apology
may be readily admitted with reference to that period
of which the assertion is true; but it should be obseved that even in the present enlightened age, no encouragement is held out in countries where Romanism
predominates for the examination of that holy book,
it behooves him "to remedy and abolish;" "a defilement of the faith,
eminently dangerous to souls."  He congratulates the primate to
whom his letter is addressed on the zeal he had shown "to detect and
overthrow the impious machinations of these innovators;" and represents it as an episcopal duty to expose "the wickedness of their nefarious scheme," and openly to publish that "the Bible printed by heretics is to be numbered among other prohibited books, conformably to
the rules of the Index; for it is evident from experience that the Holy
Scriptures, when circulated in the vulgar tongue, have, through the temerity of men, produced more harm than benefit."
The same pope issued in 1819 a bull on the subject of the circulation of the Scriptures in the Irish schools. He speaks of this as a
"sowing of tares," and that the children are thereby infected with the
"fatal poison of depraved doctrines;" and exhorts the Irish bishops to
endeavor to prevent the wheat from being " choked by the tares."
In 1824, Pope Leo XII. published an encyclical letter, in which he
adverts to a certain society, vulgarly called the Bible Society, as spreading itself throughout the whole world, and goes on to term the Protestant Bible the "Gospel of the Devil."
The late Pope Gregory XVI., in his encyclical letter, after referring
to the decree of the Council of Trent already mentioned, ratifies that
and all similar enactments of the Church in these terms: "Moreover,
we confirm and renew the decrees recited above, delivered in former
times by apostolic authority, against the publication, distribution, reading, and possessing of books of the Holy Scriptures translated into the
vulgar tongue."
224 
NO BIBLE.
nor is even the erroneous translation of it which has
been sanctioned by the authorities of the Church of
Rome freely circulated for popular perusal. But in
the United States no such predominancy enables the
priesthood to expel the Scriptures from publicity, and
here, accordingly, the charge is indignantly denied, and
the assertion is exultingly made that the Bible is kept
at all the Catholic book-stores, and all Catholics are at
liberty to purchase and read it. Without entering
upon a discussion of this statement, I will only appeal
to Catholics themselves to answer truly whether their
priests or confessors are in the habit of recommending
the habitual study of the Scriptures to them individually. The fact that no such reference or direction is
habitually made by the priesthood to the oracles of
God sufficiently proves their indifference, if not their
hostility to it.
During the whole period of my connection with the
Church of Rome, no such instruction or counsel was
given me by my spiritual director; and while a resident at St. Joseph's I never saw a Bible, and I had
frequent access to the library. My own testimony
would certainly go to confirm the general statement,
the correctness of which is corroborated by the entire
policy of Romanism, to subject the people to the con trol of the clergy. Apprehensive lest the frequent andcl
unrestrained study of the sacred Scriptures would
prove a serious antagonism to their efforts for enslav ing the mind, the priests carefully abstain from en couraging their dissemination wherever they do not
dare t          o        oppose it openly.   Another  consideration
doubtless acts upon them. Some of the peculiar dog                        K2
225
iAi 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
mas of Romanism, such as that of P'urgatory and that
respecting indulgences, are effectual means of augmenting the revenues of the Church; and these subjects
of belief are so flimsily supported even by their own
interpretation of Scripture, that they would be rejected if examined by every intelligent student of the holy
volume.
The books permitted and recommended for reading
at St. Joseph's are the "Lives of the Saints," extracts
from the "Roman Martyrology" and the "Conferences." These last are a compilation of rules and
regulations to be observed by the Order of Sisters
of Charity, as prepared by their founder, St.Vincent.
They contain much matter not suitable for edification,
nor calculated to promote purity of thought.
226 
A DREAM3 OF FREEDOM.
CHAPTER XLV.
A DREAM OF FREEDOM.
IN a former part of this narrative I have made allusion to the careful prevention of confidential intercourse between members of the community. The regulations enjoining silence, except at a certain hour, are
strictly enforced; and even at that period conversation
is allowed only on permitted subjects and in the presence of superiors. For two sisters to engage in private interchange of thought would be an offense which,
if known, would unavoidably be visited with severe
punishment. The want of some sympathizing friend
to whom I might unburden my feelings and sufferings, or to whom, in turn, I might afford consolation and support, was bitterly felt. Outward signs of
the mental conflict must imperatively be suppressed.
When almost overwhelmed with sensations of utter
desolation, I was forced to veil, by a powerful effort,
my wretchedness. The death-like pallor of the countenance, and often the traces of tears that could not be
restrained, would perhaps betray the agony of soul.
But I must be calm and collected in manner, and
breathe no syllable that might express my misery.
Every native impulse of the heart, every prompting
of affection, every thought of syvmpathy and kindness,
227 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
must be subdued and silenced: such, it is thought,
is the duty of all who would render themselves worthy
to wvear the " holy habit."
Often have I gazed from my window upon the picturesque grounds that environed my prison. How
green and beautiful the trees, their slender branches
bending in the vesper breeze! The rose of lovely tint,
and the many flowers embosomed in the long waving
grass-I could not enjoy their sweetness; not even
was it lawful for me to inhale at will their delicious
perfume, wafted by the breeze that fanned my cheek,
once glowing with health andcl animation, but now
marked with the traces of suffering and sorrow.
Ever and anon my listless gaze would wander over
the distant landscape. Before me were the mountains,
in all their majestic beauty, the western sun, as it
set, pouring a flood of golden light upon the dense foliage that covered their summits; and then, as a caged
bird dashing against the bars of its prison-house with
strong desire to gain its native wild-wood, even so did
I yearn to escape from the walls that surrounded me,
to roam free and unfettered over those mountain sides,
reveling in those sunbeams, or quietly resting in the
shade of those towering trees. But I must banish
these thoughts-repel the wish to gaze upon and enjoy
the beauties of nature. What have I to do with
earth? What to me is that world which I have renounceed forever? For me the interest of natural life
is irrevocably closed, and now, by devoting my existenee to the service of God in the holy seclusion of the
cloister, I shall purchase heaven! By a life of poverty, suffering, prayer, and penance, win the smile of
228 
A DREAM OF FREEDOM.
the holy Virgin and her divine Son! Yes, I will welcome those pains and miseries to save my soul, though
they destroy my body. But can not heaven be gained without such a sacrifice? The way is dark and
difficult. What now is left me? a lonely heart, a
weary life, a disappointed hope. 0 God! teach my
spirit to be resigned to Thy most holy will.
Scenes of other days now pass in rapid review before me. Alas! that memory should add its pangs,
recalling years that have forever fled, hours that I
would fain forget, moments of thrilling rapture, from
whose fond contemplation my vows debar me now.
Scenes of more recent date, with all their blighting
woe, come to agonize my heart, yet bleeding with former reflections: a mother's loss, never to be made
up, never to be alleviated by the consolations of paternal and sisterly affection; expostulations and gentle warnings disregarded, under the infatuation of a
deceived and misguided zeal. Well is it now that
little time is allowed for such remembrances. Let me
return to the care and weariness of my bondage, and
forget the past.
229 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER XLVI.
MY ESCAPE.
CONSCIOUS that I was a guarded prisoner at St. Joseph's, I now determined, in secresy if possible, to escape. But could I hope to leave the institution undiscovered during the day? It was impossible, since
no one is suffered even to enter or leave a room with
out express command or obtained permission, and spies
are known to be placed in all parts of the building,
though individually recognizable as such by none but
the Superior.
Considerable time had elapsed since the forming of
this resolution without the offering of any special facility to realize the scheme. Finally, I determined to
delay no longer, but make an attempt at once. At
first I was at a loss what course to decide upon when
once I should be outside the walls of the institution.
The town of Emmettsburg was but a quarter of a mile
distant, and I could easily reach it; but I knew that
a large proportion of the inhabitants were Catholics,
and that I should run the risk of being discovered and
sent back to the community.   The "house" of the
Lazarists was also located there, between which and
St. Joseph's there was constant communication, and
the probability of an encounter on the road with some
230 
'MY ESCAPE.
member of the order occurred to my mind. In view
of these considerations, I decided that it would be more
prudent to proceed to Frederick City. I resolved, accordingly, to seek egress from the building about two
hours after midnight, in order that I might catch the
stage from Emmettsburg to that place, which passed
at about four o'clock in the morning. This resolution
was taken on the evening preceding my departure,
while sitting at the window of my cell for a few minutes before the ringing of the bell for evening prayers.
I had been detained from supper until late, in consequence of having been appointed to take charge of the
music-rooms (a duty ordinarily discharged by a vowed
sister) while the sisterhood were at their meal, and
when I arrived at the refectory nearly every one had
left. I took advantage of the opportunity and secured
a knife, which I concealed about my person, with the
full determination to use it, if my strength should permit, in self-defense, should I be stopped or overtaken
on the road; for I was now desperate, and the bare
idea of failure filled me with terror.
While seated at the window revolving my plan, as
my head rested against the casement, and the chill
night air blew in upon me (though for this I cared not,
being familiar with suffering and exposure to cold), I
was startled from my meditations by the deep tolling
of the convent bell calling to prayers. Hastily composing my features, and effacing the traces of tears
from my countenance, I rose to obey its summons for
the last time, as I fondly hoped. While crossing the
corridor on my way to the novitiate, I was accosted
by an old sister, who delivered to me an order with
231 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
which she had been intrusted, requiring that I should
sweep out all the music-rooms at an early hour in the
morning. I showed her my hand, which I carried in
a sling, the thumb having been opened to the bone
but a few days before to cure a whitlow, and told her
that I should hardly be able to perform the duty.
Saying that the order was imperative, she left me, and
I proceeded to the chapel, not, it may be presumed,
with any purpose of sweeping out the music-rooms
the next morning; instead of which, I hoped to be
breathing the fresh air of heaven, and exulting in the
sense of freedom and deliverance from the horrors of a
"living death."
About an hour passed by after the conclusion of the
evening devotions, and all the sisters had retired to
their cells. Suffering exceedingly from thirst, I resolved, though it was contrary to the rules for a novice to drink after the ringing of the silence-bell, to procure a draught of water, and at the same time to see
whether the key of a door leading from a passage
across the porch to the infirmary was in the lock. I
accomplished my purpose without discovery, but the
key had been removed. Returning to my cell, I lay
down on my bed to obtain some rest before the appointed hour; but I was too anxious to sleep, and
trembled and shivered upon my couch until the cry of
the watchman, who has charge of the establishment at
night, announced that it was two o'clock. A few minutes after I arose, put on my habit, placing the beads
in my pocket, lest they should rattle as I walked along,
and then waited for the watchman's cry of "three
o'clock." Upon hearing that signal I left my cell, do
232 
MY ESCAPE.
ing so for the first time without making my bed, and
groped my way through the darkness down the stairs
and along the cloisters, all the while attentively listening to detect any noise. All was silent save the slight
sound of my footsteps on the paved floor. Deseending a narrow flight of stairs, I proceeded along a dark
passage, at the extremity of which there were other
steps leading to the chapel. I preferred to attempt
my escape in this part of the building for the reason
that there was no inclosure immediately outside of it.
Having gained the chapel door, I was forced to pause
and rest for a few moments to gain composure; for I
was trembling violently, and almost suffoeated by the
impetuous and convulsive throbbings of my heart.
There was no time to be lost, however; so, taking courage, I ran across the chapel, and, guided by a faint
gleam of moonlight through the erevices, climbed up to
a window, opened it, and leaped to the pavement below. I looked around and listened, but no living object was visible, and no sound broke the stillness.
The watchman at the building had gone in, but there
was another stationed at the gate, whose vigilance I
would have to elude. I could not stop, however, to
reflect, but fled rapidly down the avenue. When about
half way, I heard a slight noise, and approaching nearer, perceived, to my dismay, that the watchman had
raised the window of his room, and was leaning from
it, as though suspicious of something wrong.   My
heart sank within me, and for a moment I was literally paralyzed with fear. But I soon succeeded in concealing myself behind a tree, and remained there for
some time, anxiously awaiting the withdrawal of the
233 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
watchman from his post of observation. There was
another mode of egress from the grounds, by a path
through the grave-yard, where from my station I could
see the white crosses gleaming in the moonlight. But
this would take me in a direction opposite to that which
I intended to follow; and fearing lest I might become
confiused and lose my way, I resolved to wait where I
was.
Another grievous disappointment was in store for
me.  While at my hiding-place, the stage for Frederick City, in which I had trusted to obtain a seat, passed by, and with it all my sanguine anticipations vanished, and for an instant despair took possession of my
faculties. I became partly reassured, however, when
I joyfully observed that the watchman, as if satisfied
by the passing of the stage, had closed the window
and retired. I quickly passed through the gate into
the road, feeling that my object was at least half accomplished, the chief obstacle being already surmounted.
I had walked but a short distance in the direction
taken by the stage when, approaching a bridge which
I was obliged to cross, I saw in the shadow the figure
of a man. At this sight my courage again faltered,
for I felt assured that, should he prove a Catholic, and
suspect from my garb who I was, he would attempt to
carry me back by force; but drawing my shawl closely
around me, to conceal as much as possible my "habit,"
I pulled my dark bonnet farther over my face, and
grasping the knife as firmly as my wounded hand
would allow, I walked boldly past without being accosted. About a mile and a half farther on, hearing
234
6 
MY  ESCAPE.
the voices of a party of men who were coming toward
me, I entered a gate that opened on the road, and
knelt behind the inclosure till they had gone by. I
was on the point of again proceeding upon my way,
after waiting some minutes to make sure that the road
was clear, when sounds of fighting and cries of "murder" from a house near by caused me to shrink back
in alarm to my hiding-place. There I remained until
I heard the Angelus ring at St. Joseph's. I knew
then that it was six o'clock; and conscious that I had
no time to lose, I re-entered the road and prosecuted
my journey with as much speed as my tired limbs
could effect.
I had walked a considerable distance, and began to
experience great fatigue, when, seeing a woman near
a house on the road-side, I ventured to address her,
asking "how far it was to Frederick City."  "Twenty-two miles," was her answer. I inquired if I could
obtain a conveyance thither. Without deigning a reply to my question, she asked me where I came from,
and on my telling her "from Emmettsburg," advised
me in a peremptory tone to "go back, and start from
there." Then turning to a young man who came out
of the house, she whispered to him for a few moments,
when he immediately started in the direction of the
institution.
Convinced from her conduct that the woman was
a Catholic, and entertained some suspicion of my being
a fugitive firom the sisterhood; confident, too, that she
had dispatched the young man to give information
concerning me, I turned away, and continued my jour —
ney.  But I was now afraid to proceed on the main
235 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
road, lest I should be overtaken, and more afraid to
leave it, lest I should lose my way. After crossing a
creek-Owning's Creek I think it is called-I arrived
about nine o'clock at a small village, which a sign-post
informed me was Creagerstown. I had walked a distance of ten miles. On inquiring for the principal
house of entertainment in the place, I was directed to
Stevens's Hotel, the proprietor of which, at that time,
with a noble kindness and generous hospitality that
acted like a soothing balm upon my wounded spirit,
and for which I shall ever be grateful, accorded me the
shelter of his house, and assured me of the protection
of his arm until the arrival of my father, to whom I instantly wrote, informing him of the circumstances of
my escape.
None but those who have felt, after some overwhelming sorrow that threatened to obscure every future prospect, the first cheering rays of hope breaking
through the clouds-none but those who, deprived of
all sympathy and protection, exposed to evil designs
and unscrupulous schemes against their peace and purity, without a glimpse of succor and deliverance, have
suddenly been rescued from their perilous condition
and restored to safety, can adequately appreciate the
exultant joy and happiness that thrilled every nerve
of my system when convinced that I had gained shelter and defense among those whose hearts beat in sympathy with my afflictions and my fears. To many
noble-hearted citizens of Creagerstown will memory
often recur with gratitude for their exertions in behalf
of a friendless, and, to them, unknown girl.
As I afterward learned, and at the time conjectured,
236 
MY ESCAPE.
the young man sent off by the woman whom I addressed on the road did go to St.Joseph's with the
information, but, owing to my disguise, he did not
know that I was a member of the community, and told
the Superior that a boarder had escaped. It was not
class-day, but the bell was rung, and the scholars were
assembled. None being missed, it was supposed that
the messenger had been mistaken. Thus the knowledge of my absence was delayed for a time; and to
this delay I am perhaps indebted for the fact that I
was not overtaken and forced back.
So soon, however, as my escape became known, persons were sent in search of me in different directions;
and my place of refuge was discovered by the overseer
of the farm, who had gone to Frederick City, suspecting that I had perhaps sought admission at the convent there, which is a "visitation" convent, and does
not stand in very amicable relations with St. Joseph's;
but, hearing no tidings of me there, he came to Creagerstown. Hie requested an interview with me, and
stated that the Mother Superior was greatly disturbed
at the step I had taken, and promised that if I would
return quietly, and without causing an excitement, she
would send me home. Ile added that she was fearful lest, if the circumstances should become known,
the institution would be injured. My answer to this
plausible message may readily be surmised. After
the departure of the overseer, the Superior, being informed where I was, dispatched two "officers" of the
community to Creagerstown. On their arrival they
endeavored to force their way to my room, but I refused to see them; for the habit of obedience to their
237
1      11..,, I'- - I
I,    -,,, I - 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
mandates had become so strong, that I actually dreaded the influence of their presence, and trembled at the
thought of an interview with those of whom I had so
long stood in awe, and to whose wishes and commands
submission had become, as it were, a second nature.
The landlord of the hotel took part in my anxiety to
avoid this meeting. I was locked up in a room on
the second story of the house, the window-shutters of
which were closed and fastened during the whole time
of the sisters' stay. I was in a state of the utmost
alarm lest they should reach me. I heard the altercation going on below, and feared that, after all, I
should be delivered up. So much had my spirit become subject to the control of these sister-officers of
St. Joseph's. But, being unable to obtain access to
me, they wrote notes, which were thrust under the door,
and a receipt, which I signed, for the articles of my
own property which had been brought me. I sent
them every thing about my person that they demanded-my "capot," community-book or formulary, etc.,
etc. I had not felt such alarm at any moment during
my escape as during the time that these sisters remained in the house.
238 
AN INCIDENT AFTER ESCAPE.
CHAPTER XLVII.
AN INCIDENT AFTER ESCAPE.
A SHORT time previous to my departure, one of the
boarders had left the academy. She had always appeared much attached to me; and when, on my way
home from Creagerstown with my father, we stopped
at a hotel in Frederick City, she immediately came
upon hearing of our arrival, and, rushing to my arms,
embraced me with a cry of delight, "Oh! sister, I am
so glad to see you away from that institution!" She
did not leave me until we entered the cars for Baltimore. Her congratulations were abundant, and she
repeatedly assured me, while we were together in Frederick, that, had she known of my desire to escape, her
carriage would have been at my disposal.
After my return home I received a letter from this
young lady which I did not answer. Its tenor was
such as to satisfy me that already her mind had been
biased against me, so little dependence can be placed
upon the candid judgment of any one, even a postulant or boarder, who is under the influence of the Superior of St. Joseph's.
It is worthy of notice, however accounted for, that
in every case of the flight of a young girl from the
walls of a Roman Catholic convent or community,
239 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
which she may have been induced by plausible but
deceitful representations to enter, she is at once regarded as an outcast and denounced as a disgrace to
religion by the whole papal society. On this subject
the remarks of a recent writer are so pertinent that I
can not express myself better than in his words:
",Her early associates will upbraid her, her own parents [if they be Roman Catholic] will cast her off,
and the papal community in which she lives will avoid
her as if infected with leprosy.   In papal countries
she will scarcely be able to get food to keep her from
starvation, if they do not rally around her and drive
her back to prison, and penance, and punishment.
