Part 8

But to return. I could never find the eye of this man fixed upon me without an involuntary feeling of dread. I met him often in the streets; he always seemed neat and tidy in his person; he was civil and respectful in his deportment; never seemed to forget that society had its grades, and that circumstances had clearly designated his own. With that he seemed well contented; never, as far as I could see, seeming to feel the least desire of intruding upon that of others. This being rather a rare case in the United States, twenty years ago, at any rate, when it was difficult to get servants who knew their places, struck me as another singular feature in his manner and character, and did not at all tend to remove the unpleasant impressions which his appearance made upon my mind. Not long after this, a messenger called at my rooms to say that "Theodore------" was taken ill, and wished to see me. I was then officiating as a Romish priest, and calling to see him, was shown up stairs to the door of a garret room, into which, after a loud rap and announcing my name, I was admitted to the sick young man. He had returned to his bed before I entered, and was wrapped in a large overcloak. I asked him whether he wanted to see me, and for what purpose. He deliberately turned out of his bed, locked the door again, very respectfully handed me a chair, and asked me to sit down, as he had something very important to tell me. He wrapped himself again in his cloak, lay on the outside of the bed, and spoke to me in a firm, decided tone to the following effect:

"Sir, you have taken me for a young man, but you are mistaken. I am a girl, but not so young as 1 appeared to you in my boy's dress. I sent for you, because I want to get a _character_, and confess to you before I leave the city." I answered, "You must explain yourself more fully before you do either." I moved my chair further from the bed, and tightened my grasp upon a sword-cane which I carried in my hand. "Feel no alarm," said this now young woman; "I am as well armed as you are,"--taking from under her jacket an elegant poignard,--"I will not hurt you. I am a _lay sister_ belonging to the order of Jesuits in Stonyhurst, England, and I wear this dagger to protect myself." There was no longer any mystery in the matter. I knew now where I was, and the character of the being that stood before me. I discovered from her that she arrived in New. Orleans, some time previous, with all necessary recommendations to the priests and nuns of that city. She had the necessary "Shibboleth" from the Jesuits of Stonyhurst, to their brothers and sisters, who were then, and are now, numerous in that city. They received her with all due caution, as far as could be seen by the public; but privately in the warmest manner. Jesuits are active and diligent in the discharge of their duties to their superiors, and of course, this _sister_, who was chosen from among many for her zeal and craft, lost no time in entering on her mission. The _Sisters of Charity_ in New Orleans took immediate charge of her, recommended her as chambermaid to one of the most respectable Protestant families in the city; and having clothed her in an appropriate dress, she entered upon her employment. She was active, diligent and very competent. The young ladies of the family were delighted with her; she appeared extremely pious, but not ostentatiously so. She seemed desirous to please in all things; talked but seldom of religion, but took good care that her devotional exercises should be noticed, though she seemed to avoid such a thing. Her conduct was in every way unexceptionable. So great a favorite did she become in the family, that in a short time she became acquainted with all the circumstances and secrets, from those of the father down to those of the youngest child.

According to a custom universally in vogue among the Jesuit spies, she kept notes of every occurrence which may tend to elucidate the character of the family, never carrying them about her, but depositing them for safe keeping with the mother abbess, especially deputed to take charge of them. She soon left this family under some pretext or other, obtained from them an unqualified recommendation for honesty and competency, which, with the previous and secret arrangements of the _Sisters of Charity_, obtained for her without delay a place in another Protestant family. Here, too, she was without fault, active, honest and industrious, to all appearance. Little did these families, know that while they and their children were quietly reposing in the arms of sleep, this apparently innocent waitingmaid or chambermaid was, perhaps, in the dead hour of night, reducing to paper their conversation of the day previous, and preparing it, at least as much of it as could answer any Jesuitical purpose, to be recorded among the secret archives of the Jesuit college of Stonyhurst, from which they were to be transcopied to those of the parent college in Rome.

Thus did this lay sister continue to go from place to place, from family to family, until she became better acquainted with the politics, the pecuniary means, religious opinions, and whether favorable or not to the propagation of Popery in this country, than even the very individuals with whom she resided. No one suspected her; all believed her innocent and industrious; the only fault they could find with her, was that she seemed too fond of going from one place to another. For this, however, the _Sisters of Charity_ had some salvo or other.

