THE SUPERNATURAL OMNIBUS (57 page)

‘“Well, if you must know,” I said, ‘while you were in the convent, I went into the church, and, after a few prayers, I sat down and fell into a reverie”; and then I told him all I have just told you, and how the words I heard had left me worried and anxious. The archbishop listened to my story in silence, and I was half afraid he would laugh at me, but at its close he seemed more serious than ever.

‘“It is a strange experience,” he said, when I had finished, “I don’t know that I envy you your curious faculty. But now I must tell you what is troubling me. When you left me to go to the church I waited in the parlour; a plain bare room with a double grille across the centre, and two or three chairs on either side of it. I sat down, and after a little while my sister came in, accompanied by one of the elder nuns - you know their rule forbids them to see a visitor alone. We talked for some time in Italian, for my sister mentioned that the other did not understand German well, but nothing was mentioned which explained why she had sent for me, and I hesitated to ask her in the presence of her companion. It struck me, however, that she seemed ill at ease, and, luckily, an opportunity arose which gave me a few words with her alone.

‘“I had inquired after the Reverend Mother, and the elder nun asked if I would like to see her. I said ‘Yes,’ and she rose and went out, saying she would go and call her to the parlour. Immediately we were alone my sister said to me, ‘Sigismund, for God’s sake go to the Holy Father and get permission to make a visitation of the convent.’ Astonished at her vehemence I answered, ‘My dear sister, whatever is the matter?’ ‘I cannot tell you,’ she replied, ‘for I am sworn to secrecy; but if you make a visitation I think you may find out for yourself.’

‘“Just at that moment the other nun returned with the Reverend Mother, so I could not ask her any more questions. You will imagine I felt in no mood for further conversation, so I simply told the Superioress that I did not wish to leave without seeing her, and after a few minutes’ conversation I gave them my blessing and left. Now my sister is a strong-minded woman, and I am convinced she would not have spoken as she did without good reason; and your curious experience makes me still more determined to look into the matter carefully.”

‘He stopped speaking, and we walked on in silence for some little time, and then I asked him, “How do you propose to proceed in the affair?”

‘“Well,” he answered, “I shall begin by going to the Vicariate, where I have a friend who is one of the secretaries to the Cardinal Vicar, and who has charge of the archives. If there is anything out of the common in the past history of the convent, he will be able to tell me. Then I shall ask for an audience with the Cardinal Vicar himself, and tell him the whole story. I have very little doubt that he will empower me to enter the enclosure and inspect the convent as his deputy, or else will appoint some discreet person to do so. If he is not prepared to take any action at all, I shall go to the Holy Father himself, and ask his permission to make a visitation in person. In the interval I will ask you to keep the whole affair a secret. I shall probably know more in a day or two, and then I will tell you how I have got on.” By this time we had reached the college again, and I said good-bye at the door, as the archbishop was evidently disinclined for further conversation.

‘During the next few days I was busy renewing my acquaintance with various favourite spots in the Eternal City, and in that congenial occupation the incident at the convent was forgotten for the time. In fact, it must have been almost a week later that, on returning to my lodgings one evening, about the hour of the Ave Maria, I found one of the archbishop’s cards on my table, with the words “Please come and see me at once”, written on it in English. Accordingly I put on my hat again, walked round to the college, and asked the porter to let the archbishop know that I had come.

‘“But his Excellency is expecting you, my Father,” replied the man; “he told me to say, when you came, that he would be in his private study, and begged you would come up to him.” I knew the way, so I thanked the porter and went upstairs, where I found the archbishop walking up and down his room as if waiting impatiently.

‘“Good,” he exclaimed, as I entered, “I was getting afraid you might not come at all tonight; and I want your help, Philip.”

‘Of course I said I was entirely at his disposal, and asked how his inquiries had prospered.

‘“Sit down, and I will tell you all about it,” he answered, and when we were both seated he continued.

‘“I went to see my friend at the Vicariate that very evening, after you had left me, and told him exactly what had happened, including your own experience.” I suppose I changed countenance at this, for he added quickly, “Don’t be annoyed with me, Philip, he is man of great piety and remarkable discretion, and he will not repeat the story without your express permission.