"Why is this?  Is it not very plain that the instructions of the priests to their people are of such a
kind that they train them to believe that if a nun escapes, no matter for what cause, she is disobedient to
the priest, and will certainly be damned; and though
it may appear cruel to treat her so harshly, yet, in the
end, if they succeed in compelling her to go back to
the convent, the cruelty to the escaped nun will be
considered meritorious for their and her salvation?
"To make ample provision for retaining them in
these prisons, the priests teach that there is no sin
which can be committed while in the convent that will
bear comparison with that of leaving off the convent
life and being married.   Having gotten this idea in
the minds of their people of this dreadful sin of escaping from the convent, the people never pretend to imagine for what cause or under what circumstances the
individual has escaped.
"Now I will admit that one half, two thirds-nay,
240 
AN INCIDENT AFTER ESCAPE.
that all the nuns enter willingly, but really ignorant
of what is before them. Tell me of what immorality
or crime they are guilty when, on finding the convent
to be not what they supposed and were taught that it
was, they desire to leave, and on finding themselves
imprisoned, venture on an escape?"*
There can be little doubt that the consideration of
these consequences upon such a step frightens many
a novice, and many a professed "religieuse" too, from
the attempt to liberate herself from the durance in
which she is held and the evils to which she is exposed. Whenever the courage of a poor recluse is
summoned to so desperate an effort, the entire Catholic community seem actuated by one mind and puipose to denounce and persecute her. The case is prejudged before she can utter a syllable in her own defense. The assertions of those from whose thraldom
she has escaped to those to whom she has fled, and
whose interest it must be to conceal and misconstrue,
are implicitly and blindly believed, while no credit is
given to her own declarations. A malignant pleasure
seems to be found in holding her up as an object for
public scorn, in blasting the character and prospects
of an innocent girl, simply because, shuddering and revolting at the fate to which she was doomed, she could
not remain a willing or a passive victim. Nay, even
some Protestants-to their shame be it spoken-from
motives of personal regard, or from interested considerations, do not hesitate to lend their free voices to this
combination of priests, superiors, and a bigoted laity,
* Priests' Prisons for Women, in Twelve Letters.  By Andrew B.
Cross. Baltimore, 1854.
L
241
I 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
in their unpardonable work of malice and uncharitableness.
As a matter of course, I have not escaped such an
ordeal. As soon as my departure from St. Joseph's
became known, these efforts were commenced, and
they have been continued, in various forms, up to the
present time. Having in the preceding narrative told,
with all candor, the incidents and motives of my entering the institution, my experience while residing
there, and the reasons that compelled me to leave it
by stealth, I shall now have to narrate a series of'injurious and groundless attacks, brought upon me by
that step.
242 
PRIEST O'DONNELL.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
PRIEST O'DONNELL.
THE first onset was made by a meddlesome priest,
residing many hundred miles from the locality, who
could not resist the tempting opportunity afforded him
to display his zeal in behalf of this cherished system
of the Romish clergy. The following is a copy of his
published letter on the subject:
"Portland, November 25th, 1854.
"1 MR. EDITOR:
"DEAR SIR,-My attention has been directed this
morning to an extract in your paper from a dispatch
from Baltimore. It is not my wish to censure you
for the paragraph. Probably you had the pleasure to
read it for the first time in this morning's edition. I
have no other expression for the writer than that of
sympathy; for the man who knowingly circulates false
rumors to gratify the marvelous appetite is in much
need of public sympathy. Such rumors, however, are
easily removed in the locality where they originated,
but not so abroad.
"The statements are easily made and readily believed; an impression is forthwith made in accordance
with the statement, most generally of prejudice and
hostility against the calumniated, and there is evident
243 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ly no manifest desire to suppress the falsehood and circulate the truth. The paper which receives the credit
of announcing the singular accident, phenomenon, or
marvelous escape, sometimes retracts and makes the
amende honorable, while other papers, equally responsible to the public, ignore the refutation. I hope,
therefore, that my present intention shall not be misconstrued or regarded in an unfriendly spirit, and that
the explanation, if satisfactory, will benefit the jouLrnals who hold guardianship over Catholics and their
doctrine.
" The statement of a young lady nun is radically
false. A knowledge of the rules which govern the
house of the Sisters of Charity enables me to make
this unqualified statement.
"The house of the Sisters of Charity is known as
St. Joseph's, near Emmettsburg (not Emmettsbay).
There is generally a number of persons demanding admission. In order to secure a reception, they must
produce letters from responsible persons, vouching to
their good character, etc. They must bring sufficient
means to enable them to return home if the society
thinks them unfit, either in physical or mental qualifications, to discharge the hard, and, in many cases, repulsive duties of the order.  They spend the first two
years as postulants, take no vows, and are perfectly
free to leave the institution at any moment. There is
no necessity for scaling walls, crossing fields, and escaping during the stillness of the night. In a word,
any Catholic subject is perfectly free, as far as physical force is concerned, to follow the dictates of her
own will.
244 
PRIEST' O'DONNELL.
"The case wvithl scholars is quite different.   They
are placed under the care of the Sisters of Charity by
their parents, to whom the sisters are accountable.
The rules of the institution are read by all the scholars, and all who enter must abide by the rules.  The
young ladies are not permitted to leave the ground or
fixed bound, to make visits, to receive or send letters
from the institution without examination; in a word,
they are constantly under the eye of their teachers.
Hence they have no claim on the institution other than
an education, an equivalent for their pension. At the
end of the school term they can go home, to a friend's,
to spend the vacation, or remain and pay their board
during the vacation, and are confined to the rules prescribed by the parents.
"It sometimes happens that a young miss is sent by
parents to have her removed from a particular circle
of society. A romantic, novel-reading girl soon becomes restless under school restriction. A love-engagement or some romantic adventure will urge her to
invent means to escape the care and vigilance of her
teachers.   Her object is soon accomplished;  the sisters are in trouble for the truant girl and her disappointed parents; the papers enjoy a holiday on the
first intimation of a hairbreadth escape of a nun from
a Catholic convent, and the gratified public sleep
soundly, well satisfied that, at least in this happy republic, liberty of conscience will be proclaimed by the
press, and enthroned in the hearts of the people.
"I hope, Mr. Editor, you will not consider any word
of the within personal. I assure you it is not so intended. My aim is not so much to teach in your pa
2 4 1") 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
per, or in any other, but simply to state facts which
are known to me, and seemingly unknown to you and
others.                           J. O'DONNELL."
Any formal reply to this effusion is entirely unnecessait.  The reverend writer is evidently a "swift
witness," and would, if called upon, perhaps, be willing to swear to any thing to protect the interests of
"3Iother Church."   He pronounces "the statement
of c6 young lady nun" to be "I adically false," even
before she had made a statement, and says he is enabled to do so "from a knowledge of the rules which
govern the house of the Sisters of Charity." If such
evidence as this were allowed, where would there be
found protection for any subject of a system of government and discipline?  Does the existence of a set
of rules always and necessarily imply their observance,
and especially in a community whose religion inculcates the doctrine that "the end sanctifies the means?"
Why, this is the very question at issue. If the regulations, as published, were carried out, there would, of
course, be no necessity for an escape. A child can see
this as well as the Rev. J. O'Donnell. Hiis letter is
unworthy of consideration; but the Mother Superior
of St. Joseph's has also published an epistle, which is
so ingeniously worded, and carries such an air of truthfulness, that it is well calculated to deceive.
246
I 
THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER.
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER.
TO THE EDITOR OF " THE CITIZEN."
"St. Joseph's, near Emmettsburg, December 1st, 1854.
"SIR,-As numerous misrepresentations have appeared in the public prints in relation to Miss Josephine Bunkley's connection with and departure from
our institution, I have, from a sense of duty, though
with very great reluctance, concluded to communicate
to you for publication the following statement of facts,
exhibiting the exact truth of the matter.
"About two years ago, Miss Bunkley, of her own
accord, came here, and made a spiritual retreat, that
is, spent some days in meditation and prayer. She
then expressed an ardent desire to become a Sister of
Charity-a member of our society. As she was yet
young, and a convert to the Catholic faith, she was
required to take time for mature consideration, and
was not received. One year after this she again applied by letter to be admitted as a candidate, and was
authorized to come here on trial. She accordingly
entered the novitiate, as others always do, to try her
vocation, perfectly free to leave us at any hour or on
any day she might please to select, and with the express and often-repeated assurance given her by us,
247 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
that she would do wrong to stay with us unless she
did so freely, and from the conviction that she was doing the will of God and seeking her own happiness by
remaining.
"During the ten months that she was with us she
not only appeared happy, but constantly professed to
be so, and thus continued to express herself up to the
very eve of her departure. Every one who knows any
thing of us at all, knows that she had only to say the
word, and she could have left us without difficulty and
in a becoming manner at any time she pleased. Many
novices have left us after trying their vocation here,
who can testify how readily and cheerfully they were
aided by us in departing. Many who wished to stay
have been induced by us to go when we were satisfied
that they were not called by Providence to the hardships and sacrifices of a religious life.
"The statement put forth that letters written to
Miss Bunkley by her father and others of her family
were withheld from her, or returned to the writers, is
altogether untrue; they were invariably delivered to
her. Her letters to her family or friends were always
sent as addressed. On one occasion only, when, after
her many professions of her desire to spend her life as
a Sister of Charity, she spoke in a letter to her father
of spending six months at St. Joseph's, I asked her
meaning, and she replied that' she did not wish her
father to know of her intention to become a sister,
though he suspected it.'  I then told her' not to deceive her father; that God would not bless her undertaking if she did;' and I advised her to write the let-:
ter over again. She did so, and the letter was sent.
248 
THE MAOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER.
I can not now remember whether she took the first
letter back, or left it with me to be destroyed. This,
I presume, is the incident which has been perverted
into a charge against us that we destroyed her letters
to her father, written to inform him of her unhappiness
at St. Joseph's and desire to leave.
" liss B.'s extraordinary mode of leaving our house
was as unnecessary as it was surprising. She could
have left at any hour of the dclay, and by the front
door. There was no occasion to leave at night or
through a window; for, though the doors, as of every
private dwelling, are locked to keep out intruders, the
keys are never removed from them. She had no reason to hide behind a tree, as no one observed her going, and no one would have stopped her even if she
had been noticed. I should think it is almost superfluous to add that she was not pursued after her departure became known. B1iss B. left here on Thursday morning, the 9th ultimo, before day. On the
morning after, I wrote by mail to her father, at Norfolk, informing him of her departure. On the following Saturday, the overseer of our farm went to Creagerstown, and brought back a note from her asking for
her trunk, clothes, two watches, and the money which
shle had on deposit with our treasurer, amounting to
$2 62 1. No one, in the mean time, had gone after her.
No one asked her to come back. It was only on the
'1londay of the next week that two of our sisters went
to Creagerstown, and, without seeing her, delivered
the above-named articles and obtained her wvritten ac knowledgment of their receipt.
"There are two other inaccuracies, asserted or im                         LJ 2
249 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
plied, in the various statements, in this county and
elsewhere, in regard to this affair, which I may as well
now notice, once and for all.
"It is utterly untrue that 3Iiss B. was in any manner solicited or persuaded to enter our community; on
the contrary, she was put off for a year when she applied, and was afterward admitted only on trial at her
own earnest solicitation.   It is equally untrue that
her trunk, clothing, jewelry, etc., were demanded of
her when she first entered the institution.  They were
subject to her order on any day she might choose to
leave us. It is also untrue that she ever expressed
to me the desire to return home, neither have I heard
at any time from any one of our sisters that she ever
expressed such a desire to her. It is likewise untrue
that she ever, with our knowledge, wrote, or desired to
write, to that effect to her father or any one else; and
it is the purest fiction that she was ever commanded
to take her seat and write to her father or to any other person under our dictation. Every sister and novice, here or elsewhere, attached to our community, is
not only free to leave us, but is urged by us to go
whenever she may think it her duty to do so, and it is
well known to the public that, even when the novice
becomes a sister, she takes her vows but for a single
year, and at its close is free to renew them or not, as
she may judge proper. Those who have chosen to
avail themselves of this alternative have never been
impeded or molested in the exercise of their free will,
but, on the contrary, pen, ink, and paper to write to
their friends, the public coach, and money to pay the'
fGre, are always at the disposal of any one inclined to
250 
THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER.
withdraw. The members of our society are indeed
told that, if they desire to be of our number, they
must keep our rules, and in that sense give up their
own will, but whoever wills to leave is as free as air.
"Miss B.'s clandestine departure may throw a romantic coloring around the matter, but it can in no
way reflect discreditably upon this institution, nor
make a case contrary to plain facts. I have been informed that Miss B. herself, during her stay in Creagerstown, bore testimony to the truth of more than I
have said here respecting her kind treatment and freedom from duress or restriction while she resided at
St. Joseph's.
"One word upon the general question.   Our sisters
have fathers and brothers. We invite them to come and
examine if they find their sisters and daughters anxious
to leave, or in the least degree unhappy on account of
the state of life which they have adopted. Fathers
and brothers, relations of every degree, and friends,
do come, have always been in the habit of coming.
They have free access to their friends who are members of our community. Is it not strange, then, that
such a system as has been charged against us could
exist for a year or a month? A large number of our
community are scattered over the whole United States,
are constantly traveling from city to city in public conveyances, and are regularly doing duty as nurses and
attendants in the public hospitals and asylums of the
country. Can it be believed that they are unable to find
means of escape, or of communicating with their friends
at home?  Moreover, in our school here we have nu merous Protestant young ladies who are in daily in
251 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
tercourse with the sisters.  These young ladies are
constantly visited by their parents and friends, and go
home to spend their vacations. They certainly could
be made the medium of communication between any
sister and her friends, if there were such occasion for
it as has been represented by our assailants. The
fact that no such instance has ever occurred is sufficient proof that it has never been necessary.
"Finally, it has been stated that sisters have died
here'by inches' -wasting in slow despair.   This
most charitable assertion is intended to create in the
public mind the suspicion or belief that they were the
victims of a cruel imprisonment. I have already disposed of this calumny, but I will be excused for adding that it is indeed most true that several sisters have
died here during the last and preceding years, and it
is quite probable that others will follow them. Consumption, slow and rapid, brought on by their arduous labors and nightly watchings at the death-beds of
poor men and women, of every clime and of every
creed, in the hospitals of the country, has indeed carried off many Sisters of Charity, and will no doubt
continue to do its work of death. They go from this
their home in the fullness of health, on their missions
of mercy, and when they return it is sometimes only
to die. If this is matter of reproach, we have no reply to make. If this provokes the taunt of the assailant and feeds the uncharitable, we have only to submit in patience and humility, as far as our weak nature may enable us, in feeble imitation of the example
of our divine Mlaster, the Lord Jesus.
"S. il. ETIXENNE HTLi Al.     S, of St. Josep)h's,
252 
REPLY TO THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER. 253
CHAPTER L.
REPLY TO THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER.
THE foregoing letter, of which it was said, on its
first appearance, that "the public will discern in this
production the mind and Jesuitical craft of the priestly
polemic rather than the gushing sentiment of woman's
charity," makes a direct issue of veracity between the
Mlother Superior and myself.   As to some of the dis
crepancies involved in our respective statements, the
public must decide on the bare assertion of each; but
on the principal question-the right of voluntary departure-to which all the rest are subordinate, I hope
to be able to satisfy every unprejudiced mind that this
right is a "myth"  a mere abstraction purposed to
deceive-a promise to be kept or denied, as may be
deemed expedient and politic.
Though, in the preceding pages, I have narrated
candidly and fairly the circumstances and impressions
connected with my residence at St. Joseph's, I can not,
perhaps, reasonably expect a stranger to place greater
confidence in my assertions, if unsupported, than in
those of the Superior. Hence, before I proceed, let
me invite the impartial attention of my readers to what
may be styled the "presumptive evidence" of the case. 
Let it be remembered that the community of" Sis.
.,di 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ters of Charity" is one of the most attractive and efficient institutions in the Roman Catholic Church, doing more than any other to engage the interest and
approval of those outside of her limits, and make proselytes to her communion. It has already become a very
powerful organization. In this country alone, besides
the MIother-House, it embraces forty-one "missions,"
which have their centre at Emmettsburg, but arc
disseminated over the broad extent of these United
States. Under the superintendence of these institutions there are eighteen female orphan asylums,
twenty-six schools, and several hospitals, in which six
thousand patients are attended in the year. This organization is controlled by the priests; and by its
ostentatious charities, and its assumed virtues, and
through the instrumentality of its numerous schools,
it exerts a vast influence. From their mode of life,
the secresy of their endeavors to promote the interests
of their Church, and their devotion to the work of education, the Sisters of Charity have not inappropriately been termed the "Female Jesuits."  When the importance and power of this community are duly estimated, it will be clearly seen how momentous an object it becomes at all hazards to preserve its reputation unsullied; and when, moreover, it is remembered that the doctrine of " mental reservation" is taught
and justified by the Jesuits and other orders in the
Papal Church-a doctrine which permits and recommends the utterance of a falsehood to promote the interests of "religion" - the presumption, to say the
least, of a strong inducement to enforce obedience by
the exercise of a power which lies in the hands of
254 
REPLY TO THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER. 255
those interested in the accomplishment of that design
is plainly made out.*
* The vows taken by the Sisters of Charity are of the same nature
with those assumed in the various orders of nuns. The distinction is
with regard to the period during which these vows continue binding.
In the monastic orders it is for life; in the sisterhood for a stated
term; but, as the preceding narrative has shown, the renewal of these
vows at the expiration of that term is performed while in the institution, and as a matter of course; and the duty of obedience is in force
to require the immediate resumption of the obligations just expired.
There is no interval of emancipation; so that the difference between
this community and that of a "close convent" is simply nominal, or
consists in a formal and periodical repetition of the solemn promises
made at the outset.
But, apart from this consideration, it will be borne in mind that the
vows themselves, pledging the individual to poverty, chastity, and obedience, are identically the same, whether taken for a longer or a shorter time. The obligation of a strict, blind, absolute, unhesitating obedience to an arbitrary authority weighs upon the Sister of Charity just
as heavily as upon the recluse of a nunnery.  And what is the degree
of freedom for the exercise of a choice of continued servitude afforded
to the inmates of convents in our own day and among our own people 7. We shall not simply take the attestation of all intelligent observers, who know that bolts, and bars, and gratings, and high walls
are the invariable and essential characteristics of those institutions,
wherever they exist in our towns and cities; we shall not content
ourselves with recalling the numerous, and notorious, and well-authenticated cases of escape, whether attempted or accomplished, from these
high walls, and bolted doors, and grated windows of the nunneries of
America and England; we shall quote the clear, distinct, unanswerable words of a Roman Catholic author, a saint canonized only a few
years since, the founder of a religious order, whose work, entitled The
Nun Sanctified, is the text-book of convents-whose entire writings,
according to a recent Roman Catholic author, were more than twenty
times rigorously discussed by the sacred congregation of rites, which
decreed that not one word in them had been found worthy of censure;
and we shall quote from an edition published at Dublin in the year
1848, for the use of English nuns and postulants. Hear, then, what
ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI says of the "freedom" of those under relig ious vows:
ik 
MISS BUNKLEY?S BOOK.
