the shoulders to the waist; and he wore on his head, the common tufted angular cap of black silk. After waiting a moment or two for his musicians, the band appeared, and repeating their drumming, clinking, and nasal chant, led the way to the altar. The priest followed with measured steps, and with as much dignity and grace as were compatible, either with scanty petticoats, strained tight at every stride, or with an assumed carelessness of manner, which too plainly indicated his want of cordial sympathy in the ceremonies of the day; just as I have seen in the streets of a country town in England a shamefaced freemason, who has never before appeared in the glitter of gilded pasteboard, brazen out his folly by swaggering attempts at indifference, or by affecting earnest conversation with his neighbour. How much sincerity of manner, probably, would one more eruption of lava from the caldeira above our heads, have put into that priest's (and all our) actions! When he and the musicians reached the altar, prayers having been repeated in the chapel, (which we were not near enough to hear,) they returned in the same order as they went. On the left, an attendant bore a silver vase of holy BLESSING AND DISTRIBUTING THE FOOD. 33 water, which he held up to the priest, who from time to time dipped into it a brush, from which, as he walked rapidly between the tables, he sprinkled the food. The water was thrown wide of the mark, and some of the poor earnestly stretched out their heads and hands to receive the spare drops. We were told that the food which has been so blessed, is highly prized by the poor, and on this account, quite as much as for the sake of the meat itself, they show much eagerness to obtain it. Next came the distribution, which was managed by tickets, previously given, by the subscribers to the feast, to deserving poor people. It was done in perfectly good order, without hustling or scrambling; each person carrying off his share to be eaten at home. VOL. II. D CHAPTER IV. "Come pensive nun, devout and pure, With looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thy eyes." IL PENSEROSo. Convent of Nuns.-Visit.-The real Nun, and the ideal Nun. Loss to the poor of the monastic establishments. Private charity.-Climate for invalids. MAY 26, FAYAL.-This afternoon we paid a visit to the Convent of Nuns. The outside appearance of the building differed but little from that of other tall barrack-like houses near. It held seven Nuns, with their servants; and the rules confined them strictly within the walls. The entrance was a paved chamber, open to the street, where persons wishing to sell or to buy, come to a revolving drum in the wall, and talk CONVENT OF NUNS. 35 with the Nuns by putting their heads into it, and speaking through a board, while their donkeys stand and nod in the chamber. Children run in and out of it at pleasure, pursuing their games; dogs wander in without fear of molestation; and weary people, on a hot day, occasionally sit down to rest on the stone bench. narrow, steep, and awkward flight of stairs leads from the covered court to corresponding rooms above it, which communicate with each floor of the convent by means of similar wooden drums. A Into the uppermost of these rooms we went with our party. A message had been previously sent to the chief Nun, by the lady whom we accompanied, to say, that if it was convenient we wished to pay her a visit; and a polite assent having been returned, the room was prepared for our reception. An Indian mat was spread; and round it were half a dozen chairs for the party. The Nun sat behind a double grating, like an empty lion's cage. We had already passed two of these cages in the room beneath; reminding one more of a visit to a wild beast's show than of a complimentary call on tender recluses. Somehow or other, every one has such a high 36 THE IDEAL NUN. idea of a Nun,-as of some young being breathing the spotless ether of a maiden life, until she has reached a state of purity, too high for this working-day world, as so pensive and devout,-so demurely sober and steadfast, and as holding such unceasing commerce with the skies,-that venturing into her presence seems like walking on ground whereon none, under the degree of a saint, should venture to tread. Peeping on her in her seclusion is curiosity scarcely less unpardonable than that of the man who "peeped and botanized upon his mother's grave." Years, we think, make no impression on her, she never fades like a leaf, or is thought of as three score years and ten;-when she enters the convent gates the wheels of time stand still; and when she quits them (not by scaling-ladders, but by legitimate means, as by the confiscation of her convent and its revenues to assist a needy reformed government,) we pity her as "Unveiling timidly her cheek, Suffused with blushes of celestial hue, While through the convent gates to open view Softly she glides, another home to seek. An apparition more divinely bright! |