This was not the best of the joke, if joke it may be called. This excellent chambermaid, or another lay Jesuit sister, wished to leave New Organs and come north to a better climate; and how-do you think, reader, the means were raised to defray the expenses of travelling? There was no difficulty in the matter. Americans can be gulled at all times. The _Sisters of Charity_ have always some friend in readiness to supply them with the means of performing _corporal works of mercy_. This friend went round to these American families where this chambermaid lived from time to time; told them that she wanted to come on as far as Baltimore; that it was a pity to have her travel as a steerage passenger; a person of her virtue and correct deportment should not be placed in a situation where she might be liable to insult or rude treatment. A cabin passage should be procured for her: she should be introduced to some respectable family who were going north, and would take charge of her. The necessary funds were immediately collected for her; the generous Protestants with whom she lived, pitying the poor girl, told her she might want the little she had earned to support herself in the north, until she could get a place. A handsome purse was soon made up, a cabin passage was engaged, and the young ladies on whom she waited made her presents of every article of dress necessary for her comfort or convenience. She was the depository of all their love-stories,--she knew the names of their lovers, she heard their love-sighs, and probably witnessed many of their tears; at all events, if there were secrets among them, they were known to her; and having made herself acquainted with the state of things in New Orleans, she started for Baltimore, laughing in her sleeves at the success of her mission so far, and at the credulity of American _dolts_, as Jesuits very properly term them.

On arriving in Baltimore, she, of course, called upon the nuns of that city, who were prepared for her reception, and had already a situation engaged for a "chambermaid whom they expected from New Orleans, and who was coming highly recommended by some of the first families in that city." She took possession of a place as soon as convenient, spent several months in that city, discharging all her duties faithfully, no one finding any fault with her, except her restlessness in not staying long with any family. Having now become acquainted with the secrets and circumstances of almost every Protestant family of note in Baltimore, and made her report to the mother abbess of the nunnery of her order in that city, she retired to the District of Columbia, and after advising with the mother abbess of the convent, she determined to change her apparent character and appearance.

By advice of _that venerable lady, the holy prioress_, on whom many of the wives of our national representatives, and even grave senators, look as an example of piety and chastity, she cut short her hair, dressed herself in a smart-looking waiter's jacket' and trowsers, and, with the best recommendations for intelligence and capacity, she, in her new dress, applied for a situation as waiter at Gadsby's Hotel in Washington city. This smart and tidy-looking young man got instant employment; and now we have the lay sister in quite a different character. His intelligent countenance,--we must not say her in future,--soon attracted the notice of some of our most eloquent statesmen. He appeared so humble, so obedient and so unattentive to anything but his own business, that those senators on whom he waited, not suspecting that he had the ordinary curiosity of servants in general, were entirely thrown off their guard, and in their conversations with one another seemed to forget their usual caution. Such in a short time was their confidence in him, that their most important papers and letters were left loose upon their tables, satisfied with saying, as they were going out, "Theodore, take care of my room and papers."

Now the Jesuit was in her glory. Now the lay sister had an opportunity of knowing many of our national secrets, as well as the private characters of some of our eminent statesmen. Now it was known whether Henry Clay was a gambler; whether Daniel Webster was a libertine; whether John C. Calhoun was an honorable but credulous man. Now it was known what value was put upon Popish influence in this country, and what were the hopes of Papist foreigners in the United States. In fact, this lay sister in male uniform, and but a waiter in Gadsby's Hotel, was thus enabled to give more correct information of the actual state of things in this country, through the General of the Jesuit Order in Rome, than the whole corps diplomatic from foreign countries then resident at our seat of government.

After relating to me in her sick room,--as the family in which she lived fancied it was,--all these circumstances, she deliberately said to me, "I want a written character from you. You must state in it that I have complied with my duty; and as it is necessary that I should wear a cap for a while, having cut off my hair, you must say that you visited me in my sick room, that I confessed to you, received the _viaticum_ and had just recovered from a violent fever in which I lost my hair. My business is not done yet," said she. "I must go to New York, where the Sisters of Charity will find a place for me as waiting-maid." It is needless to say with what reluctance any man could comply with such a request as this; and my having done so, is a stronger evidence than I have heretofore given of the indomitable strength of early education.

The conduct of this emissary of Satan, was the embodyment of all that was iniquitous and dishonorable; it was a violation of every tie that holds society together; it was a part of a system of social, political, moral, public and private treachery, which no other being than a devil or a Jesuit could devise. Yet I was a Popish priest. My education, my profession, my oath, compelled me to sanction it; and I did sanction it. The lay sister retired to New York, put on her female dress, and during some months following, acted as a chambermaid in several of the wealthiest Protestant families in that city. A few weeks after she obtained from me this character, the Rev. Mr.---------, (I will give his name in full if necessary,) President of the Jesuit college in Stonyhurst, to which I have alluded, and where this demon, now in petticoats, was a lay sister, called on me in Philadelphia. We were old acquaintances, he being Vice President of the college of Maynooth for about twelve months.