On the other hand, I would ask, in the name of
charity and sound reason, can any plausible motive be
"It is true that even in the cloisters there are some.... who do
not live as religious ought to live. To be a good religious and to be content are one and the same thing..... I have been accustomed to say
that a religious in her convent enjoys a foretaste of paradise, OR SUFFERS AN ANTICIPATION OF HELL.  To endure the pains of hell is to be
separated from God; TO BE FORCED AGAINST THE INCLINATIONS OF NATURE to do the will of others; to be distrusted, despised, reproved, AND
CHASTISED by those with whom we live; TO BE SHUT UP IN A PLACE OF
CONFINEMENT FROM WHICH IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO ESCAPE; in a word, it
is to be in continual tortuire, without a moment's peace!"
Elsewhere the language of this saint is, if possible, even more explicit. Under the head of " What ought a person to do who finds that
she has become a nun against her inclination?" he says-not, as the
Mother Superior of St. Joseph's would have us understand, that in such
a case the sister may open the door of her convent and go forth-but,
"Perhaps you will tell me you can never have peace, because you
find that you have entered religion [i.e., become a nun] to please your
parents, and against your own will. I answer thus: If at the time of
your profession you had not a vocation, I would not have advised you
to make the vows of a religious, but I would have advised you to suspend your resolution of going back to the world, and casting yourself
into the many dangers of perdition which are found in the world. I
now see you placed in the house of God, and made (either voluntarily
or unwillingly) the spouse of Jesus Christ. For my part, I can not
pity you more than I could pity a person who had been transported
(even against his will) from a place infected with pestilence and surrounded by enemies, to a healthful country, to be placed there for life,
secure against every foe.
"I add, grant that what you say is true: now that you are professed
in a convent, and that it is IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO LEAVE IT, tell me,
what do you wish to do?  If you have entered religion [i.e., become
a nun] against your inclination, you must now remain with cheerfulness. 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 then make a virtue of necessity; and
if the devil has brought you into religion [i.e., a nunnery] for your de- -
struction, let it be your care to avail yourself of your holy state for your
salvation, and to become a saint. Give yourself up to God from the
256 
REPLY TO THE MOTHER SUPERIOR'S LETTER. 257
assigned why I should escape from the institution at
a risk of detection and punishment, and travel ten
heart, and I assure you that by so doing you shall become more content than all the princesses and queens of this world. Being asked his
opinion regarding a person who had become a nun against her will, St.
Francis de Sales answered:' It is true that this child, if she had not
been obliged by her parents, would not have left the world; but this
is of little importance, provided she knows that the force employed by
her parents is more useful to her than the permission to follow her
own will. For now she can say, If I had.not lost such liberty, I should
have lost true liberty.' The saint meant to say, that, had she not been
compelled by her parents to become a nun, her liberty, which would
have induced her to remain in the world, would have robbed her of the
true liberty of the children of God, which consists in freedom from the
chains and dangers of this world."-P. 26, 549-551.
Here, then, is the Mother Superior of St. Joseph's directly at issue,
not only with Liguori, but with the friend of the founder of her own
order, the holy Francis de Sales! Perhaps, however, the statements are
reconcilable. The Mother Superior is speaking to a Protestant world,
outside the walls.   To them she says, Don't believe these stories
about forced seclusion, and all that; there is perfect liberty here; whoever wills to leave is as free as air. But to the poor prisoners inside
she would doubtless agree with the saint in reasoning, You must make
a virtue of necessity; IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO LEAVE!
With regard to those members of the sisterhood who, having finish ed their probation, are sent out into the world on their errands of pros elytism in hospitals and private houses, there is no one that ques tions their voluntary adherence to the order whose interests they are
serving; nor does any one doubt that there are, in the mother-house
itself, a large proportion, if not a majority of members, whose choice
it is, from whatever motive, to remain in their position. But will
this liberty, granted to some, be alleged in proof that others, who
are confessedly under restraint, are also in the exercise of their free
choice? Does this invalidate the testimony of numerous and unim peachable witnesses, who, having fled in fear and trembling from op pression and imprisonment, assert and declare what they have both
seen and heard for themselves l Let an unprejudiced public decide.
For what purpose, we would ask and reiterate, are such precautions
taken against the escape of persons immured in these convents and
other religious houses? What signify these tremendous vows, this 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
miles on an unknown road, exposed to danger and
insult, if I enjoyed the privilege of departure at free
choice? Until such a rational motive be adduced, is
there not a fair presumption, at least, that I have
spoken the truth?
surrender of will, these gratings and bars, these prison-like inclosures?
If there is freedom, why these semblances of restraint? Why oppose
the just demand of a people jealous, for themselves and their daughters,
of that sacred right of personal liberty for all guiltless of crime, in the
purchase of which their fathers poured out their life's blood? Why
refuse to "bring the prisoners out from the prison;" they that are
"snared and hid in prison-houses;" that are there "for a prey, and
none delivereth; for a spoil, and none saith, Restore."
As for the facilities enjoyed by parents and relatives in communicating with the inmates of religious institutions, we shall examine this
point at large in another chapter.
258 
OTHER FUGITIVES FROM ST. JOSEPH'S.
CHAPTER LI.
OTHER FUGITIVES FROM ST. JOSEPH'S.
THE Mother Superior, in her letter, endeavors to
make it appear that no effort was made after my escape to recapture me, and very adroitly suppresses certain facts in order to leave this impression. I shall
attempt to show how much truth there is in this statement, and account for the fact that the pursuit was not
successful.
I have already said that it was not a "class-day"
when I escaped. By this I mean that the teachers or
class-sisters were not required to be on duty in the
academy upon that day, which was Thursday-a day
of recreation for the boarders. I had chosen this day
as the most suitable, to avoid an early discovery. If
missed at the novitiate in the morning, it would be
supposed that I was in the infirmary; and, on the contrary, if missed in the infirmary, it would be presumed
that I was in the novitiate. Such, doubtless, was the
case; for, as I afterward learned, my absence was not
detected until just before night prayers.
Now, on the supposition that the overseer was sent
the next morning to the convent at Frederick in search
of me-a distance of twenty-two miles-it is evident
that he could not well have returned to St. Joseph's,
259 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOIK.
stopping by the way at Creagerstown, before Saturday.
On his way through Creagerstown, in going, he inquired if I was at the hotel, and was answered in the
negative. On his return, he again stopped to make inquiry, insisting that I must be there, and demanding
to see me. The proprietor brought the message to me,
and I consented to an interview. This was, I think,
on Saturday afternoon; and I should add that the man
was intoxicated. Yet the Mother Superior says that
"no one, in the mean time, had gone after" me, and
again, that "no one asked [me] to come back." It is
clear, under these circumstances, that the two sisters
who came on the following Monday could not possibly
have done so earlier, as they would not have come on
Sunday, and were not made aware of my locality until
the Saturday evening subsequent to my escape.
It will be seen, from what I have stated elsewhere,
that some postulants are sent away from the institution, and this for obvious reasons-the lack of requisites, as wealth or expectation of property, talent
above mediocrity, beauty, education, accomplishments,
or the possession of some traits of character which
render them unfit for the purposes of the community.
Of such, and such only, can it be said with truth that
they are "urged to go."
The Mother Superior states that "every sister or
novice here or elsewhere attached to our community is
not only free to leave us, but is urged by us to go
whenever she may think it her duty to do so." If
this be true, it is scarcely credible that a single inmate, for the sake of mere notoriety, should confront
the danger and shame of a stealthy departure rather
260 
OTHER FUGITIVES FROM3 ST. JOSEPH'S.  261
than make a peaceful and permitted egress from the
institution.  But the case is not a solitary one.  There
are a sufficient number of cases to prove, beyond the
doubt of the unbiased, that restraint is exercised in
the matter.
In the month of June, 1853, a novice who had escaped from St. Joseph's was pursued and caught on
the farm of 3Ir. John Dorsey, four miles south of Emmettsburg, on the main road leading to Frederick City.
Her pursuers were two "sisters," who traveled in a
carriage. When the poor fugitive recognized them,
she left the road and endeavored to escape through a
field of wheat; but, leaping from the vehicle, the sisters overtook her, and, seizing her by the arms, led her
to the carriage, placed her in it, and drove back to the
institution.   This much, which can be proved in a
court of justice, is all that is known of the occurrence.
What was the destiny of this unhappy girl is a mystery probably never to be solved.
The following letter concerning the escape of another novice speaks for itself. The writer is an intelligent Presbyterian clergyman of high character in Emmettsburg. The communication was made to a friend
who made inquiry relative to the circumstance.
"Emmettsburg, February 21, 1853.
" DEAP  SiR,-The questions you ask with respect
to the young lady who eloped from St. Joseph's and
came to my house I answer thus:
"She called herself Helen O'Here, O'Here being
the name of her mother's present husband.   Her true 
name, she said, was Grier. She was a novice, and had 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
been raised at Albany, New York. - If not born in
Ireland, she was of Irish extraction. She was at my
house for two or three weeks. She left St. Joseph's,
not abjuring the Catholic faith, but because at the
institution she was oppressed with unusual labor, and
had, as she said, no time for devotion, the priest often
assuring her and her co-operatives that this labor, honestly performed, would be as acceptable as their prayers. She entered as a novice, under the impression
that this place was, indeed, the centre of holy influences, and that nowhere else could she serve her Maker
with such entire self-consecration; but (as she said)
SHE FOUND NOTHING  LIKE RELIGION THERE.  I asked
her but few questions, but she spoke with much freedom, and sometimes, I thought, with intemperate ardor. I heard her assert that' if continuing to be a
"Sister of Charity" would certainly take her to heaven, she would not consent,' so decided was her disgust
with what she had seen and passed through.
"She was accompanied on her return to Albany by
MZr. J., who resides in the State of Vermont, and who
kindly took charge of her. Dr. A. and Mr. D. G. advanced the necessary funds, the amount of which was
shortly returned.
"She never said she was not a Catholic, and she is
at this time with her mother in Albany.
"Very possibly, all these statements she may, under certain influences, say are false.
"R. S. GRIER.
"Rev. G. W. A."
262
i., 
OTHER FUGITIVES FROM ST. JOSEPH'S.   263
The reader will note the peculiar features of the case
here stated.  Helen O'Here was evidently brought up
in the Roman Catholic Church, and was averse to divulge the true reasons for her escape. The causes alleged by her are not sufficient to account for the strong
and decided expressions of disgust and aversion uttered by her in reference to the institution.
I might confidently rest my case here, the chief assertion of the Mother Superior having been clearly disproved —-that, namely, of the entire liberty of all the
inmates of the institution to depart at pleasure. Little reliance can be placed upon the assertions connected with such an utter distortion of facts; but I desire
to notice a few additional passages in the letter, and
shall consider them in as brief a manner as possible. 
IMISS BUNKLLY'S BOOK.
CHAPTER LII.
REPLY CONTINUED.
"DURING the ten months that she was with us, she
not only appeared happy, but constantly professed to
be so, and thus continued to express herself up to the
very eve of her departure."
The motives that compelled me to conceal my discontent and sorrow while a member of the community
I have already stated. The slightest murmur of dissatisfaction or complaint was sure to be visited with
punishment. This I had learned by experience as
well as observation, and hence my silence, my dissimulation, if any choose to call it so. The situation was
a trying one, and the views and feelings peculiar to it
should not be harshly judged by one who has never
been placed in the same position of distress and apprehension. One thought alone might influence to
such a concealment, and that is the fear of being transferred at any time to a distant and strange locality,
when all hope of relief would be given up. With this
anxiety weighing upon her mind, and the superadded
dread of present punishment, who can blame a timid
and unprotected woman for dissembling her true state
of mind?
With respect to the account given of my letter to
264 
REPLY CONTINUED.
my friends, it will be perceived that the only material
difference between that and my own statement lies in
the motive alleged. Thefact that a letter was written by me to my father, announcing my intention to
spend only six months at the institution-that it was
read by the Superior and disapproved of, and that the
writing of another letter was procured, is admitted;
but this fact is distorted by the extraordinary assertion that I wished to deceive my Satker. Is this to
be believed? Why should I wish to practice this deception. Far from it. I was chiefly anxious to confess my error, to tell him of my sad disappointment,
to acquaint him with my change of views.
But if, as the Superior states, letters from members
of the community are always sent as addressed, and
"pen, ink, and paper to write to their fiiends are always at the disposal of any one inclined to withdraw,"
how came it that she read tais letter of mine?  TFy
was it not forwarded without examination?
I might thus continue to examine, seriatim, the several statements composing this ingenious document,
but I can not think this necessary. At all events,
having, in the preceding pages, told my unvarnished
story, I can do no more than reiterate. Let me only
add, that this "freedom to depart at will" is a mere
fiction for the uninitiated. It is well known who can
be trusted and who must be watched. Suppose, how ever, that such a rule exists, to the effect that all who
wish to do so are at liberty to depart. It may be
doubted whether many would leave the institution
even openly and by daylight, without means, friends, or a knowledge of the locality, and throw themselves
M
265 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
upon strangers, with the certainty, too, that their character would be assailed. But suppose that one should
summon the resolution to make the attempt. Pretexts and means would most unquestionably be found
speedily enough to detain her. Those, on the other
hand, who have no desire to leave, would, if asked,
promptly reply that "they could go home if they
chose."  But let them grow discontented and try it!
They would find it a promise made only to the ear.
266 
ANONYMOUS ATTACKS.
CHAPTER LIII.
ANONYMOUS ATTACKS.
IN addition to the letters which I have thus noticed,
there have been made various allegations and insinuations of a baser kind. Some of these are ridiculous, involving my mental sanity, etc.; others, more
malignant, accusing me of willful falsehood and deception.  Those who  know me can decide upon these
charges. Vulgar and threatening letters, from sources
unknown, have also reached me, the contents of which
were of a nature to provoke only contempt and disgust. That the public may judge of these effusions,
I subjoin copies of two, written, evidently, in a disguised hand, and by the same person, whom I suppose
to be a priest, whose signature, however, can not be
made out. Both are post-marked Baltimore, one bearing date January 23d, and the other March 16th, but
the inside contains neither place nor date.
"MISS BUNKLEY,-It is announced in the' Frederick Examiner,' and copied into the Baltimore papers
of this morning, that you are engaged in writing a
work for publication regarding your disgraceful conduct at St. Joseph's, Emmettsburg.
"As it appears to be your intention to gain a little
267 
iNMISS BUNKLEY S BOOK.
notoriety, your situation is any thing but an (un)enviacble one. The notorious Maria Monk, who published, a few years since,'Awful Disclosures,' and was
backed by a host of idle vagabonds-Protestant preachers (who are now, we learn, engaged in the same
dirty work with you at Norfolk), was confined in the
New York City Prison, where she had been sent as a
common vagabond, thief, and open prostitute, and died
there. The public, having been humbugged so often
by such lying tales, will not soon again encourage any
similar work.  Do you understandthat!!!  And you
may inform the Protestant preachers, who are now gulling you, that their efforts will be all in vain. Come,
now, no lies; give us the truth, and give us the names
and residences of the editors all over the Union that
have made offers unprecedented for a narrative of your
life.  IHa! you are caught in your own trap, eh! Oh
shame! shame!! shame!!!  When your work appears, I will give you and your fellow co-laborers such
a basting through the public'press as will make you
shed almost tears of blood, as I know something about
you. So look out! publish the work, now, if you dare.
Send this to the editor of that vile sheet, the Frederick
Examrniner.           Your very obedient servant."
So much for No. 1, whose threatened excoriation
and denunciation of the "Protestant preachers," the
"Frederick Examiner," and my humble self, judging
from the above classic and scathing epistle, are doubtless tremblingly anticipated by all the objects of the
writer's wrath.  No. 2 is still more refined, delectable,
and overwhelming.
268 
ANONYMOUS ATTACKS.
- MIiss BUNKLEY,-I inclose you a letter, publishcd in last Saturday's' Catholic Mirror,' for your information, and in order that you may know what a
very pretty notoriety you may have obtained throughout the land-another' Maria Mlonk'-a new authoress of' Awful Developments'-' Two Years in a Convent.'  Hiow much money have you received from the
many and numerous letters you have received from
editors and publishers in every part of the Union!!!
Bah! when you do utter falsehoods, you know how to
utter a good one. Bah! you common ass! all you
want is that animal's long ears, his tail, and hoofs, to
make a complete ass of yourself. You put out a
work!! That you are unable to do. The miserable
wretches of preachers who have been with you may
indeed publish a second edition of' Maria Monk,' who
died in New York City Prison in September, 1839,
where she had been confined as a common prostitute,
a common drunkard, andc a common thief. Why did
not those preachers fly to her aid, to rescue her from
so vile an end? This is the miserable end of all who
attack the Church founded and established by Jesus
Christ, and, as He says,' the gates of hell shall never
prevail.'  Oh! when your death-bed scene comes, how
will your tune be altered.' You shall call upon me,'
says our Lord,' and you shall not find me, and you
shall die in your sins.' I have been waiting a long
time now for your work; come, come, let the public
have it. But I can assure you, I stand ready to put
the dissecting-knife over it in a manner you little
dream of-so now beware!                 Yours, etc."
269 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
Accompanying this precious effusion was a document from the Uatholic.firror, purporting to be a
letter from a personage who signs himself "J. J. E.
N.," and speaking of my escape from St. Joseph's. It
contains little else than a repetition of what the Mother Superior had said before. The initials appended to
this article I recognized as those of a Catholic priest,
named Norman, who has an elderly sister at the institution, and whose visits, of course, are eagerly welcomed. I recollect perfectly the circumstances of a
visit made by him during my stay at St. Joseph's, and
the pains taken to render it agreeable. The article,
however, contains no intimation that its author was a
priest-one of a class whose interests and purposes
are well subserved by lavishing praises on these institutions, these "priests' prisons for women," as they
have been not inaptly styled by an eloquent and fearless writer.
270 
THIIE ALTIIOR'S DESIGN.
CHAPTER LIV.
THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN.
THE public mind has begun to appreciate, with some
degree of correctness, the evil influence of monastic establishments, and those of a kindred character. It
has, at least, commenced to perceive the anomaly of
such a system of personal restraint and forced obedience in a land of fiee institutions and liberal principles. Jesuitism, in its worst phase, is now the conservative power of the Roman Catholic Church, compelled, in self-preservation, a second time to appeal to
the order of Loyola for aid and defense. The United
States teem with these intriguing priests, as well as
with their confederates, the "Jesuits of the short
robe," or lay Jesuits, among whom even women are
numbered. Convents and religious communities, such
as those of the "Sisters of Charity" and the "Sisters
of llercy," are among their chief instrumentalities to
promote the ends of the papacy. The most strenuous
efforts are made, in every variety of mode, to augment
the numbers and swell the resources of these institutions, and hence the alacrity and energy with which
so many protectors rush to their vindication when it is
threatened to reveal the truth concerning them. Nor
is it always the case that exertions to secure fresh vic
271 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
tims are confined to the use of persuasion and advice,
but physical assistance can be tendered to convey
those whom circumstances might prevent from following the desired course to the place of confinement.
There is a married lady residing in the vicinity of St.
Joseph's who has been known to take young girls, in
the absence of their parents, without the consent of
their natural protectors, and despite their known wishes, and remove them to that institution and to the
convent in Frederick. I have in my possession the
names of the parties, and can, if necessary, give proof
of the occurrences.
