“Take that thing off,” said the Mother Superior. I replied, “I cannot, reverend Mother; it’s too tight.” The nun who was present was told to help me to get it off. A deep feeling of shame came over me at being half nude!
The Mother then ordered the nun to say the “Miserere,” and while it was recited she lashed me several times with all her strength. I was determined not to utter a sound, but at last I could not restrain a smothered groan, whereat she gave me one last and cruel lash, and then ceased.
Even three weeks after she had “Disciplined” me, I had a very sore back, and it hurt me greatly to lie on it (our beds were straw put into sacks).
There was a looking-glass in the room I now occupied (nuns do not usually have them), and I looked to see if my back was marked, as it was so sore. Never shall I forget the shock it gave me. I turned quickly away, for my back was black, blue, and green all over.
I will explain to my readers what “devil” in me it was that the Lady Prioress had been attempting to drive out. You have seen how very unkind she had been to me, and, not daring to speak to her, I made a cake, which I knew her to be very fond of, and sent a note with it, begging her to be kind to me; and I told her I was willing to do anything if only she would be kind. I asked what she would have done if kindness had not been shown to her, when she asked for readmission to the Feltham convent; and I implored her, by the remembrance of that kindness which had been shown her, to be kind to me, and I signed myself, “Your loving child, M. A.,” or words as near to this as I can now remember. This was the “devil” I had at this and at all other times. The fact is, that I knew too much about her, which no other sister did, and yet I never even breathed it to a soul!
Owing to the hard life we had to lead at the convent, I was not at all strong; in fact, I frequently felt ill and tired. I was often so weary that I could have laid down and willingly died. I often found it difficult to walk downstairs and up again in the middle of the night. The novice-mistress would then sometimes roughly push me, to make me go faster. I would often faint whilst reciting the Psalms aloud, and drop down on the floor, thus always hurting my head. If Father Ignatius happened to be near, they would show me some degree of kindness; but if he was away, they would drag me out of chapel and try to make me walk upstairs, or I was roughly pushed or dragged up when I had not the strength to walk. Once I remember they put me out into the sacristy, and laid me on the step of the folding door which led to the garden, and, opening the door wide, they left me there whilst they went back to prayers. I had fainted, and on recovering I would have given anything for some water, but not a drop did they give me. After a while I got so cold, and could not move myself, but, notwithstanding my pitiable condition, I had to wait till they came out of chapel. I was only partly dressed, and it was in the depth of winter. The next day I could not speak, and had a severe attack of bronchitis.[15]
It certainly was no temptation to faint, and they must have known I was not shamming, because Father Ignatius, who was always very kind in any illness, once brought Dr. Hanson to see me whilst in a faint, who said, “It comes from weakness. This young nun is very weak.”
Once the Mother Superior actually pinned a large paper in front of me, and another on my back. On the latter was written in large letters: “Jesus”—“Mercy”—“Pray for me”—“Beware of me.” All through that day I had to wear this, and saw the partly hidden smiles, and heard the loud laugh of those about me. I did not criticize or make any objection, and tried to bear with equanimity this humiliation.
At another time she wrote a confession for me to copy, sign, and send to Father Ignatius. In this confession were these words: “I felt great repugnance to obey, when reverend Mother desired me to give up all the letters and books which reverend Father had given me.” This was untrue, but holy obedience compelled me to write the untruth, and I copied the confession out, and sent it over to the monastery. In a few hours the reverend Father came over, called a chapter, and quoted what I had written as a proof that I would not submit to the reverend Mother.
“But,” I said, “dear Father, I did not feel a repugnance, or let myself think anything; I obeyed at once.”