The misunderstanding between myself and the acting superior of the diocese of Pennsylvania, had just commenced, and my friend, the Jesuit, thought it his duty to call upon me. He hoped that I would abandon my schismatic course,--I was not then a heretic,--and cease to circulate the Bible among the people. He never alluded to the lay sister during our whole conversation, though he was the very man who caused her to be sent out to this country, and the one who first procured her the situation of lay sister at Stonyhurst Both were relatives, and both natives of Dublin, in Ireland.

Whether the relation of this circumstance will have the effect of putting Americans on their guard against Jesuits and nuns, I know not; and in truth, such is their apathy on the general subject of Popery, that I am tempted to say, I care not. My impression is, that until some attack is made upon an American's purse, and Popery becomes a question of dollars and cents, Jonathan will never be roused from his apathy. So far as I know Americans, as the antagonists of Popery, they will listen to no argument upon the subject, either in their national councils or in their pulpits, except to the one great argument, the "_Argumentum ad crumonam._" I will only say, "_Qui vult descipatur_."

It is unnecessary, I presume, to remark here, that the conduct of the modern fathers of the Popish church, in sending to this country the lay sister of whom I have been speaking, and encouraging her as a spy amongst our citizens, did not tend much to diminish my doubts about the veracity of the ancient fathers.

Providentially, however, another circumstance occurred, which finally decided me. It is of so atrocious a character, that if there were not several now living, who witnessed the whole transaction, I would scarcely mention it; or if I did, it could be with little or no hope of being believed by Americans, although some money is mixed up with the affair.

There lived in Philadelphia, about the year 1822 or 1823, a gentleman of high character as a sea captain and otherwise. He commanded an East-Indiaman, belonging to one of the wealthiest houses in that city. One of the firm now lives there, though at an advanced period of life. This captain of whom I speak, was in the habit of visiting Baltimore, whenever he returned from the East Indies. He was a remarkably fine-looking man, and believed to be worth from one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand dollars. He shipped largely upon his own account, and was successful.

While in Baltimore, he formed an attachment for a Roman Catholic lady of beauty, but no fortune.

The Reverend Mr. K------, the Stonyhurst Jesuit, whom I mentioned, happened to be there during one of the captain's visits to that city, to see this lady. The Jesuit having discovered who the captain was, what he was, and how much money he was worth, obtained an introduction to him from this Roman Catholic lady. He soon found that, like most men whose lives have been spent upon the sea, he was a frank, open-hearted man. A little further intimacy satisfied him, that he was deeply in love with this Popish lady. His course was now clear. The Jesuit serpent saw plainly that his prey was within striking distance; that he need only coil himself into a proper attitude and spring upon it at his leisure. He represented to the captain, that the lady to whom he was paying his attentions was one of the most amiable and excellent of her sex; highly approved of the captain's taste and judgment; with many other such observations. The captain was more and more pleased with the object of his affections, and urged his suit with increased assiduity. The Jesuit in the mean time was not idle; his eye rested with a serpent-like fascinating gaze upon the movements and money of the captain. He had private interviews with the lady. He contrived to have her become his _penitent_, and go to confession to him. 15

His control over her in future was boundless. She lost her identity as a member of society. She almost ceased to be a human being; a rational one she could not be. She became a thing, a mere thing to be shaped and moulded as her holy father the Jesuit directed. He spoke to her of the captain, of his great attachment to her, and recommended to her to marry him, but on condition that he should become a Roman Catholic. He talked eloquently of the awful consequences of having a member of the _infallible_ church unite herself to a heretic, whom she knew to be excommunicated and damned by the Pope and the holy church, as all heretics are, and finally obtained from the young lady a solemn promise that she should never marry her suitor, until he became a member of the church of Rome.

When the captain next called to see her, the lady told him that she had one objection, and only one, to marrying him; unless that was removed, she could never consent to do so; and stated to him what that objection was. The unsuspecting and frank sailor, not being a professor of any religion, and caring very little to what church he might go, replied, that he would as soon be a Roman Catholic as anything else. All things were now arranged, except the formality of uniting with the Popish church. The Jesuit was sent for, and it was agreed that the marriage should take place in a few weeks, during which time the captain, under the direction of the Jesuit, was to prepare himself for confession; a necessary preliminary for joining the Popish church.