If, by my simple narration of facts, I shall succeed
in communicating a salutary caution to enthusiastic
and innocent girls, who, by devout and blissful pictures of a "religious" state, artfully presented to their
minds, may have been led to entertain the thought of
becoming members of a convent, or an institution of
similar nature, I shall have reached my utmost aim.
For such I entertain the warmest sympathly, and the
kindest appreciation of their motives and desires. But
I would, God helping me, preserve them, if it be possible, from suffering, sorrow, and, it may be, moral
death. He who reads the heart knows the purity of
my intention and the truth of my declarations.
272 
INTERVIEWS WITH MY CONFESSOI.     2
CHAPTER LV.
INTERVIEWS WITH MIY CONFESSOR.
I HAVE only, in conclusion, to relate one of the attempts made to bring me back within the possession
of my enemies, and into the pale of the Church of
Rome. To do this understandingly, reference must
be made to the period of my entrance upon convent
life.
When on my way to St. Joseph's, to enter as a postulant at that institution, I wrote to my confessor,
the Rev., of Norfolk, and acquainted him with
the determination at which I had arrived, contrary,
however, to his own advice. My letter was mailed at
a small town between Baltimore and Emmettsburg. I
do not know that he ever received it. As I have elsewhere stated, I saw him at the institution. He was
not of the Order of Lazarists, and had often recommended me not to go to St. Joseph's.
Some months, however, subsequent to my entrance,
his sister was placedl there as a boarder. It was not
long before her health began to fail. I frequently saw
her in tears, and at times, when passing her, endeavored to learn the cause of her distress.  I noticed that
she was not treated with kindness by the community,
and on one occasion, when meeting her in the passage
:i 2
273 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
to the infirmary, whither she had been sent, she told
me of her unhappiness, of her desire to return, and how
she wished her brother might know how miserable she
was. Saying this, she burst into tears. A few weeks
passed, and I missed her from the academy entirely.
I learned that she had been again sent to the infirmary.
One day, passing by the library, I saw some one
sitting just behind the door, and, conjecturing that it
might be this young lady, I entered the room. I was
struck with her pale and emaciated appearance; and
she, too, remarked how altered I was. She thought
I must be unhappy, and said I should have taken her
brother's advice not to enter the institution. I dared
not, however, confide my real feelings to her. I had
often heard unkind remarks made respecting this young
person by the directress and others of the academy.
Her brother, hearing of her ill health, came to St.
Joseph's. I saw him, but had no opportunity of conversing with him without risk of being reported. After his departure she grew worse, and was sent to the
Baltimore infirmary. The directors and officers of the
community were much displeased because her brother
had not taken her away when he came, and I overheard one of them say that it was a piece of imposition, etc.
This priest visited me twice at my father's house,
the first time shortly after my escape. This call was
quite unexpected to me. I was seated, in company
with a young lady, in the parlor, at the piano, when
the Rev.       was announced.  I was both surprfised
and alarmed.  He entered, and, advancing toward me,
extended his hand, remarking "I am  happy to see
274 
INTERVIEWS WITH MY CONFESSOR.
you at home, Josephine." I answered hastily, "Are
you neally glad to see me at home?"   "I am," he repeated.  I told him that I regretted he had thought
it necessary to call, as my father would be much displeased to meet him or hear of his visit. IHe then
stated his object, which was to induce me to go to the
church to confession and to attend mass. I told
him it was impossible; that I would never again enter that Church; and, indeed, that there was a report
in circulation to the effect that if I should attempt to
enter it, I would be put out for scandalizing it. He
begged me to fear nothing of the sort; and assured me
that if any person should dare to touch me for such a
purpose, he would announce his displeasure from the
altar. Hie left, urging me to come to church, insist ing that he could not go without my promise, and as suring me that he would still continue to regard me
as a memberi of his flock.
In the course of this conversation I told him of the
treatment his sister had received at the institution,
and that I thought it would be well to send for her at
the Baltimore infirmary, as I knew she would be hap pier away from it.
On his second visit, two or three weeks after this
interview, I was alone. iHe remained half an hour.
HIe told me that he had come, thinking I was in trouble
in consequence of the Lady Superior's letter. He had
read it that very day, and considered it quite uncalled
for; he was sorry it had been written. As I had
made no charges against the institution publicly, there
could be no occasion for writing and publishing that
document. He again urged me to come to confession
275 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
and to attend mass. I answered that I had no wish
to do so, but that, even if I desired it, my father would
never permit me to enter his door again. iHe was
aware, I said, how strong had been his opposition
from the outset, and now it would be much stronger
than ever. I expressed the fear that my father would
be greatly displeased should he come home and find
him there.
During these remarks, when I refused to attend
mass, assigning, among other reasons, that my father
would not consent to my doing so, he exclaimed,
"Come, then-come with me now;  I will protect
you; I have a home for you; come with me!" It
was in the evening, just before twilight. I trembled
with agitation; my former attachments and predilections for the Roman Catholic Church rushed upon me
with such force that I feared for my own steadfastness
and my safety. I did not reply for some time: a conflict raged within my breast; but an earnest desire to
do my duty toward God and my conscience prevailed.  I hesitated, and reflected for a few moments, until my composure was regained and my former determination resumed.   I then said, faintly, "I can
not-I can not."  Hie rose from his seat, leaned
against the mantle, and seemed overwhelmed with disappointment.  He repeated, "I can not leave without
your promise to return to the Church." I told him
that could never be, and desired that he would not
come again. Then, laying his hand upon my arm, he
said, "Josephine, have I lost you?  Josephine, have
I lost you?  Have I lost a lamb from my fold?  Am
I no more to be your confessor?" As I made no re
276 
INTERVIEWS WITH MY CONFESSOR.
ply, he continued, "I am at least your friend, as I
have ever been; and when you are alone in the world,
I will be your friend, no matter what may happen.
Josephine, mark these words: Don't utter a syllable
of what I have said to you, either to a Catholic or to
a Protestant."  He finally made me promise that I
would reflect upon all that he had said, and write him
a letter; and assured me that, should I request it, he
would not come again. As hle was going toward the
door, he turned to me, saying, " How can I leave you
without your promise to come back to the Church?"
Then, reluctantly bidding me good evening, he withdrew.
I went to my room in a state of excitement impossible to describe, and that evening penned a letter with
a view to prevent another visit, being greatly intimidated by what had passed. Indeed, I feared that, had
he come again, I should have been lost.
In this letter, the details of which I can not now
accurately recall, I think I intimated to him that I re tained yet some attachment for the Roman Catholic
Church, and hoped once more, at some future time, to
kneel before the altar where I had passed so many
hours in silent but ecstatic contemplation. This let ter produced the desired effect. He did not call again.
The first visit of the priest soon became known in
the neighborhood, and a report was circulated, as I be lieve by himself, that I had sent my sister for him.
Thlis was untrue; I had no wish to see him, nor to be
urged to enter the Church again, although there yet
lingered in my mind something of those sentiments'
which had been assiduously cultivated for years by
277 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
priestly influence, and had not been completely dissipated even by those circumstances so calculated to remove them through which I had just passed.
Other attempts have been made to allure me back,
and repeated threats have been made to take me back
by force, but of these I shall not speak more fully. In
my own mind there remains no doubt of a deliberate
purpose to injure me, as well as to throw discredit
upon my testimony with regard to the institution of
St. Josephs.
278 
INSPECTION OF CONVENTS.
CONCLUSION.
BY THE EDITOR.
I. INSPECTION OF CONVENTS.
IN the year 1852, a movement was commenced in
Great Britain for the purpose of petitioning the legislative body of that country to provide in some manner for the placing of convents, and other institutions
of similar character, under legal inspection and control.
This object will be more fully gathered from the following document, circulated in England, and signed
by many thousand women, for presentation to Parliament:
"Your petitioners are deeply sensible of the blessings of civil and religious liberty enjoyed by the people of this country; but they regret to observe that
from one class of their fellow-subjects these blessings
are in a great measure withheld, in consequence of the
existence of the conventual system-a system altogether opposed to the pure and benevolent character
of the Gospel, and under which young and inexperienced females are immured in nunneries; denied the
privilege of free intercourse with their relatives and
friends; deprived of the profitable and wholesome discipline of social life, and exposed to concealed dangers;
from which unnatural restraint, if they should repent
of vows taken in ignorance or rashness, escape is al
279 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
most impossible. Your petitioners therefore entreat
your honorable House to pass such a measure as may
effectually open these establishments to regular inspection, so that no person may be received into, or detained in, or dismissed from them without the knowledge of the proper authorities."
It is not a little remarkable that a proposition of
this nature should have excited among the Roman
Catholics of Great Britain, under the instigation,
doubtless, of their priests, a storm of opposition and
abuse. Those who are conscious of the integrity of
their motives and the rectitude of their course do
not ordinarily shrink from an examination of either.
It might reasonably be imagined that a system so continually lauded to the skies as the perfection of purity
and sanctity on earth, could well afford to court the
scrutiny of the public. Deeds of light do not require
the darkness or the shade. An effort, however, to open
the nunneries of England to a legal inspection, for the
prevention of possible oppression or restraint, instead
of being hailed as a measure which would infallibly
add lustre to the virtues and attractions of those establishments, was denounced with every epithet of indignation and horror.  It was characterized as "the
grossest of insults;" "cowardly and wanton;" "a most
unmanly attempt to deprive these sisters of a security
which even the meanest slaves have insured to them."
It is difficult to see how the appointment of such a
committee of inspection, constituted as was proposed,
of an equal number of Roman Catholics and Protestants, could be regarded by intelligent laymen as in it-'
self so dreadful, and worthy of reprobation. But, on
280 
INSPECTION OF CONVENTS.
the other hand, it is more easy to perceive the motive
which may have actuated the priesthood of Rome in
making every imaginable effort to defeat the project.
The proposed measure involved no infringement of
the privilege of assuming religious vows, or living in
religious communities.   "If," as an able writer has
well said, "ladies choose to dress themselves in a monastic fashion black, white, and gray-with rosaries
and crucifixes, it may all seem to us extremely silly,
but we have no right to interfere, and any interference
would be an infringement of their civil and religious
rights. If ladies choose to live in lonely houses, with
ladies like themselves, and altogether secluded from
men, it may be a self-inflicted penance, very foolish in
our eyes, but we have no right to interfere.....
But if it be found that young girls of sixteen years of
age are entrapped into these establishments before they
are capable of forming a judgment upon the importance
of such a step; if young persons are allured into these
establishments with the view of obtaining power over
every right and property to which they may afterward
become entitled, and then are not permitted to leave
them when they desire to depart from them; and when
they change their religious opinions, and desire to
withdraw, are not permitted to withdraw; then, I say,
we are justified in interfering, not, indeed, interfering
against ladies, but interfering in order that those ladies
may enjoy the free exercise of their civil and religious
liberties. And in asking that nunneries be subjected
to visitation on the part either of her majesty's justices
of the peace, or on the part of Royal Commissioners
appointed for the occasion, all we ask is that there
281 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
may be secured to every person in these establishmenlts free ingress and free egress; in other words,
ti/t they shall enjoy, in their full extent, their civil
liberty and their religious reedom."
II. UNWILLING NUNS.
But would Protestant readers know by what strong
arguments and illustrations the opponents of this proposed examination vindicate the restraint of the convent?  Let them hear the language of "The Catholic
Institute" of Great Britain, in a pamphlet issued on
this subject.
"Under our free government, are we not ourselves
living in perpetual restraint? Is not our liberty curtailed and limited by many prohibitions and laws?
Are not our soldiers bound by an irrevocable enyagenent as soon as they are enlisted, by which single actalmost always done from want, or in a frolic, or in a
state of intoxication-are they not subject to a discipline a thousand times more severe than that of the
most rigid religious orders? Are they not, in truth,
merely passive instruments in the hands of their commanding officers? Are not their diet, their sleep, their
dress, even their motions, under continual restrictions?
Willing or unwilling, are they not doomed to go wherever they are sent, even to the extremities of the world,
and to the most unwholesome climates, to fight the battles of their country, with scarcely a hope of seeing their
friends again in their native land?  Is not marriage
among us subject to restrictive laws? When con-.
tracted as the law directs, is it not indissoluble? And
is not the unfortunate young person who has been sac
282 
UNWILLING NUNS.
rificed to the avarice and ambition of her unnatural
parents, or has been the melancholy victim of her own
blindness, condemned to pass her days beneath the
yoke which she can never more shake off? To bring
the question nearer home-by the sole fact of our being born in England, are we not deprived of what appears to be an essential part of liberty, the liberty of
disposing of ourselves as we think best, and of choosing the climate and the form of government which we
judge to be the most conducive to our happiness?
From the single fact, in which we never concurred in
the beginning, nor which we ever subsequently ap proved of, have we not contracted with our native
country an engagement so irrevocable that it can never
be dissolved by any act of our own?"*
We  need add nothing to this line of argument
Monastic imprisonment is justifiable, in the view of its
own advocates, by the same pretext as the enlistment
of soldiers under a drunken oath, or the miserable
bondage of a wife "sacrificed to the avarice and ambi tion of unnatural parents." The condition of the nun
is and ought to be as hopeless, as wretched, as despe  rate as these.
There are, then, unwilling nuns; this is acknowl  edged, as indeed it were useless to deny it; and their
confinement, in opposition to their own choice and de  sire, is justified. Nay, as we have seen, this unwill  ingness is considered something so frequent and so
much to be expected, that, in the books furnished and
approved for the special edification of the sisters, there
* "Nuns and Monastic Institutes," a tract "published under the
superintendence of the Catholic Institute of Great Britain."
283 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
are express exhortations addressed to persons in this
predicament. We have already cited some of these
passages. The great Saint Alphonsus Liguori pleads
very tenderly with these poor wretches of nuns who
are imprisoned against their will. He urges them to
" IAKE A VIRTUE OF NECESSITY.    "Grant," lle adds,
condescending to argue with the unfortunate defense less one, "grant that what you state is true; now
that you are professed in a convent, and that it is IM POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO LEAVE IT, tell me, what do you
wish to do?  If you have entered religion against
your inclination, you must now remain with cheerfulness. 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 hereaftelr.   You Clust, then, iuake a virtue of necessity."*
Well may an eloquent writer exclaim, "To what
paltry shifts and quibbles will not Roman Catholic
writers resort to disguise the cruelty of this practice!
inuns are described as superhuman beings, as angels
on earth, without a thought or wish beyond the walls
of their convents. The effects of habit, of religious
fear, of decorum, which prevented many of the French
nuns from casting off the veil at a period when the
Revolutionary storm had struck awe into every breast,
are construed into a proof of the unvariableness of
purpose which follows the religious profession. Are
nuns, indeed, so invariably happy? TYAy, then, are
they insulted by their spiritual rulers by keeping tIhem7
The True Spouse of Jesus Christ, or, the Nun Sanctified by the
Virtues of her State. Translated from the Italian by a Catholic Clergyman.  8vo. Dublin: Duffy, 1848, p. 551
284 
UNWILLING NUNS.
utdcer the very guards and precautions which magyistrates em2ploy to secure external good behavior among
the female inmates of prisons and penitentiarie8s?
Would the nuns continue during their lives under the
same privations were they at liberty to resume the
laical state? WTFhy, then, are they bound fast with
awedtl  vows?  Why are they not allowed to offer up,
day by day, the free-will offering of their souls and
bodies?
"The reluctant nuns, you say, are few.  Vain, unfeeling sophistry!  First prove that vows are recommended on divine authority; that Christ has authorized the use of force and compulsion to ratify them
when they are made, and then you may stop your ears
against the complaints of a few 8ufferers. But can
millions of submissive, or even willing recluses, atone
fopr the despair of those few? You reckon in indefi nite numbers those that in France did not avail them selves of the Revolutionary laws. You should rather
inquire how many who, before the Revolution, appear ed perfectly contented in their cloistral slavery, over came their religious fear, and fled to the arms of a hus band as soon as they could do it with impunity. Two
hundred and ten nuns were secularized in Spain dur ing the short-lived reign of the Cortes. Were these
helpless beings happy in their former durance? What
an appalling number of less fortunate victims might
not be made out by averaging in the same proportion
the millions of females who, since the establishment
of convents, have surrendered their liberty into the
hands of Rome!"*
* Blanco White's "Practical and Internal Evidence against Catho
285 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
III. COERCION THE LAW OF THE CONVENT.
To satisfy himself that restraint is contemplated by
the monastic system, let the reader turn for a moment
to the ritual for the assumption of the veil in convents,
and examine the tenor of the curse there pronounced.
"By the authority of Almighty God and his holy
apostles Peter and Paul, we solemnly forbid, under
pain of anathema, that any one draw away these present virgins, or holy nuns, from the divine service to
which they have devoted themselves under the banner
of chastity; or that any one purloin their goods, or
hinder their possessing them unmolested; but if any
one shall dare to attempt such a thing, let him be accursed at home and abroad; accursed in the city and
in the field; accursed in waking and sleeping; accursed in eating and drinking; accursed in walking
and sitting; cursed in his flesh and his bones; and
from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head let
him have no soundness. Come upon him the malediction which, by 3Ioses in the Law, the Lord hath
laid on the sons of iniquity. Be his name blotted out
from the book of the living, and not be written with
the righteous. Hiis portion and inheritance be with
Cain the fratricide, with Dathan and Abiram, with Ananias and Sapphira, with Simon the sorcerer, and with
licism." 1826, p.138. Of this writer, who had been a Roman Catholic priest for many years, Dr. Newman, the distinguished pervert from
Oxford, says, while dissenting strongly from Mr. White's opinions,
" I have the fullest confidence in his word when he witnesses to facts,
and facts which he knew." He describes him as a person "whose
honor you may depend on;" " a man you can trust."- Lecturcs on
the Present Conditzio.z of Catholics in England. London, 1851.
286 
COERCION THiE LAW OF THE CONVENT.   287
Judas the traitor, and with those who have said to
God,'Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge
of thy ways.' Let him perish in the day of judgment,
and let everlasting fire devour him, with the devil and
his angels, unless he make restitution and come to
amendment.   Fiat.  Fiat.  So be it.  So be it."
This is not the voice of the Christian minister, gently encouraging a devout soul to engage upon a course
of willing obedience, to be spontaneously and joyfully
persevered in unto the end. It imposes on the conscience an awful weight from the outset. It is designed to remain a fearful monument of that one act by
which, in the truthful language of the Roman Catholic
tract we have already quoted, the poor nun is "bound,"
like the miserable recruit, "by an irrevocable engagemelilt."
And if, in subsequent years, at the thought of
fi-iends, and family, and home; tired of the dull,
weary monotony of the cloister, or, it may be, sick
at heart of the priesteraft, the superstition, the vice,
which may be secretly practiced within the convent
walls; or, perhaps, having changed her religious sen timents, she wishes for the free light of the Gospel of
Christ, yet, the moment she thinks of these things,
the awful malediction, as a ghastly spectre, rises be
fore her,
" Let her perish in the day of judgment, and let
everlasting fire devour her, with the devil and his angels."
Or if her father, in after years, desires to bring back
his long-lost daughter to his bosom; or if her mother
should sigh over the dangers which she has learned 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOIK.
are rife within the cloisters; or if her brother, brave
and generous, makes an effort to secure the freedom of
his sister, then the vision of the prelate stands before
him, with crosier and mitre, and proclaims the sentence,
"Let him perish in the day of judgment, and let
everlasting fire devour him, with the devil and his angels."
