Mysteries of the missing

by Edward H. Smith

“Barbara Ubrik, known under the name of Jovita, is accused of immoral actions, continued disturbances in the convent, manifold irregularities and trespasses of the rules of the convent, even of theft and cunningly plotted crime; she has refused the mercy of baptism and given her soul to the devil, for which cause she was unworthy of the holy Lord’s Supper, and by this act she has calumniated God; she has clandestinely broken the vows of purity, in so far that she held a love correspondence with the novice, Zarski, and allowed herself to elope with him; at last she has offended against the law of obedience of poverty and seclusion, and on the 25th of May, 1848, she has accomplished an escape from the convent.”

Trial was held before the abbess and judgment was thus rendered:

“The criminal has to do three days’ expiation of sins in the church, afterwards she will be lashed by all the sisters of the order and be forfeited of her clerical dignity; she herself will be considered as dead and her name will be taken from the list of the order. At last, she has forfeited the right to the holy Mass and the Lord’s Supper, and is condemned to perpetual imprisonment.”

The reader is warned not to take this as a sample of monastic life or justice as it might be discovered to-day or even as it generally existed then. Sister Jovita had simply got herself involved in one of those sad tangles of scandal which had to be kept hid at any and every price. She was the victim not of monasticism or of any form of religion but of a political situation and of her relations with other men and women, some of whom have been hard and evil from the beginning of the world, respectless of vows or trust.

In one particular, however, her treatment was a definite result of certain religious beliefs then prevalent in all strict churches. She was accused of being devil ridden or possessed by the fiend and many of her cries of anguish, screams of madness and acts of defiance were attributed to such a possession. It was then customary in certain parts of Europe to drive the devil out by means of torture. This was in no sense a belief peculiar to Catholics. Martin Luther held it, and so did John Wesley, as any historian must tell you. Therefore many of Jovita’s sufferings were the result of beliefs general in those days except among the exceptionally enlightened.

With this record copied and safely in his hand, Masilewski moved immediately and directly. One morning he and a squad of Gallician gendarmes appeared before the convent of St. Mary’s and demanded admittance in the name of the emperor. The abbess, certain what was about to happen, tried to temporize, but Masilewski entered, arrested the abbess with an imperial warrant and commanded a search of the place. The mother superior, seeing that there was nothing to be gained by resistance led the company down to the lowest cellars of the building and turned over to Masilewski a key to a damp cell.

The detective opened the door, felt rats run across his shoes as he stepped inside and found, crouched in a corner on a pile of wet straw, the shrunken form of what had been the beautiful Barbara Ubrik. She was brought forth to the light of day, to see the sheen upon the autumn trees once more and the clouds sailing in the skies. Alas, she was no Bonnivard. Life had lost its colors and symmetries for her. She had long been hopelessly mad.

There is still a detail of this famous case of mystery and detection to be told. Father Gratian had disappeared when Russia drove out the clergy. Masilewski was determined to complete his work and bring the malefactor back to answer for his crimes. After the ruin of Barbara Ubrik had been lodged in an asylum, Masilewski set out to find the priest. After seven months of wandering through Austria, Prussia and Poland, the detective was rewarded with the information that Father Gratian had gone to Hamburg. He went immediately to the great German seaboard town, searched there for months and found that the man he sought had gone to London years before.

The quest began anew in the British capital. It was like seeking a flea in a hayloft, but success came at last. Masilewski was passing through one of the obscure streets when he noticed a man with the peculiar gait and bearing of priests, which seems to mark them apart to the expert eye, no matter what their physique or dress, going into a bookstall where foreign books were sold.

The detective, who was, of course, totally unknown to Father Gratian, followed into the shop and found to his delight that the priestly person was the owner of the shop. Many of the books dealt in were German or Polish. Masilewski rummaged for a long time, made a few purchases and ingratiated himself with the bibliophile. When he left he went directly to the first book expert he could find, stuffed himself with the terms and general knowledge of the book dealer and soon returned to the little shop.