It is a custom with Jesuits, and almost with all priests of the Romish church, to require of those who are about uniting with them, to go into what they call a retreat; viz. to enter into some retired or secluded place, where they will have an opportunity of communing with themselves, without interruption from the world or its busy citizens. The Jesuit recommended to his unfortunate dupe, the captain, to retire to--------convent, where he might be alone as much as he pleased, and where he would hear nothing but songs of praise to the Most High God, from _blessed monks and nuns_.

The captain, according to orders, entered upon his retreat. Before I proceed further, I will observe that this captain, of whom I am speaking, had a remarkably beautiful set of teeth, of which it was said he was extremely vain. He was not many days upon his retreat, when symptoms of derangement became evident; and one day, while under the influence of some natural or artificial cause--the reader may guess which--the unfortunate gentleman went down to Alexandria, called upon a dentist in that city or neighborhood, and insisted that he should pull out seven teeth from each jaw. In vain did the dentist remonstrate; out they must come, and out they did come.

The Jesuit hastened to Baltimore, called upon the lady who was engaged to be married, told her the captain was insane, beyond recovery, and that she should be thankful to the Virgin Mary, who caused this visitation in time to prevent her from being married to a madman. Judge you, Americans, of the feelings of this lady on that occasion, and say what ought to be the punishment of the incarnate fiend who occasioned them. The poor captain, though considerably recovered, continued to be partially deranged; but it assumed a character of religious gloom and melancholy. The Jesuit returned to--------, seeming to do all in his power to lighten the spiritual load which lay upon the captain's soul. He became his confessor, and soon persuaded him that the only way of saving his soul, was to convey to the order of Jesuits what property he possessed, and to become a Popish priest; that he had a visit from the Virgin Mary, who ordered him to tell him--the captain--that he must take holy orders; that there was a grand field opened for him to promote the cause of religion and the saints; that he must go forthwith to Philadelphia, where an infamous heretic called Hogan was spreading most damnable heresies. Will you believe it, Americans? It is drawing almost too heavily upon you to do so. He did come to Philadelphia, and preached against the heretic Hogan and Hoganism, a fact which fifty thousand people now living there can attest. But _quantum mutatus!_ When he left it some time before, he was a happy, honorable and fine-looking man. He was wealthy, and he obtained his wealth by honest industry. But how was he now, the distorted shadow of what he was; penniless, toothless, and a senseless fanatic, drugged into madness, and by whom?--by nuns, who act in the treble capacity of cooks, teachers, and prostitutes for Jesuits. This is harsh language indeed. Call it gross, if you please, reader; but if you will figure to yourself for a moment an honorable man, a native of these United States, a fine specimen of manly proportions and manly beauty, and then conceive this individual reduced to the condition to which I and thousands now living have seen this noble-hearted sailor of whom I have spoken, reduced, my language will appear neither harsh nor coarse.

What! must we call Jesuit assassins reverend gentlemen? Must we call robbers honest men? Must we call their accessories--nuns--ladies of virtue? Sympathizers may do so; but I do not write for them alone. I write for men of sense; I write for lovers of their God and their country; I write not for advocates of Puseyism, or such exploded fooleries as they believe in. Whatever I say, is intended for those alone who have the capacity of distinguishing between common sense and mental vagaries, and who have the honesty to call things by their proper names.

The first sermon which this unfortunate man preached against me in Philadelphia, was attended by crowds. Many had known him before he went to Baltimore. He was then universally popular, and on his return among them he was well received. His friends saw the change--the fatal change--which had taken place in his whole external configuration; but they knew not by what means it was effected. Some attributed it to self-denial, others to fanaticism, but none to the right cause. This was known only in the confessional; and under all these circumstances, it may be easily supposed that his discourses against me, however unconnected they may be, however fugitive and irrelevant as a whole, had a powerful effect upon the public mind.

Public sentiment, which up to this period sustained me in my opposition to Popery, and in my efforts to circulate the Bible, now began to flag. Popish priests and bishops went about industriously representing that this reverend convert to Popery was inspired; reported that he had visits from saints and angels, attesting the fact of his inspiration. There was no difficulty in persuading a man of his shattered constitution and now weak mind, that such was the fact; and he redoubled his efforts in trying to persuade those who attended my church, and who were becoming readers of the Bible, never to do so again. His disordered mind often "saw me in hell, side by side with Luther, and the blessed Virgin spitting in our face." "He often saw me with Ignatius Loyola, who was breaking me on the rack as a punishment for my heresies." The utterance of those wild rhapsodies were not without their effect; almost all the poor Irish Papists believed them; and it required from me more bodily and mental labor than I was able to endure, to counteract the effects of this madman's rhapsodizing.