Nay, were the chief justice of our commonwealth to
issue the writ of habeas8 copus to bring this young
recluse into court before him, or were a committee of
inspection appointed by our judiciary to visit the establishment, and invite the prisoner, if such be her
choice, to go forth free, the sentence falls upon their
heads,
"Let them perish in the day of judgment, and let
everlasting fire devour them, with the devil and his
angels. "*
But while the Church, in this imposing service, lays
upon the gnind of her captive, and on the minds of
those who might be induced to procure her freedom,
the most forcible restraint that fear and terror can create, it is no less evident that the practical measures
taken for the continuance of this captivity are equally
strong to confine and imprison the body. The Council of Trent enjoins all bishops to enforce the close confinement of nuns by every means, and even to engage
the assistance of the secular arm for that purpose; entreats all princes to protect the inclosure of the convents; and threatens with instant excommunication
all civil magistrates who withhold their aid when tlie
* Reverend M. H. Seymour.
288 
COERCION THE LAW OF THIE CONVENT.   289
bishops call for it.  "Let no professed nun," say the
fathers of the Council of Trent, "come out of her monastery under any pretext whatever, not even for a moment."  "If any of the regulars [men and women under perpetual vows] pretend that fear or force compelled them to enter the cloister, or that the profession took place before the appointed age, let them not
be heard, except within five years of their profession.
But if they put off the frock of their own accord, no
allegation of such should be heard, but, being compelled to return to the convent, THEY MUST BE PUNISHED AS APOSTATES, being, in the mean time, deprived of all the privileges of their order."
Such is the law of the Church of Rome concerning
all who have fled from the walls of religious houses.
It applies fully to every one of those who, in our own
day and in our own land, have succeeded in making
their escape; and if the institutions and the public
opinion of this country allowed it, that law would be
seen to be publicly carried out to the letter among us,
as undoubtedly it has been secretly within the precincts of those establishments which, in the midst of
our boasted freedom, constitute small despotisms of
the deepest oppression.
In view, therefore, of the fact that by the very testimony of the Romnan Catholic Church herself, in her
popular publications, in her public rites, and in her authorized standards of doctrine and discipline, an actual restraint is and must be imposed upon the inmates
of monastic establishments; and in view of the con ceded fact that there are some, if not many, who are
thus unwillingly confined, we urge the enactment of
N 
-IMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
some provision to extend the territory of our American
freedom over these institutions; to apply the precious
principles of liberty of thought, speech, and person to
these unhappy beings; to proclaim to the reluctant
though submissive bondwoman of the convent, if there
be but one such in our land, "There is no law to keep
you here; you are free to stay or to go forth; make
your choice without fear of man; remain, if so you
will, but be assured that you need do so no longer
than your own free purpose shall last."
A few farther considerations will be noticed, however, before we reach the full examination of this point.
IV. FACILITIES OF COMMUNICATION.
It has been urged that a sufficient method of redress
for the occasional instances of unwillingness that we
have here referred to, is provided by the system, in the
free access of parents and relatives to communication
with the nun.   Such is the argument of the MIother
Superior of St. Joseph's in her letter respecting the
author of this narrative.   Such is the favorite strain
of all who attempt to set aside the proofs of oppression
and restraint furnished by numerous witnesses. Our
nuns and sisters, they say, have fathers and mothers,
brothers and friends, who may at any time visit them
freely, and can surely be relied upon to ascertain the
true state of their feelings, and to procure their departure should they themselves desire to leave.
What, then, is the fact respecting this facility of
intercourse? What opportunities have the members
of the convent or the sisterhood to acquaint their
friends with their views and wishes? Every one
290 
FACILITIES OF COMMUNICATION.
knows how it is.  The interview, when allowed at all,
takes place at an iron grating, where the nun stands
like a prisoner behind bars, which present an impassable barrier. These interviews generally, if not invariably, take place in the presence of a third persona nun appointed for the purpose.   The sister, taught,
as we shall see, to regard these interviews as dangerous to her spiritual safety, and carefully instructed to
avoid all demonstrations of attachment to her former
state, and desire to return to the world, and required
to express an entire contentment and satisfaction with
the "religious" life, can not be supposed to exercise
a reasonable choice in the matter, or to make known
her interior sentiments under this fourfold restraint
of spiritual fear, mechanical obedience, the consciousness of being watched, and an actual prevention of free
converse by means of the iron barriers that separate
her from her friends.   But remember that the nun is
bound to be in a condition of abject submission to her
Superior's will; that this is the very essence of that
sanctity to which she is taught to aspire, an entire
sacrifice of moral independence.   The idea that with
such discipline and such habits, to say nothing of the
dread of penance, whether it consist in flogging,* solita   * Under the less harsh name of discipline orflagellation.  "This is
a species of mortification," says St. Alphonsus Liguori, who died only
seventy years ago, "strongly recommended by Francis de Sales, and
universally adopted in religious communities of both sexes. All the
modern saints, without a single exception, have continually practiced
this sort of penance. It is related of St. Lewis of Gonzaga that he
often scourged himself unto blood three times in the day; and at the
point of death, not having sufficient strength to use the lash, he be sought the provincial to have him disciplined from head to foot. Sure ly, then, it would not be too much for you to take the discipline once tn
291 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ry confinement, or irksome duties, as a determent from
infraction of the commands given her, is simply absurd.
A"What progress," asks St. Alphonsus Liguori, "can
be expected from the religious who wishes to have her
relations near the convent; who, if she do not see them,
is constantly sending letters and messages to request
a visit from them; and who, if they yield not to her
entreaties, is disturbed, and complains by frequent letters of their absence and neglect?  It is impossible
for a nun of this description ever to obtain a close
union with God.' Whoever,' says St. Gregory,' wishes to be truly united to the Father of all, must be separated firom relations.'"
"The nun who leaves her relations in effect and in
afection, shall obtaifi eternal beatitude in heaven and
a hundred-fold on earth; she will leave a few, and
shall find many sisters in religion; she will abandon
a father and a mother, and in return shall have God
for her Father, and Blkary for her mother.
"I Hence, convinced that detachment from kindred
is highly pleasing to God, the saints have sought to
be wholly removed from their relatives.'For my
part,' says St. Teresa,' I can not conceive what con solation a nun can find in her relatives. By attach ment to them she displeases God, and, without being
able to enjoy their amusements, she shares in all their
troubles.'
" HIow applicable to you, O blessed sister! is this
reflection of the saint..... Oh! what an excess of
folly to imagine that you can not be happy without
the day, or at least three or four times in the week!"-The True
Spouse of Christ, etc., p. 181.
292 
FACILITIES OF COMMUNICATION.
frequently seeing your friends! Ah! if you keep aloof
from t4ein, what torrents of consolation and hlappiness would your spouse, Jesus, infuse into your soul!
St. Miary Magdalene de Pazzi used to say that an abhorrence of the grate8 should be the principal firuit of
the communion of religious. And as an evil spirit
once said to the venerable sister, Mlary Villain, there
is certainly no place where the devil does so much injury to religious as in the parlor.* Hence St. Mary
Magdalene de Pazzi would not even pass through it;
and such was her hatred of it that she could not even
bear to hear it mentioned. Whenever she was obliged
to go to the parlor, she would begin to weep, and
say to her novices,'AIy dear children, pray to God
for me, for I am called to the grate.'
"But you will say,'What am I to do? Am I
never to see my friends?  When they visit me, must
I send them away, and refuse to go to the grate?' I
do not require so much from you; but if you refused
to see teren, would you do wrong-would you do what
would be inconvenient, or what is never done by religious?"
But another injunction is given by the same teach er in reference to intercourse with relations at the grate,
and we have reason to believe that the rule is dwelt
upon with much urgency in the instruction of nuns:
"Be careful not to make known to externs the in ternal concerns of the convent, and particularly w/hat
may tend to thIe d7iscredit of the Superior or t/e sis te7s."
"Ah!" continues the saint, "what rapid progress
* Parlatorium, the room where the grate is.
293 
AMISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
in divine love does the religious make who resolves
NEVER to go to the grate. When- you, O blessed sister! go to the parlor, be careful at least to conduct
yourself like a religious. In your intercourse with
seculars, you should not only guard with great care
against tll afectionate expressions, but should also be
very grave and reserved in the parlor.   St. Mary Mlagdalene de Pazzi wished her nuns to be as uncultivated
as the wild deer-these are her very words. And the
venerable sister HIyacinth Miarescotti used to say,' The
courtesy of nuns consists in being discourteous, by cutting short all discourses in the parlor.' "';
So much for the reliance to be placed upon the facilities of intercourse between the "religious" and her
relations as a means of redress or escape from restraint.
The author of the present narrative has stated how she
herself was directed and compelled to mislead her
friends as to her true sentiments, and to disguise from
them all dissatisfaction with her position at the institution.
V. DESPOTISMI OF THE CONVENT.
There is another consideration, bearing, as we believe, with no slight force upon the propriety of legislative action with reference to convents and other establishments of like order. We refer to the extent of
power irresponsibly lodged in the hands of the superiors of those institutions, and wielded by them with
absolute sway over the moral and physical condition
of individuals completely abstracted from domestic and
legal protection.
* " The True Spouse," etc., p. 361-360.
294 
DESPOTISM OF THE CONVENT.
In these United States-for it is of them alone that
we at present speak-all women of sound mind born
free, who have reached the age of discretion, and have
not forfeited by crime their civil rights, are supposed
to live under the shelter of laws, and to possess privileges of personal self-control. Besides the guardianship of natural protectors-their fathers, husbands,
anIl brothers, who are generally those most interested in their well-being-they can at any time invoke
the interference of justice, and claim its covenanted
defense.   Surrounded  by relatives, neighbors, and
friends, to whom they can instantly appeal against
even the possible abuse of authority at home, they
are seldom exposed to restraint, hardship, or maltreatment for any continued period. Whatever the obligations of domestic regard, it is not understood that
these involve the relinquishment of personal will within reasonable and lawful bounds.  This fact, however,
is not of universal application; for while, as a rule,
such freedom exists and is guaranteed by law to all
American women, there is an exception most signifi cant and remarkable.   WVe have in the United States
a considerable number of institutions, containing many
hundreds of females, who are under absolute and des potic control.   These establishments are conducted
by persons exercising an assumed authority not com mittedcl to them by the civil power, but lying beyond
its cognizance, dispensing with its sanction, and ac knowledging no accountability to its courts.  They
come not under the head of asylums, penitentiaries, or
prisons. For those there are particular provisions in
our codes; they are open to official inspection and
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
governed by official appointment, but such is not the
case here. The subjects of this discipline, though not
culprits or criminals, are adjudged to close seclusion
and loss of natural imnmunities; like them, they are
immured for life or for a stated term, within buildings
surrounded by high walls, beyond which they can not
proceed without permission; like them, they are under control of superiors, who govern all their actions,
though undesignated and unrecognized for such purpose by the state.  They are not looked upon as apprentices or persons held to service according to any
known law of the land, yet they are bound by solemn
vows and obligations to absolute obedience and abandonment of choice and volition, without hesitancy or
reflection.  For all thle benefit they derive from the
liberal institutions of our country, they might as well
be situated under the despotisms of the Old World,
or in a condition of avowed bondage.
There is, then, it can scarcely be denied, some
ground for the inquiry, What  are these establishments, that they should exist among us outside of all
civil jurisdiction? What are these nunneries and religious houses, that the daughters of freemen should be
pent up within them like outcasts from society and
convicts of justice, yet unknown as such to the judges
of our courts and the legislators of our states?  What
is there so mysterious within those precincts that there
the domain of freedom does not extend, that there the
light of publicity can not enter, that from thence the
voice of appeal to justice can not be heard?  What
are these numneries?  Are they institutions recognized
and authorized for the public good by the government
296 
DESPOTISM OF THE CONVENT.
of our land? AWhy, then, are they closed to an inspection that may insure against maladministration? why
is not their condition reported to the public for approval or censure? Or are they establishments of a strictly private character, such as our schools and associations of benevolence?  Then wherefore should they
arrogate to themselves over adults of sound mind,
guiltless of crime, a control of will and action utterly
incompatible with the enjoyment of civil freedom?
Until, as we apprehend will not soon be the case,
there shall be enacted by our Legislatures some special           provision f or t he existence of institutions where
persons  of free b     irth, good fame, and mental sanity
m      a y    lawfully b e  confined, restricted in their personal
freedom, and subjected to absolute government of will
or physical coercion, however they may have been persuaded to consent at the outset to such a course of discipline-until, w      e  say, some such law shall be added to
our codes, the monastic system will continue to be as
it is now, illegal. There is at present nothing in our
laws to                    warr ant th at system.  There is nothing that
giv      es to             any  individual, whether priest or layman, the
privilege of exacting the bounden service of an Ameri c a n    woman u    nder  vow of absolute obedience.  There
is nothing there that entitles any person, whether Ab bot or Lady Superior, to deprive women of liberty and
restrain them from exit. There is nothing that pro vides even for such a voluntary act of disfranchise ment as would be involved in the complete sacrifice
of            will requ ired by  the rules of the convent.   That
system is not only opposed to the spirit of republican
freedom, it is unknown to our civil polity, and clear                           N2
297 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
ly hostile to every principle of justice and right that
belongs to our age.
It can not even be urged for the system of monastic discipline that it should find countenance in a
country where domestic servitude is recognized and
made legal.  It may not be compared for a moment
with that institution. There is no part of our land
where laws do not exist for the security of the slave in
the enjoyment of life and good treatment.  There is
no state of this Union where the complete exercise of
control over life, health, and virtue is vested in a single individual so absolutely and without the shadow
of responsibility as in the case of the superiors of convents.
The advocates of these religious penitentiaries tell
us, for the quieting of all apprehension in the matter,
that the objects of this discipline are most pure and
commendable, that their regulations are such as every
one would approve, that the sanctity of its design insures the excellence of the system.   Such is the argument  of Mother Etienne, the Superior of St. Joseph's, and a curious one it is. If such a line of defense could be set up in all such cases, there would be
few criminals found worthy of sentence. Grant that
the regulations of a society may be admirable in all
respects: does that fact secure their perfect execution?
Does it do away with the necessity for any check upon
abuse and injustice under the system so wisely drawn
up on paper? Where is the judge of its actual agreement with these avowed regulations?  Where is the
court of appeal for any complaint? What opportunity
of redress for particular grievances? The bishop or
298 
INSTANCES OF ESCAPE.
the Pope, doubtless; and whenever, thanks to the secret workings of Jesuits, clerical and lay, our people
shall be prepared to establish the canon law of Rome
in this country, then it will be time to acknowledge
the sufficiency of such a plea.
YI. INSTANCES OF ESCAPE.
,Where absolute and arbitrary power resides in any
fallible being, the chances of its abuse are unquestionably great. Where restraint is imposed upon the freedom of a considerable number of persons, it is quite
probable that some, however willing at the outset to
submit, may finally become weary of their bondage,
and desire release.  We have already adduced repeated acknowledgments from Roman Catholic authorities
to the effect that there are cases of reluctant and constrained submission. We have only now to instance
some few out of a; great number of such, where this
oppression has been felt to exceed endurance, and the
desperate victim of the cloister has been driven to insanity, or to the hazards of an attempt at escape. 
A single fact of this nature might, to an impartial
judgment, prove the existence of those evils which we
have been delineating. But these occurrences have
been frequent and notorious. How many similar at tempts may have been thwarted and concealed firom
public knowledge by the vigilance of those interested
in their suppression, we can only estimate from the
firequency of such as have proved successful.
On the 18th of August, 1839, a nun by the name
of Olivia Neal, formerly of Charles county, Alaryland,
but who had been for nineteen years a prisoner, under
299 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
the appellation of " Sister Isabella," at the Carmelite
nunnery inl Aisquith Street, Baltimore, succeeded in
escaping from that institution.  After being repulsed
by several families, she was received and protected by
a worthy citizen living a few doors from the convent.
Efforts were immediately made by the confessor of
the convent and others to have access to the fugitive
and convey her back. The rumor of this fact having
spread in the city, an immense crowd gathered around
the house, and signified their determination to prevent
the abduction.  The mayor and other gentlemen having come to the spot, she was taken to a place of
safety.
This nun stated to all who questioned her that she
had entered the convent at a very early age; that she
had long  desiredC to escape; that on one occasion before she had gotten out, and was met and carried back
by the priest.   She demanded, in a most earnest and
touching manner, the protection of the people.
The assertion was at once made by the authorities
of the convent that Olivia Neal, or " Sister Isabella,"
was out of her right mind. This plea is invariably
set up in similar cases. A physician was induced to
state that she was a "perfect maniac;" and five others united in the conflicting statement that she was a
"monomaniac," or at least afflicted with a "yeneral
,feebleness of intellect." Hundreds, however, of the
most respectable citizens of Baltimore concurred in
declaring that Miss Neal gave every indication of sanity, correct judgment, and resolute will.
The Reverend Robert J. Breckinridge, D.D., a distinguished and most estimable clergyman of the Pres
300 
INSTANCES OF ESCAPE.
byterian Church, was at that time a resident of Baltimore, and was requested to have an interview with
this escaped nun. He thus relates it: "As we entered the room, he [a friend] said to her,' This is Mr.
B.,' naming us. Her reply went to our heart. She
extended her hands toward us, and, repeating our
name, said, almost convulsively,' I claim your protectionl'.'  AWY'e told her we had come to her for no other
purpose.
"A rapid conversation, in which several took part,
immediately ensued, from which we learned, in substance, that her name was Olivia Neal, originally firom
Charles county, Maryland, but now called' Sister Isabella;' that she had been put into the convent very
young, and been in it nineteen years; that she had
been logy aznxioutsly trying to get out, and had once
succeeded in making her escape into the street, when
she was met and foicibly carried bctek, and subjected
to severe penances; that, having again escaped, her
anxious desire was for present protection-a desire
she repeatedly expressed; that, however, she wished
all to understand that she did not desire to change her
religion, but only hier co2(dition as a nun; that she
did not wish any violence offered either to the nuns or
priests on her account, against whom, indeed, she was
not disposed to make any accusations; that she felt
agitated, and unfit for any extended conversation on
the subject of her past trials, and asked only for secur ity, repose, and tranquillity, till she could collect her
faculties and decide on her future line of conduct,
which was the more necessary, she said, as they had
told her that her mind bwas weak; and that, having
301 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
no friends in whom she could confide, she was obliged
to throw herself on the public for protection.
" Iuch more was said, which we do not think it
worth while to repeat at present; but, as a sample of
the general style of conversation, we will detail one
item more minutely. Sle was asked if a nun had not
escaped some months ago.' Yes; it was I,' was her
reply.' How happens it that you were back again?'
' I was met by a gentleman immediately after getting
out, and carried back.'' Who was that gentleman?'
No answer.'Was it priest Gildea?''Yes, sir.'
'What was done to you when you were carried back?'
'There are penances to undergo; I was subjected to
these.''Did they whip you?'   No answer, but a
mournful smile.' Did they imprison you?'' I have
said I endured the usual penance.' She was not pressed farther on this painful subject, being evidently unwilling to speak fully of it."*
The sequel to this sad story of oppression and suffering exhibits the triumph of Romish intrigue over
the natural and legal rights of a feeble woman. A
distant relative was found who was willing to serve
the purposes of priestly craft. HIe came to Baltimore,
obtained ex -pate certificates contradictory of each
other, insufficient in law or reason, none of which were
sworn to, and no cross examination permitted; on
which certificates he took his kinswoman and placed
her precisely where she had most earnestly desired
never to go again-under the power of the nuns and
priests.t  Nothing more has been heard of her for
* Papism in the United States. By Robert J. Breckinridge, D.D.,
p. 235-245.                               t Papism, etc., p. 265.
302 
INSTANCES OF ESCAPE.
years.  Miss Bunkley, in the preceding narrative, mentions having seen in the asylum at AIount Hope a person who, as she had reason to believe, was the unhappy "Sister Isabella."
The author of this volume has also specified several
instances of attempted escape from the institution of
St. Joseph at Emmettsburg. That of Helen Grier is
authenticated by unimpeachable witnesses.
Facts like the following have frequently met the
eyes of our readers in the public journals:
"On the night of the 18th of April, 1842, as a pa trol was going along the narrow street which runs by
the side of the convent of the Bon Pasteur, in the
town of Ouest, in France, he found a girl lying on the
pavement, and screaming from the injury she had re ceived by a fall in attempting to escape from the con vent through one of the upper windows by means of
a sheet. On being taken to the hospital, it was found
that her leg was broken.   When able to speak, she
said that, on account of a trifling disagreement with
some of the nuns, she was put into solitary confine  ment, and allowed only bread and water. Driven to
despair, she had contrived to force away the planks
by which the window was blinded, and attempted, in
the manner described, to reach the ground."*
"XVe have before us," says the writer upon whose
authority we have stated the above, "an octavo vol  ume of four hundred pages, entitled' Soeur Marie, Ben  edictine,' published at Caen in 1846, written by an
eminent French advocate, MA. Leon Tillard.
"M ademoiselle de Monnier, whose name' in relig
* Nuns and Nunneries, p. 216.
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'MiSS BtJNKIEY;S BOOK.
ion' was Sceur Marie Joseph, entered a Benedictine
convent at Bayeux at the age of twenty-one, in 1823,
and, by her superior education and talents, she became
of great use to the convent. The other sisters were
ignorant and illiterate, and the new postulant was at
once placed in charge of the school. Under her care
it greatly throve, and the number of pupils rapidly increased. At length she assumed the veil. Several
changes took place in the convent, a new Lady Abbess
came, and poor Sceur Marie became the object of a
long-continued persecution, beginning with things so
small as hardly to be perceptible, but which, like the
dropping of water on the stone, wore upon the mind
of the wretched victim. She was removed from the
school, some nuns having joined the establishment
who were better educated than those originally there,
and, after some time, nto one was allowed to speak to
Aer. This was continued year after year. At last
matters came to a crisis; the Superior provoked Sister Aiarie, drew her into an altercation, and then declaring that she was  ),ad, had her seized by the gardener and others, and locked up in a small cell. The
physician of the convent was sent for, and, without
having seen the victim, signed a certificate declaring
her to be mad. In the dead of the night she was
roused from her cell, carried off in a carriage to the
Bon Sauveur at Bayeux, and there placed among the
insane on the strength of this certificate. The physician of this new asylum, however, soon found that
she was perfectly sane, and at length dismissed her at
her own earnest entreaty.  But where was she to go?
She returned to her old convent, but there they would
304 
LETTER FROMi DR. DE SANCTIS.
not receive her. She appealed to priests and bishops,
to nuns and abbesses, but every door was closed
against her except the mad-house of the Bon Sauveur.
L. Tillard generously took up her cause, and endeavored to obtain justice for her. But all in vain. Worn
out, harassed, and persecuted, poor Sceur Marie at
length became duly qualified for the Bon  Sauveur.
Her mind failed her, and she is now within its walls,
a harmless lunatic!"*
In these facts, strikingly analogous to those connected with the case of the unhappy Olivia Neal, we
see more manifestly the design of the tyrannical and
merciless autocrat of the convent, working by inces sant annoyances the mental ruin of the object of her
hatred, until at length, successful in destroying the
power of thought and will, her victim is reduced to
the living death of a maniac.
YII. LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
We have now to present some extracts from a letter addressed to the editor of this work by the distinguisled and excellent Dr. De Sanctis, who occupied for many years the post of curate of the church
of the Mladdalena at Rome, was " qualificator" of the
Inquisition, censor of the Theological Academy in the
Roman University, and filled other prominent offices
of trust in the service of the Church of Rome.   He
was in this capacity commissioned by the Cardinal
Vicar to preach and hear confessions in the convents
of that city; and during ten years and more, passed
scarcely a day in which he did not exercise these fund
Nuns and Nunneries, p. 219-22o
305 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
tions at some one or more of those institutions. Written by one so competent to speak from personal observation upon the subject of monasticism, and so
worthy of trust as an able and faithful minister of the
Gospel since his conversion from Romnan Catholic error, we are sure that these statements will command
the attention of our readers.
THE CONVENT A PRISON OF DELUSIONS.
"The  convents of Rome may  be designated as
prisons-horrible prisons of religious delusion.   This
statement will require some explanation. A young
girl at Rome, who is to any degree interested in religion, if she receives her education at a convent, must
absolutely remain there forever, as I shall hereafter
explain; or, if not so educated, must necessarily enter
a convent in the end. The Roman Catholic priest
knows nothing of conjugal love in its holy and chaste
character, and for this very reason he hates it, he detests it, often with the utmost sincerity and perfect
good faith. The declamations of the priests, whether
from the pulpit or the confessional, against this love,
are of a nature to make one shudder. These men are
truly to be pitied: ignorant as they are of the pure, the
legitimate affection of the married state, and knowing
only of a sensual and bestial passion, they have reason
to declaim against such love. The young girl who
blindly follows the path of piety, blindly believes the
priest; for want of experience, she can not distinguish
the innocent from the guilty affection; and when shefeels the first impulses of that love which would lead
hier to become a wife and a mother, she confesses to
1106 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
the priest as a grave offense those sentiments which
pertain to the normal state in which God has framed
her being.  And the confessor, miost generally from
ignorance, and with honest persuasion, augments this
uneasiness, declaring that this impulse is a temptation of the devil in order to eradicate the love of
Christ.  He intimates that there is no better method
of overcoming such temptation than to fly from a world
wh-ichl is but a troubled sea, and to withdraw into the
haven of security, to wit, the convent. And here he
commences to adduce before the kindled imagination
of his charge all those mystic incidents, examples,
histories, and revelations, of which the legendary lit erature of asceticism is full, thus inflaming the mind
of the young penitent, and convincing her that there
is no harbor of safety for her soul other than the state
of a recluse. All that she sees in the world without
becomes to her an object of aversion. The persons
most endeared by natural affection-father, mother,
brothers-become odious, and she longs for the moment
when she may inclose herself within those sacred walls,
where alone she now hopes to find peace and salva  tion. The world is represented to her as a wild andcl
corrupt stream, flowing with impetuous current before
her, while the convent, overlooking it, offers the only
secure retreat. Her father, her brother, her sisters are
being carried away by the river; for her there is safe  ty only there. The dream lasts a while after she has
entered, and then it disappears; the abode of peace is
transformed into a perpetual prison, where a life pays
for the religious delusion of a day.
" Many young girls are drawn to the convents in
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
this manner, but there are others, and perhaps these
constitute a majority, who are attracted in a different
way. 3iany, to whom nature has denied those exter nal graces and charms which captivate the regard of
men, finding themselves neglected, and conscious of an
irresistible need of loving some object, seek to be loved,
as they say, by our Lord Jesus Christ.' The heart
of Jesus' is the chosen devotion of such.   It is after
this fashion that the' heart of Jesus' is represented at
Rome. Our Lord is depicted as a young man of marvelous beauty, who, with a heart shining with love,
seen transparent in his breast, invites with the most
winning look. The young girl who has not met with
a response in the regard of men, enthusiastically begins to cherish an affection for this picture and object.
The priests know well how to encourage such a tendency; they place in her hands the lives of St. Teresa
and other visionaries, who relate their intercourse with
a heavenly spouse, and already she hopes that a like
experience will be hers. Another need that she feels
is that of making some human heart the depository
of her thoughts and emotions, and for want of a lover
she chooses as a confidant her confessor. With him
she spends whole hours of every day in secret colloquies, and, supposing the confessor to be a saint, according to the Romish idea, the unavoidable result of
all this is that she will go into a convent. The dream
after a while is scattered, and there remains the sad
reality of a perpetual prison as the fruit of a religious
delusion.
"There is a third class of young persons, who, being educated from childhood in the nunnery, remain
308 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
there, and become nuns without knowing why, and
give up with alacrity a world which they have never
seen. By what arts and wiles they are drawn into
this course I shall relate elsewhere, when I come to
speak of the education given in convents.
MORALITY OF THE CONVENTS IN ROMIE.
" Such is, for the most part, the method by which
the convents of Rome are peopled. I must now say
a few words respecting the morality of those institutions.
"That there have occurred some flagrant abuses of
this nature, and more especially in convents where
the education of the young is prosecuted, can not be
denied. Two fearful examples have taken place within my own recollection, the general publicity of which
created a painful excitement. The one occurred at
the Convent of' San Dionisio alle quattro Fontane,'
an establishment of nuns affiliated with the Jesuits,
in which the confessor pursued a most infamous course
in relation to a large number of young persons under
the care of that institution.   The other case was that
of the' Conservatorio delta Divina Providenza,' where
the confessor seduced no fewer than sixteen of the
most beautiful persons educated in that convent. * *
* * As a general thing, however, the convent (so far
as Rome is concerned) is neither, on the one hand, a
terrestrial paradise inhabited by angels, nor, on the
other hand, is it generally a place of open and shame less crime.
"An event of no unfrequent occurrence in the con:
vent is the'spiritual assistance' of the sick. When
309 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
a nun is dangerously ill, the confessor, director, or another priest spends the night at the institution. Often
it will happen that, in a case of sickness, fifteen or sixteen successive nights are thus spent. This has happened more than once to myself.   In the convent there
are generally two well-furnished rooms for such a contingency: the one is a small parlor, conveniently arranged, where the confessor eats; the other a bed-room,
where, also, nothing is omitted for his comfort. The
supper of the reverend father confessor is no ordinary
one; it consists of all the niceties of food that are to
be procured. While the holy man is at his mneal, several nuns will be standing around him, urging him to
eat this and drink that.  Supper over, the father goes
to see the patient, sprinkles her with hIoly water, and
then retires to his bed. The doors are left open, in
order that he may readily be called should the invalid
grow worse. I can not say that all precautions are
taken in such cases, nor that disorders fail to occur,
and that with sufficient frequency. I can only state
matters as I know them to exist.
"And here I may incidentally mention a fact that
will surprise the good Christian people of America, although at Rome it appears quite natural. In Carnival,*
the inmates of all the convents are permitted the masquerade. The monks who act as confessors send their
habits to their respective nuns, who put them on, and
enact a thousand ridiculous scenes.   Any one can understand the indecency, and, to speak more clearly, the
* A period of five or six days preceding Lent, during which; in Roman Catholic countries, every species of merriment and buffoonery is
tolerated
I I
310 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
immorality of such procedures; but this is nothing:
on the contrary, it seems so natural that a nun who
should fail to join in these amusements would be regarded as over-scrupulous even by her confessor himself.  In convents devoted to education, there are, besides these, theatrical performances, and comedies are
recited. To these representations are admitted the
confessors, priests, monks, and the relatives of the
nuns and pupils. On such occasions you would see
some one of these young girls ornamented with mustaches, declaiming the part of an officer, and dressed
in uniform, while another would take the character of
a lover, etc., etc. In convents where superior sancti ty is affected, profanations still greater are committed.
There are given dramatic entertainments called sacred,
and these are nothing less than Scripture facts set
forth in comedy. There you would see a young girl
assuming the part of 3M1oses, another that of Aaron,
thus turning into ridicule those holy characters, and
casting contempt upon the word of God itself. I once
saw at one of these places a young person who repre sented an angel, while another filled the role of the
devil.  Between them they concocted a dialogue so lu  d(licrous that every body was exploding with laughter.
HEALTH IN THE CONVENTS OF ROME.
" In order to make what I have to say respecting
these institutions more clear, let me divide them into
two classes: the one consisting of those where the inmates have no other occupation besides prayer, the
other in which they are employed in giving instructions
to the young.
'lF'
311 
MISS BUNKLEYES BOOICK.
"With regard to the former class, we must again
distinguish those convents where the rigor of discipline
is carried to such an excess of fanaticism as to tread
under foot the most sacred laws of nature; and here I
do not speak of individual excesses of fanaticism, but
of abuses belonging to the community itself, approved
and sanctioned by the Superiors of the institution.
"There is at Rome, in the' Regione de' Monti,' in
a spot almost unknown to the world, a convent entitled that of the' Vive Sepolte' (' buried alive');* and
the miserable inmates are really in the condition expressed by their name. Once admitted within those
walls, it may be said of them,
"' Leave hope behind, all ye who enter here.'
"They are indeed buried alive. They come to
confession, but a double grating, the one at a considerable distance from the other, an iron plate punctured with small holes between the confessor and the
penitent, through which the voice can scarcely pass,
and a black cloth fastened upon this plate to intercept
even the rays of light-such is the mode in which the
confession takes place. When these nuns commune,
they present themselves at a small window, about half
the size of the countenance; and there, with a thick
woolen cloth over the face, suffering only the tongue
to be seen, they receive the element from the hand of
the priest. In case of sickness, they are led into a
room called the infirmary, and there the physician prescribes for his patient through an aperture in the wall.
If he wishes to feel the pulse or draw blood, the arm
MAore properly. "Reli,ise FraScescare detre' IrTe Sepre.' "
312 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
of the invalid must be extended to him through the
aperture.
The physician of this convent related to me these
facts as I was visiting the institution, and stated that
many of the nuns had died in consequence of these
impediments to a proper medical attendance. He told
me that on one occasion, indignant at this suicidal
course, he went to Cardinal Patrizi, the patron of this
convent, who replied to his complaint that there was
no need of interference, these persons being, not suicides, but victirns of holy modesty.
"When the nun enters this establishment, she is,
I have said,  bmi,2-ecl  alive.'  She must henceforth
know nothing of her relatives. Once in the year it is
allowed that relatives of the first degree present them selves at the monastery, midspeak in the hearing of
the recluse; they xay not, however, see the counte nance of their daughter or sister.  When a near rela tive of a neo  dies, the Mother Superior, on the even ing after that event, says at prayers,'My sisters, let
us pray for the soul of the father, or mother, or brother
of one of our number, who died yesterday or to-day;'
and it is not permitteel that any one know who it is
that has died: hence each imagines that it may be her
own father, mother, or brother; and in this uncertainty
she is left, in order that she may, with more fervor,
from day to day, pray for the deceased. Such is the
abuse that fanaticism makes of religion! But things
of this sort are not generally known or believed, and
for this reason I state and affirm the facts. If you
should publish them, do so with my name, as I am
willing to be responsible for them.
0
313 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
"When a youth, I resided in the neighborhood of
this convent, and I remember that one day the Pope,
Leo XII., made an unexpected visit to the institution.
It excited much curiosity in the quarter to know the
occasion of this visit, which was as follows: A woman
had an only daughter who had taken the veil in that
convent. Left a widow, she came often to the institution, and with a mother's tears besought that she
might be allowed, if not to see, at least to hear the
voice of her daughter. What request more just and
more sacred from a mother?  But what is there of
sacredness and justice that fanaticism does not corrupt? The daughter sent word by the confessor to
her mother that if she did not cease to importune her,
she would refuse to speak to her even on the day
when she would be allovwed to do so.  That day at
length arrived; the widowed mother was the first to
present herself at the door of the convent, and she
was told that she could not see her daughter. In despair, she asked Why?  No answer.  Was she sick?
No reply.  Was she dead?  Not a word.   The mniserable mother conjectured that her daughter was dead.
She ran to the Superiors to obtain at least the privilege
of seeing her corpse, but their hearts were of iron.
She went to the Pope: a mother's tears touched the
breast of Leo XII., and he promised her that on the
following morning he would be at the convent and ascertain the fact. He did so, as I have said, unexpectedly to all. Those doors, which were accustomed
to open only for the admittance of a fresh victim, opened that day to the head of the Church of Rome. Seeing the wretched mother who was the occasion of this
314 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
visit, he called her to him, and ordered her to follow
him into the nunnery. The daughter, who, by an excess of barbarous fanaticism, thought to please Heaven by a violation of the holiest laws of nature, concealed herself upon hearing that her mother had entered the convent. The Pope called together in a hall
the entire sisterhood, and commanded them to lift the
veils from their faces. The mother's heart throbbed
with vehemence; she looked anxiously from face to
face once and again, but her daughter was not there.
She believed now that she was dead, and, with a piercing cry, fell down in a swoon. While she was reviving, the Pope peremptorily asked the 3lother Superior
whether the daughter was dead or alive.  She replied,
at length, that she was yet living, but having vowed
to God that she would eradicate every carnal affection
from her breast, she was unwilling even to see her
mother again. It was not until the Pope ordered her
appearance, in virtue of the obedience due to him, and
upon pain of mortal sin, that the nun came forth. This
outrage upon human nature, which might have result ed in parricide, is denominated in the vocabulary of
monasticism' virtue in heroic degree.'
"Besides the convent of the' Vive Sepolte,' there
are at Rome other institutions of a similar cast; for
example, that of the Capuchin nuns of San Urbano,
those of Monte Cavallo, the Teresians of San Giuseppe
a Capo le case, those of San Eligio in Trastevere, and
so forth. Numbers of these poor wretches every year
commit suicide through a false spirit of penitence.
They go without necessary food; they wear haircloth
when nature demands restoratives; they refuse them
315 
1MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
selves remedies which would arrest disease, and this
from a false modesty which forbids the communicating
of their ailments to the physician. Many have I
known to die of such procedure. You will call these
nuns poor victims of delusion;  the world will call
them mad; but, in the dictionary of the convent, they
are termed' holy martyrs of sacred modesty.'
"I will not relate to you all the minutia of the convent life; it would take a volume instead of a letter
to do so. Imagine what must be an establishment
where fifty or sixty women live, as it were, in a prison-women brought together without knowledge of
one another, gnawing the curb of an imprisonment
which they affect to make appear voluntary, and which
they seek to persuade themselves is such-and you
will perceive what must be the nature of their life. * *
X * Suicide by means of the rope or poison is not a
very frequent occurrence in nunneries at Rome, but a
species of suicide little known to the world is most frequent there: I mean that which proceeds from imprudent penances, the injurious repression of innocent affections, the persistent effort to contradict and thwart
nature in every possible mode, the refusal, from false
modesty, to make known, for medical advice, whatever
maladies may occur-these and other reasons suffice
to account for the fact that a very considerable proportion of nuns perish in youth, and so many others drag
through years an existence of continued ailments and
infirmities. * * *
'16 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
THE NUNS AND THEIR CONFESSORS.
"There are other convents of' contemplative life'such is the appellation given to those where the principal occupation is or ought to be prayer-in which
matters proceed quite differently from the' Vive Sepolte.' At such institutions you would see, fromt early
in the morning till evening, a string of priests and
monks going and coming; these are the confeessors of
the nuns. To enable you to understand this more
clearly, let me say that for each convent there is a
confessor, so called. This confessor is a priest, appointed by the bishop and supported by the nunnery,
who must always be at the convent for the'spiritual
direction' of its inmates. He is the pastor of the community, and all ought, according to rule, to confess to
him. But it is not the practice of nuns to confess to
the ordinary confessor. Each one has her own in particular, and some have two or three; but these partic ular confessors can not be called by that name; they
are termed' directors.' Each' director,' as he reaches
the institution, is received by his nun, who, if it be in
the morning, regales him with a cup of excellent choc olate, or, after dinner, with refreshments, of which
sweetmeats always form a part. While this holy di rector is eating, his nun converses with him; ordina rily the interview lasts about half an hour; then they
go and shut themselves up in a confessional, where
they remain at least an hour. This occurs at least
twice a week, and often every day. The conversation
is commonly any thing but religious; it is apt to con  sist chiefly of small-talk and scandal. * X *
317
L
r .!, 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
EDUCATION AT CONVENTS.
" I have promised to speak of those convents which
are devoted to education and instruction.  Nearly all
the nunneries contain some young persons who are inll
process of education, and are supported there by their
relatives for this purpose; but there are convents
which have for their principal scope the instruction of
youth.  For these institutions the description I have
given of the others will, in general, answer to the
truth; but it must be added that the young persons
receiving their education at the convent do not know
all that takes place in the establishment.   They live
in a particular portion of it, separate from the greater
part of the nuns, whom they see only in the choir and
at the refectory.  They are under the charge of a nun
who superintends their education.
"But wherein does this education consist? Culte of intelect they can not derive from the reading
of ascetic books, legendaries, lives of the saints, and
particularly from those works which speak of the felicities of the monastic life and the horrors of the world.
In their tender minds this is the cardinal idea inculcated, that outside of the cloister it is almost impossible to find salvation. All books save those that speak
of these things are absolutely prohibited.   Hence geography, history, and all other branches of useful and
necessary knowledge are completely banished from
these places as worldly studies.
"T/Re culture of the heart is shockingly profaned,
Ignoring the life of the family, they learn to detest it.
WYith the pretext that every human relation is profane,
318 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
they alienate themselves, under the garb of sanctity,
from parental love.  They love none but those whom
they believe to stand in the place of God —thie confessor foremost of all, and then the mother mistress.
Should one of these young persons leave the convent
and marry (I relate what I have known in many cases),
broils and strifes arise in the domestic circle.  She refuses to obey her husband until the confessor has instructed her in matrimonial duties, and has commanded her to obey. Is this always innocence? I an swer, _Yo.
"For a young girl educated in a convent to be a
good wife and a good mother is a thing most rare.
At Rome it is a common saying,' Do you want a faith less woman? Marry a girl brought up at a nunnery.'
This rule has its exceptions, but be assured they are
exceptions; fifteen years of experience at the confes sional have taught me this.  Such a person can not
be a good mother, because, not educated in the fam ily, she knows nothing of domestic life.  She can not
be a good housekeeper, because the superintendence
of a household is something to her quite new. Few
are the husbands who have not speedy cause to repent
of marrying a young girl just out of the convent.
With regard to work, the nuns teach only how to em  broider church cloths.
"There is some difference, however, in the case of
those convents which are destined more particularly
for the education of the young.  Of this nature there
are at Pome the nunnery of  Torre di Specchi,' for
the high aristocracy; that of the'Sacred Heart,' em  bracing all classes of persons; and that of the' Ursu
319 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
lines,' for the middle class.; * * At the' Sacred
Heart,' the instruction given is certainly better than
at other convents; but let us examine its character.
Geography is taught; it may, however, be denominated geography applied to Jesuitism. Respecting every country and kingdom described, it is explained
whether there be Jesuits in it, how much good they
have done if there, how much evil has resulted if they
have been driven away. History is taught; with the
sole design, however, of convincing that Popery and
JesuLitism are the only source of all good, and that
where these have not been found, every crime and horror has thriven.  Thus the young mind is so thoroughly imbued with prejudice, that it shudders at the bare
mention of Henry the Eighth, Cromwell, or Washington.  *  *J The religious instruction consists of weak
superstitions. She who can best adorn the image of
her favorite saint, whom she changes every month, is
the most devout.
NATURAL AFFECTIONS DESTROYED.
"That, however, which constitutes the chief object
of instruction, and wherein the nuns wonderfully succeed, is the eradication of filial love and respect, to be
supplanted by a blind obedience to the priests. And
thus it is that they proceed. Two principal motives
are brought into play for this purpose-pride and religion. They begin by exalting the freedom of the individual. They say that it is a gift of God, and we
must not suffer it to be taken away. A doctrine most
true; but listen to the application. The parents of
the young girl propose to her, for instance, a match,
320 
LETTER FROM DR. DE SANCTIS.
it may be most desirable. The young girl has been
taught to look upon this proposal as an attempt upon
her individual liberty, and she accordingly declines.
Her parents endeavor to persuade her; they urge that
they do not wish to compel her assent, but only recommend what seems for the best.   She, however, has
learned from the nuns a quantity of stories about
young people who have been rendered miserable by
acceding to the will of their parents, and she persists
in her refusal. The parents then are obliged to go to
the confessor, and obtain of him that he will persuade
the young girl. The confessor gathers information respecting the person in question, and if the match suit
the Jesuits, the young girl will be persuaded, other wise her disinclination will increase. Say what you
will of the father and mother being her best friends,
the most deserving of confidence-domestic life has
become extinguished in the convent; for its inmate
there is no father but the confessor, no mother but the
'mistress mother.'
"But, beside this motive of self-will, that of relig ion is brought in to set aside the parental right. This
seems incredible; it is nevertheless a fact.  The fa vorite principle that constitutes the theme of the ex hortations of the' mistress mother' is the explanation
-I should say, rather, the infamous perversion, of a
passage in the Gospel,' He that loveth father or moth er more than me, is not worthy of me.' From this
text they inculcate upon these youthful minds that
when they feel themselves inspired to do or not to do
any thing, they are not to listen to their parents, who
may command or counsel them against that inspira                          0 2
321 
MIISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
tion, otherwise they would love father or mother more
than Jesus Christ, and render themselves unworthy
oi him.  Then, to assure themselves of such inspiration, there is but one method-to consult the confessor.  The confessor, being consulted, replies that first
of all it is requisite to spend some time in prayer; he
therefore prescribes a' 2ovena' [nine days' devotion]
to the' Sacred Heart,' or to some favorite saint; meanLwhile he ascertains the facts of the case.  If the result of this inquiry be favorable, and the young girl
feels herself inspired to say _-o, then he shows her
that the inspiration is a temptation which must be
withstood.  If his decision be negative, then the opinion of the confessor, harmonizing with the no of the
young girl, proves it to be a real inspiration from God.
The whole family may go to ruin, it matters not, because' lie that loveth father or mother more than me,
is not worthy of me.'
"With such principles as these, a young person educatedl at a convent becomes a blind instrument in the
handcls of the Jesuits.  Imagine how good a daughter,
wife, and mother she will prove.
"I have thus given you, dear sir, a rapid sketch of
thie nunneries of Rome.   I can assure you that I have
stated only what I have seen and known from close
observation, to the truth of which I pledge myself.
Believe me your devoted servant and brother in Jesus
Christ,                 L. DE SANCTIS, D.D.,
" Minister of the Holy Gospel.
"LONDON, Sept. 20th, 1855."
322 
REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
VIII. REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
if the testimony of individual witnesses, well authenticated, be yet deemed insufficient in proof of the
abuses incidental to monasticism, we have only to conelude with a brief review of the legislation that has
been found necessary, at almost every period of ecclesiastical history, for the redress of evils that have become too flagrant to be concealed.
Whether by individuals high in office in the Church
of Rome, or through the interference of civil rulers,
there have been attempted numerous reforms of the
monastic orders and checks upon the excessive corruption into which the ascetic system has always shown
an inherent proneness to run.
History tells us that in the 3iiddle Ages luxury
and vice grew to such a pitch that new rules were at
various epochs introduced, for the express purpose of
restoring a discipline which had given way to every
imaginable irregularity. With this view, the monas tery of Clugny, in Burgundy, was founded in 910,
and a considerable number of monasteries in Spain,
Italy, and Germany were reformed on the same model,
while other institutions were based upon new schemes
and stricter regulations. These, in turn, acquiring by
their special repute for sanctity fresh influence and
wealth, became proud and luxurious, and demanded,
by their mutual dissensions and jealousies, the fre  quent interposition of successive popes.   When the
sixteenth century dawned, the condition of these or  ders, for the most part, was not less debased than
in the darkest age preceding. The enormities devel
323 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
oped by the light of the Rleformation in connection
w,Tith the monasteries of Germany, Scotland, and Italy,
disgusted all enlightened men with the entire system,
and amply justified its abolishment in Protestant countries.
It was not in these alone, however, that the urgency
of reform in the monastic organizations became obvious with the spread of intelligence and cultivation
i-lroughout thie countries of Europe.   Statesmen of
Roman Catholic governments became convinced that
insufferable injuries to the welfare of nations were necessarily connected with the unrepressed growth of the
so-called " religious"' orders.   The effect of this system upon the increase of population, by the encouragement held out to celibacy; upon general industry,
by the unproductive idleness of those who thus lived
onr the earnings of others; upon the general thrift and
wealth, by their incessant grasping at the estates of
tile rich; and upon public morals, by the crimes notoriously committed within their walls-all this was apparent to the Roman Catholic legislators of the eighteenth century.  In 1781, the houses of some monastic orders were wholly abolished by Joseph II. of Austria; and those which he suffered to remain were limited to a certain number of inmnates, anId cut off from
all communication with any foreign authiority.*  In
1790, the abolition of all religious orders was decreed
in France, and the example was soon followed by the
* To the disgrace of modern civilization, a concordat has just been
effected [in the autumn of 1855] between Austria and the Pope, by
which the restoration of all these monastic establishments is authori.Od and the con-tro! of education committed to the hands of the Jesuits. 
324 
REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
majority of the Roman Catholic states of Europe. In
our own day, the republics of South America have followed in this career of reform; and still later, Sardinia
and Spain have enacted laws for the suppression of
monasteries. In the former kingdom there were nearly four hundred of these haunts of idleness, containing
some forty thousand monks and nuns, and holding
n     o)-e tn o2e hacly of the real estate of the recalm,
e(emt)ofiotaxatiorn!  The perseverance of the gov ernmenlt in effecting this reform has brought upon it
the impotent thlreat of excommunication from the Pope.
In Spain, the Cortes have passed, by large majorities,
a bill for the sale of a considerable amount of ecclesi astical property.
We have room only to signalize, in passing, some
of the developments of vice and crime made in the
course of these various attempts to redress a system
of innate corruption and propensity to perpetual dete rioration. To go back no farther than 1489, in the
reign of Henry VII. of England, a bull was issued by
Pope Innocent VIII. for the "reformation of monas  teries." In this decree the pontiff states that he has
heard with deep displeasure that many monasteries in
England have relapsed from their rules, and that many
of their inmates, having put away from themselves the
fear of God, and given themselves up to a reprobate
mind, lead a lascivious and too dissolute life. The
facts by which this declaration is corroborated in the
history of English monasteries and nunneries are too
revolting for reproduction in our pages. The enor   mous vices that led to the visitation and suppression
of these establishments in the succeeding reign of
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MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
Henry VIII. are well known. With regard to Germany and France in the preceding period, repeated
bulls of popes and decrees of councils have stereotyped
the evidence of the fact of a total and general depravation of morals in the conventual houses of men and
women throughout those countries.
As late as the close of the past century, an Italian
prelate, Scipione de Ricci, bishop of Pistoja and Prato,
undertook the reform of certain flagrant disorders existing in his own diocese.   For years this excellent
man labored to accomplish the work of expurgation.
The irregularities of life which he has depicted in his
memoirs as of common occurrence among the Dominican nuns of Tuscany are positively frightful. Crimes
unexampled and unheard of were rife within those secret inclosures.  The access and intercourse of the
monks of the corresponding order was attended with
every variety of immoral behavior. But these evils
were not of a day's growth. As far back as 1642,
petitions wvere on record, addressed to the then Grand
Duke, and signed by the representatives of the people
of Pistoja, asking for a prompt remedy of the outrages
upon decency and religion notoriously committed at
these institutions.  These repeated records, says Ricci, "showed that the spiritual ruin was beyond description, arising firom the familiarity which existed
between the monks and the nuns, and from the faciity of ingress to the convenl(s which the ononks enjoyeel.* They ate and drank with those who were their
* The reader may for himself compare these statements, and those
of Dr. De Sanctis to the same effect, with the intimations contained in
Chapter XXVIII. of the preceding narrative. Reason and reflection,
326 
REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
favorites and the most devoted to them, remaining
with them lt}e-a-lte in some cell, and even sleeping
however involuntarily, can not but pause at this singular adaptation
and correspondence of male and female orders in the monastic scheme.
The shop-keepers at Rome have for sale a "panorama" of the various
fraternities existing in that city. In these colored prints there will be
seen, on opposite pages, in their correlative garb, the "Olivetani"
Monks and" Olivetane" INuns; the "Agostiniani" and the "Penitenti
di S. Agostino;" the " Domenicani" and the "Monache di S. Domenico;" the "Carmelitani" and the " Carmelitane;" the Capuchins, Carthusians, Franciscans, Trinitarians, etc., etc., male and female, each
confronting the other in good fellowship and loving recognition, like
lawful man and wife in decent Christian wedlock. It is a general ar rangement of Romanism, and apparently not without some significance
and propriety, to establish in contiguous positions the male and female
institutions of those particular orders, who observe the same "rule,"
and derive their sanction from the same founder. Thus we have the in stitutions of the Lazarists and Sisters of Charity both at Emmettsburg,
Maryland.  The brethren are the confessors of the sisterhood.  They
have the same official head, and are regulated by the same system.
"The Superior-General of the Congregation of the Mission, or Laza rists, is ex officio Superior-General of the Daughters of Charity; and
hence their direction is confided, when practicable, to a clergyman who is
a Lazarist." These words are not an inference of our own, but the
statement of the Rev. Charles I. White, D.D., in his "Life of Mrs.
Seton, Foundress and first Superior of the Sisters or Daughters of
Charity in the United States of America," published by Dunigan &
Brother, New York, 1853; page 464, note.  Now all this would be
wvell enough, andcl perfectly unexceptionable and praiseworthy, if it had
but the sanction of God's ordinance instituted expressly for the conse  crating of this sort of relationship and mutuality of rule and life. Then
it would be legal-then it would be holy; for "marriage is honorable
in all, but"-" God will judge."
Nor let it be said that we are conjecturing where there is neither fact
nor probability to support. Of the facts, as already in some small part
specified, and elsewhere accessible in detail, the reader is competent to
judge. Of the PROBABILITIES, hear the acknowledgments of the dis   tinguished Roman Catholic historian, Dr. Lingard:
"This scheme of monastic polity," says he, "singular as it may now
appear, was once adopted in most Catholic countries. Its origin may
327 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
in the convent, in a room, indeed, set apart, but still
within the cloisters." Addressing a cardinal, Ricci
says farther: "In writing to the Pope, I would not
enter into infamous details which would horrify you.
Yet what have not these wretched Dominican monks
been guilty of? Provincials, priors, all alike, instead
of remedying the disorders committed by the confessors, have either allowed or else themselves committed
the same iniquities."
It must be added that all Ricci's efforts to reform
the convents of Tuscany were vain.  Upheld by his
enlightened sovereign, he was thwarted by all around
him; and when that prince was called from the ducal
be ascribed to the severity with which the founders of religious orders
have always prohibited every species of unnecessary intercourse between their female disciples and persons ofthe other sex. To prevent
it entirely was impracticable.  The functi6ns of the sacred ministers
had always been the exclusive privilege of the men, and they alone
were able to support the fatigues of husbandry and conduct the extensive estates which many convents had received from the piety of their
benefactors. But it was conceived that the difficulty might be dimiznished, if it could not be rem7oved; and, with this view, some monastic
legislators devised the plan of establishing double raonasteries. In the
vicinity of the edifice destined to receive the virgins who had dedicated
their chastity to God, was erected a building for the residence of a society of monks or canons, whose duty it was to officiate at the altars
and superintend the external economy of the community. The mortified and religious life, to which they had bound themselves by the most
solemn engagements, was supposed to render them superior to TEMPTATION; and, to remove even the suspicion of evil, they were strictly forbidden to enter the inclosure of the women except on particular occasions, with the permission of the Superior, and in the presence of witnesses. But the Abbess retained the supreme control over the monks
as well as the nuns: their Prior depended on her choice, and wa~
bound to regulate his conduct by her instructions."-Anglo-Saxon
Church, vol. i., p. 173.
328 
REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
throne of Tuscany to the imperial throne of Austria,
Ricci was left helpless among his enemies. He was
forced to abdicate his see, and, after enduring much
persecution and imprisonment, he ended by abjectly
humbling himself before the Pope, and signing a full
recantation drawn up for him at Rome.*
One addition to this painful recital, and we close.
In our own times, within a year past, a revelation of
monastic enormities such as must sicken the very
heart, has been laid open to the world. We have be fore us " The Petition of Ubaldus Borzinsky, of the
Order of the Brothers of 3Iercy, to Pope Pius IX."
It has just been made public.  The monastery to
which Ubaldus Borzinsky belongs is at Prague, in Bo hemia. In thirty-seven distinct and full specifications,
Borzinsky exposes a catalogue of crimes of the deep est dye, committed to his knowledge and that of the
other monks in various monasteries of the Brothers of
3Iercy in Austria. The petition commences as fol
lows:
" HOLY FATHER,-As nothing we undertake can
prove successful without the assistance of the Alost
High, I therefore earnestly implore the Holy Spirit
to communicate his enlightening influence and gracious aid in the matter I now lay before you, which
also involves an humble request.
"The task I have proposed to myself is far from
being a pleasant one, as it only exhibits painful events,
and is calculated to awaken very distressing feelings
* Nuns and Nunneries; Sketches compiled entirely from Romish
authorities.  London, 1852. Pages 242-273.
329 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
in the mind of your Holiness. But it is necessary,
in order that I may have peace in my own mind,
through the favor and grace of your Holiness, that I
should bring both to your consideration. I have also
thought of the maxim,'De' grandi e de' norti, parla
bene o taci [Of the great and of the dead, speak good
or else be silent]; but mindful, Holy Father, that
truth should not be concealed when we would appeal
to so august and holy a tribunal as yours, I commence under the help of the 3Most High."
Borzinsky then proceeds to narrate the gross immoralities of Vitus Hreschich, Prior of the Brothers
of Mercy in the monastery of Presburg, in Hungary,
and also those of the Prior Sanctus Martens. The
former of these became provincial of the order, and
then sold his priorship to the highest bidder. He was
succeeded in 1853 by Odilo Rayth, a man of notorious dissoluteness.   Next follow statements of the
seductions, adulteries, and more monstrous and unnatural offenses of priors and brothers, in a large
number of houses connected with the order in Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and at Vienna itself.  Much
of this statement is unfit for translation. We quote
only the concluding item of this shameful account.
"XXXVII. Pasehal Fiala was for twenty years
provincial of the order, and acted as his predecessor did
and as his successors have done, in selling the priorates and higher offices of the convents. * * * This
Pasehal Fiala kept two ladies in Vienna, the one
M[adame von Ledwinka, and the other Madame von.
Sebald, which many of the older brothers yet well remenmber. These females divided the greater part of
330 
REFORMATION OF CONVENTS.
the sale of priorates and other conventual offices between themselves. They lodged in the city of Vienna, in apartments consisting of four or five rooms, the
rent of which was 500 or 600 florins per annum.
They kept two or three servant-maids; and all this
expense was defrayed from the property of the sick
poor. 3Iost of the priors obtain wagon-loads of farm
produce, such as butcher's meat, butter, fowls, corn,
eggs, dried fruits, and einers of the most exquisite
wines for their own tables, the property of the poor.
If any right-minded brother of the order, whose heart
bled when he saw that the sick poor on this account
were badly attended to, and necessarily deprived of
part of their allowance, dared to make any remark re garding the injustice of these proceedings, that man
was at once marked for persecution and oppression
to the very utmost. * * *
"Help me, therefore, most Holy Father," concludes
Borzinsky, "if this my most humble petition should
ever reach your hands. In my soul I look on the
matter I have represented-and I could bring much
more before your Holiness-with deep affliction, even
now in my prison-house. Help me out of the order
altogether, most Holy Father, and I will pray for you
all my life long. I shall end my life very unhappily
unless you may exert your great power to deliver me
from the order of which I am a member.
"Your Holiness orders that our convents be visited,
that better conduct may prevail in future. The old
forgotten statutes of the order are to be restored to
their power, and to be punctually observed. Your
intentions, most I-Ioly Father, are the best; but here,
331 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
however, there will be no improvement; for even
those who observe not the new rules, nevertheless
promise to do all which you, most Holy Father, would
have them to observe. e * -It<S
' "I most respectfully kiss your Holiness's apostolic
feet, and beg you graciously to regard the petition,
which I, with child-like and profound veneration, present to the notice of your Holiness.
"(Signed),         UBALDUS BORZINSKY,
"In tlhe tonoasteWy of the Brothers of -Jercy at
"Prague, October, 1854."
How long, we ask, after a perusal of this startling
document, will it be before scenes like these shall be
acted in our own land?  Romanism is advancing with
rapid strides among us. A throng of priest-ruled emigrants presses upon our shores. The institutions of
Jesuitism, which the old governments and nations of
Europe, even the most absolute and the most thorough papal, have felt to be an intolerable burden upon
their prosperity, are already obtruded on our young
and vigorous state. Swarms of foreign priests and
nuns are settling down upon our soil, and seducing to
their prison-houses the daughters of our people. What
may be already occurring in those secret places we do
not know, nor can we foretell how soon a shuddering
public may hear the voice of exposure, in recitals like
those just echoed from distant Austria. Rome dreads
nothing so much as exposure.   Crime may be borne
with so long as it can be hushed; but "scandal7 "the disgrace and shame of notorious guilt-is the ca
332 
REFOltRIATION OF CONVENTS.
lamity of all others to be foreclosed. In view of such
a policy, we can only prognosticate results from the experience of the past. Shall we heed the voice of warning that comes to us from thence, or shall we hasten
to add to the record another example of ruin, spiritual and temporal, from the overspreading blight of
priestcraft and monasticism?
In the name of humanity, we call for the imposition
of legal limits to the arbitrary rule of the convent.  We
ask that liberty be proclaimed to the captives of a severe and cruel system. These institutions, existing
already among us, but in glaring opposition to the fundamental theories and principles of a republic; these
institutions, that are but so many organizations of despotism transplanted to our soil-we ask that liberty
of conscience and rights of self-control be extended to
their unhappy inmates; so that, though there be but
one among all those victims of delusion that is unwillingly detained, she may be sent forth to enjoy the
common privileges of the land. We ask that it be
made by law impossible for a system of peonage-a
system that involves the total surrender of personal
will, whether for life or for a stated term to be formal ly renewed-an act as yet unlegalized- a system of
moral suicide and civil death- to continue in force
among us.  We invoke the concurrence of all, wheth er Protestants or Catholics, who hold dear the hered itary rights of freemen, in petitioning our Legislatures
for the passage of some provision whereby the doors of
closed convents and all other institutions where vows
of absolute obedience are taken, shall be opened at
stated periods for the admittance of commissioners,
333
1. 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
appointed by our legislators or judges, who shall personally inquire of every individual whether she be
there of her own choice or by compulsion. The prosecution of this just demand is the scope of our desires
in sending forth this book. Without the sanction of
so worthy a purpose, the labor of its preparation would
be but ill repaid in satisfying popular inquiry, however
natural and proper. That these pages may arouse
some who read them to vigilance and effort against the
plots of which they reveal a part, is the sincere prayer
of the writer.
334 
N O T E.
THE following description of the institution at Emmettsburg is taken from the "Life of Airs. Seton,"
by the Reverend Charles I. White, D.D.,* which professes to give an authentic sketch of the sisterhood
from its foundation. It will be read, we think, with
interest.
"Although two spacious edifices had been erected
to meet the wants of St. Joseph's sisterhood and aeademny, the increasing prosperity of the institution rendered it necessary to provide additional room. For
this purpose, a large building, fifty-seven by sixty-nine
fet, and three stories high, was commenced in 1841,
connecting with the eastern extremity of the academy,
and runlning at right angles with it in a southern di rection. It is surmounted with a cupola and belvi dere, which command one of the most extensive and
delightful prospeets that can greet the eye. Having
mentioned the different buildings appropriated to scho lastic purposes, we shall briefly state the particular
uses of each.   The main edifice is distributed into
rooms for recitation, the cabinet of natural sciences,
the library, dormitories, etc., and in the lowest story
are the important arrangements of the culinary depart-*
* Published by Dunigan & Brother. New York, 1853. 
MISS BUNKLEY S BOOK.
ment. Another building in the rear contains the refectory, infirmary, bathing establishment, and a large
hall for drawing, painting, and embroidery. The lastmentioned edifice has three grand divisions: a studyroom, a hall for public exhibitions, and one for the exercises of vocal and instrumental music.
"A few years after its erection, in 1844, another
extensive structure was undertaken for the exclusive
accommodation of the sisters and novices, and was
completed in little more than twelve months, having
been occupied in September, 1845.   It stands east
and west, connecting the academy and the chapel, with
lateral projections to the south, inclosing on three sides
a court-yard seventy feet by forty in extent. The
new residence of the sisters is two hundred and thirty-two feet in developed length, and forty in width,
with two stories and a roomy attic, and is constructed
of brick and cut'stone, colored of a light slate or g'ay.
It is after the conventual style of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, with embattled parapets; highpitched roof, with dormers, surmounted by a Alfry
thirty feet high; the windows of the second story
square, with transom forming a cross; the lower windows mullioned with hood-moulds; tlhe Iateral walls
broken by buttresses; and with porches to the first
and second stories, running along the north wall.  The
building is truly Catholic in its external appearance.
.... The interior parts of the edifice are well adapted
to their sacred uses. The lower and second stories
are severally fourteen feet in height. On the first is
a cloister, running around the entire court-yard and
communicating with the chapel, and also the public
336 
rooms for the use of the community, amnong them the
Superior's apartment and chapter-room. The other
stories are occupied as dormitories, and for the infirmary, refectoryt, and other purposes."-P. 455-7.
The chapel of the institution, consecrated in 1841,
is thus described: "This beautiful church fronts the
western extremity of the academy, at a distance of
about seventy feet. The style of its architecture is
Tuscan. It is a spacious building, one hundred and
twelve feet long, and ninety-one wide, with a lofty
steeple, and embracing at the rear end two wings, one
of which serves as a vestry-room, the other for the
orphans and strangers who wish to attend the divine
service. The body of the church is reserved for the
sisters and the young ladies of the academy. The
facade is very appropriately set off with a finely-sculp tured statue of St. Joseph, and bears a Latin inscrip tion, which states that the edifice, erected at the ex pense of the Daughters of Charity, was dedicated by
them to the glory of God in honor of their chief pa tron. As you enter the front door, on the left, is a
recess, containing an altar commemorative of the seven
dolors of the Yirgin Mother, which are exhibited by a
well-executed group in composition. This group was
presented to the chapel by a pious nobleman of France,
to obtain a share in the rich blessings which God so
readily grants to his cherished spouses. In the re cess, on the right, is an altar sacred to St. Philomena,
which the piety of former pupils has raised and dec  orated with costly gifts.     J.... In the spacious chancel
of the church rises a marble altar, of the purest white, 
and of matchless elegance; and. elevated high above
P
337
NOTE. 
MISS BUNKLEY'S BOOK.
it, in the niche of a canopy constructed of the same
rich material as the altar, stands a well-sculptured
image of the blessed Virgin, with the child Jesus in
her arms. Above the tabernacle, on either side, is
seen a cherub in the posture of profound awe and adoration before the holy of holies.  The interior of the
chapel contains, moreover, several paintings of merit."
-P. 450-1.   "The bell which hangs in the steeple
of St. Joseph's: church t is one of the many articles of
this description which were brought to this country
from Spain during the ascendency of Espartero."Note, p. 519.        -  -
THiE END.
338 
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VOL. I. Contains the first three Numbers, "Bruno," "Willie,"
and "Strait Gate."-VOL. II. "The Little Louvre," "Prank," and
"Emma."-VOL. III. "Virginia," " Timboo and Joliba," and "Timboo and Fanny."-VOL. IV. "The Harper Establishment," "Franklin," and "The Studio."
They are the best children's books ever published. They wisely avoid the introduction or discussion of religious topics, yet are such as Christian parents
may unhesitatingly place in their children's hands. The price is marvelously
low.  Twenty-five cents a number makes it about six pages of print and two excellent engravings for eace cent of the money. The engravings alone, without a
line of letter-press, would be cheap at the price. One good thing these Story Books
will certainly accomplish: henceforth inferior authorship and used-up, worn out
illustrations can not be palmed off on children. They have samples here of what
is best for them, and they are shrewd enough not to put up with any thing of lower quality.-N. Y. Daily Times.
We have heard so many fathers and mothers who recognize the pleasant duty
of guiding the minds of their children in the paths of knowledge at home, speak
in terms of the highest commendation of this series of books for children, that we
feel a desire to see them universally read among children. They constitute the
finest series of books for the young that we have seen.-Louisville Courier.
WVho is better qualified than Jacob Abbott to prepare such a work? He always
seems to have an intuitive perception of just what children want-just what will
take with them, and so serve as the medium of conveying instruction in the pleasantest form. He has begun this new series admirably, and we almost envy the
relish with which our children will read it. Now for a suggestion to parents:
instead of buying your boy some trumpery toy, give him a year's subscription to.
this charming monthly. It will cost you three dollars, indeed; but its excellent
moral hints and influence, its useful and entertaining knowledge, are worth all
that, and much more. If you think you can not afford it for one child, take it for
your childree's home circle, and let one read it aloud to the others. You'll never
regret it.-Christian Inquirer. 
HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
EACH Number of the Magazine will contain 144 octavo pages, in double columns, each year thus comprising nearly two thousand pages of the choicest Miscellaneous Literature of the day. Every number will contain numerous Pictorial
Illustrations, accurate Plates of the Fashions, a copious Chronicle of Current
Events, and impartial Notices of the important Books of the Month. The Volumes commence with the Numbers for JUNE and DECEMEBER; but Subscriptions
may commence with any number.
TERMS.-The Magazine may be obtained of Booksellers, Periodical Agents, or
trom the Publishers, at THREE DOLLARS a year, or TWENTY-FIVE CENTS a
Number. The Semi-Annual Volumes, as completed, neatly bound in Cloth, are
sold at Two Dollars each, and Muslin Covers are furnished to those who wish to
have their back Numbers uniformly bound, at Twenty-five Cents each. Eleven
Volumes are now ready, bound.
The Publishers will supply Specimen Numbers gratuitously to Agents and
Postmasters, and will make liberal arrangements with them for circunlating the
Magazine. They will also supply Clubs, of two persons at Five Dollars a year,
or five persons at Ten Dollars. Clergymen supplied at Two Dollars a year.
Numbers from the commencement can now be supplied.
The Magazine weighs over seven and not over eight ounces. The Postage upon
each Number, which must be paid quarterly in advance, is THREE CENTS.
The Publishers would give notice that that they have no Agents
for whose contracts they are responsible. Those ordering the Mag azine from Agents or Dealers must look to them for the supply of the
Work.
Each month it gladdens us and our household, to say nothing of the neighbors
who enjoy it with us. Twenty-five cents buys it-the cheapest, richest, and most
lasting luxury for the money that we know. Three dollars secures it for one
year: and what three dollars ever went so far? Put the same amount in clothes,
eating, drinking, furniture, and how much of a substantial thing is obtained? If
ideas, facts, and sentiments, have a monetary value-above all, if the humor that
refreshes, the pleasantries that bring a gentle smile, and brighten the passage of
a truth to your brain, and the happy combination of the real and the imaginative,
without which no one can live a life above the animal, are to be put in the scale
opposite to dollars and cents, then you may be certain, that if Harper were three
or four times as dear, it would amply repay its price. It is a Magazine proper,
with the idea and purpose of a Magazine-not a book, not a scientific periodical,
nor yet a supplier of light gossip and chatty anecdotes-but a Magazine that takes
every form of interesting, dignified, and attractive literature in its grasp.-South ern Times.
Its success was rapid, and has continued till the monthly issue has reached the
unprecedented number of 150,000. The volumes bound constitute of themselves
a library of miscellaneous reading, such as can not be found in the same compass
in any other publication that has come under our notice. The contents of the
Magazine are as "various as the mind of man."  In the immense amount of mat ter which it contains, it would be strange, indeed, if there was not something to
gratify every taste. The articles illustrating the natural history and resources
of our country are enough to entitle the Magazine to a place in every family where
there are children to be taught to love their native land. The Editor's Table pre sents every month an elaborately prepared essay on some topic intimately con nected with our politics, our morals, or our patriotism, while the Easy Chair and
the Drawer of the same responsible personage-doubtless a plural unit-display
gems of wit, humor, and fancy, in any quantity to suit the temper of any reader.
-Boston Courifr; 
A LIST OF NEW BOOKS,
PUBLISHED BY
HARPER & BROTHERS
Squier's Central America.
iNotes on Central America; particularly the States of Honduras
and San Salvador: their Geography, Topography, Climate, Pop  ulation, Resources, Productions, &c., &c., and-the"proposed In  teroceanic Railway.   By E. G. SQUIEa, formerly Gharg6 d'Af  faires of the United States to the Republics of Central America.
With Original Maps and Illustrations.  8vo, MIuslin, $2 00.
Napoleon at St, Helena;
Or, Interesting Anecdotes and Remarkable Conversations of the
Emperor during the Five and a Half Years of his Captivity.
Collected from the Memorials of Las Casas, O'Meara, Montholon,
Antommarchi, and, others.  By JoHN S. C. ABBOTT.  With Illus  trations.  8vo, Muslin, $2 50.
Helps's  Spanish  Conquest.
The Spanish Conquest in Amierica, and its Relation to the His  tory of Slavery, and to the Government of Colonies.  By ARTiURp
HELPS.  Large 12mo, Muslin.  (In press.)
Loomis's  Arithmetic.
A Treatise on Arithmetic, Theoretical and Practical. By ELIAS
LOOMIS, LL.D.  12mo, Sheep.
Barton's Grammar.
An Outline of the General Principles of Grammar. With a Brief
Exposition of the Chief Idiomatic Peculiarities of the English
Language. To which Questions have been added. Edited and
Enlarged by the Rev. J. GRAEPF BARTON, A.M., Professor of the
English Language and Literature in the New York Free Acad  emy. 16mo, Muslin, 371 cents.
Ewbank's Brazil.
Life in Brazil; or, a Journal of a Visit to the Landcl of the Cocoa
and the Palm. With an Appendix, containing Illustrations of
Ancient Southl American Arts, in Recently Discovered Imple-,
ments and Products of Domestic Industry, and Works in Stone,
Pottery, Gold, Silver, Bronze, &c.  By THOMAS EWBANK.  With
over 100 Illustrations. ovo, Muslin, $2 00.
1,, 11,  
NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY HARPER AND BROTHERS.
Mexico  and its Religion;
Or, Incidents of Travel in that Country during Parts of the Years
1851-52-53-54, with Historical Notices of Events connected with
Places Visited. By ROBERT A. WILsON. With Illustrations.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Parisian  Sights
and French Principles, seen through American Spectacles. By
JAMiES JACKSON JARVES.   Second Series.   With  Illustrations.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Italian Sights.
and Papal Principles, seen through American Spectacles. By
JAIES JACKSON JARVES.  With Illustrations.  12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Art Hints.
Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting.  By JAMES JACKSON JARVES.
12mo, Muslin, $1 25.
Christian Thleism:
The Testimony of Reason and Revelation to the Existence of the
Supreme Being.  By RIOBERT ANCHOR THOMPSON, M.A.  (The First
Burnett Prize of $9000 was awarded to this Treatise.) 1 2mo,
Muslin, $1 25.
A  Child's Hlistory of the  United States.
By JoiN BONNER.  2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, $1 00.  (Uniform with
Dickens's "Child's History of England.)
Lily.
A Novel.  By the Author of "The Busy Moments of an Idle
Woman." 12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
James's Old Dominion.
The Old Domninion; or, the Southampton Massacre. By G. P.
R. JAMEs, Esq.  8vo, Paper, 50 cents.
Miss Bunkley's Book.
The Testimony of an Escaped Novice from the Sisterhood of St.
Joseph, Emmettsburg, Maryland, the Mother-House of the Sisters
of Charity in the United States.  By JOSEPmNE M. IBUNKLEY.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Learning to Talk;
Or, Entertaining and Instructive Lessons in the Use of Language.
By JACOB ABBOTT.  Illustrated with 170 Engravings.  Small 4to,
Muslin, 50 cents. 
A LIST OF NEW BOOKS,
PUBLISHED BY
HARPER & BROTHERS.
Squier's Central America.
Notes on Central America; particularly the States of Honduras
and San Salvador: their Geography, Topography, Climate, Pop  ulation, Resources, Productions, &c., &c., and the"proposed In  teroceanic Railway. By E. G. SQUIERa, formerly Ghargd d'Af  faires of the United States to the Republics of Central America.
With Original Maps and Illustrations.  Svo, MIuslin, g2 00.
Napoleon  at St. Helena;
Or, Interesting Anecdotes and Remarkable Conversations of the
Emperor during the Five and a Half Years of his Captivity.
Collected from the Memorials of Las Casas, O'Meara, Montholon,
Antommarchi, and, others.  By JoHx S. C. ABBOTT.  With Illus  trations. 8vo, Muslin, $2 50.
Helps's  Spanish Conquest.
The Spanish Conquest in America, and its Relation to the His  tory of Slavery, and to the Government of Colonies.  By ARTHUR
HELPS.  Large 12mo, Muslin.  (In press.)
Loomis's  Arithmetic.
A Treatise on Arithmetic, Theoretical and Practical. By ELIAS
Looms, LL.D.   12mo, Sheep.
Barton's Grammar.
An Outline of the General Principles of Grammar.  With a Brief
Exposition of the Chief Idiomatic Peculiarities of the English
Language. To which Questions have been added. Edited and
Enlarged by the Rev. J. GRAEFF BARTON, A.M., Professor of the
English Language and Literature in the New York Free Acad  emy. 16mo, Muslin, 37 cents.
Ewbank's Brazil.
Life in Brazil; or, a Journal of a Visit to the Land of the Cocoa
and the Palm. With an Appendix, containing Illustrations of
Ancient South American Arts, in Recently Discovered  Imple  ments and Products of Domestic Industry, and Works in Stone,
Pottery, Gold, Silver, Bronze, &c. By THOMAS EWBANK. With
over 100 Illustrations.  Ovo, Muslin, $2 00.