‘“Well, at the time he had nothing to tell me about the convent, but he promised to make a search in the archives, and see if there was anything there which seemed likely to help us; and then, on the Friday following, he sent for me. This time he had quite a dossier of papers, and we went through them together. Some of them dated from years back, and most were merely formal documents relating to the election and approval of superiors, dispensations, appointments of confessors, and other ordinary routine business. I was beginning to despair of finding anything that would help us, when we turned up a document, dated nearly twenty years ago, and headed, 'In the matter of the late Donna Anastasia Fulloni, formerly Superioress, etc., and a Petition for the admission of a Cause of Beatification - Report.’

‘“It proved to be a copy of a long formal report prepared for the Congregation of Rites, to whom the nuns had sent in a petition asking for the usual commission of inquiry into the heroic sanctity of their Superioress, then lately dead, which is the first preliminary step in a cause of canonization.

‘“The whole thing was really pitiful reading, for the evidence of the chaplain to the convent and of the medical man who attended the nun on her deathbed all went to show that the poor woman, far from being a saint, was a weak-minded creature, whose vanity had led her to practise a whole series of deceptions in order to create the impression that she was favoured with visions, ecstasies, and other divine privileges. On her deathbed she had confessed the truth, and commissioned her confessor to let the real facts be known, should this become necessary. Unfortunately, he took no action in the matter, and in the interval quite a little cultus began to grow up at her grave in the south transept of the church, attached to the convent. Then, finally, the nuns drew up and sent in the petition of which I told you. Of course, after this report, the Sacred Congregation dismissed the petition, and prohibited any further cultus. The whole incident was considered closed, and in fact it had been quite forgotten, until my visit led to the disinterring of the report I have mentioned.

‘“There was nothing else of any importance among the papers, but my friend promised to see the Cardinal Vicar and let me know what he decided; then, early on the Monday, I got a note ordering me to call at the Vicariate at noon to see the Cardinal himself.

‘“When I got there I found my friend with his Eminence, who told me that he had heard the whole story, and wished me to make a visitation of the convent as his deputy. Of course I said that I would gladly undertake the task, and then he asked me to name some discreet priest whom I should like to have with me. I

suggested your name, which he accepted at once, saying that he had met you himself; and then, as the third member of the commission he appointed his secretary the archivist, adding that he knew him to be a friend of my own. Today I received the document of authorization for the three of us to enter the enclosure, and hold a formal visitation of the convent as agents of the Cardinal Vicar; and the nuns have notice to expect us tomorrow about ten o’clock.”

‘I was not displeased to have an opportunity of solving the mystery, if there were one, so I promised to join the archbishop and his friend at the college in good time next morning, and soon afterwards went back to my lodgings.

‘Next day I reached the college about nine o’clock, and found the archbishop with his friend from the Vicariate, to whom he introduced me. The archivist was an Italian priest, about sixty years old, with white hair, and a wonderful smile that reminded me of the portraits of St Philip Neri. We talked for some little time, and got on together so well that, when the carriage was announced, I felt as if I had known him for years.

‘On arriving at the convent the archbishop produced his mandate, and the three of us were admitted into the enclosure and conducted to the chapter-room which opened off the main cloister. Here we found the whole community waiting for us, some eighteen choir-nuns and nine or ten lay-sisters. On being asked if all were present the Superioress answered that one sick nun was absent in the infirmary, and on further inquiry this one proved to be the sister of the archbishop. The archivist then explained that we had been sent by the Cardinal Vicar to hold a visitation as his deputies; and that the three of us together would interview each of the nuns in turn.

‘The community then retired, returning one by one to be interrogated by the archbishop. Most of them declared that everything about the convent was quite satisfactory, though some points of detail were mentioned; but we heard nothing to confirm our suspicion of an illicit cultus. When all had been seen, we had a few minutes’ private talk, and agreed to go through the convent first on our tour of inspection, and finally to visit the infirmary and interview the archbishop’s sister, whose sickness seemed curiously inopportune.

‘The Reverend Mother and four of the nuns then conducted us round the cloister and ground-floor rooms, and afterwards to the choir chapel upstairs. This chapel, you will remember, was really the upper portion of one transept of the church, but the nuns had re-decorated the walls in typical Roman style, with great panels of red silk damask, framed in gilded mouldings. All this time, I ought to say, I had felt in perfect health, and no suspicion of what was to happen had crossed my mind. But the moment we entered the chapel the physical oppression which I had felt in the convent church on my previous visit returned with overwhelming force.

‘Laying my hand on the archbishop’s arm, I told him in a whisper what was the matter, and he hurried me forward to a chair which stood close to the large window that opened into the church. I sank into the chair, for I was almost fainting, but after a minute or so I felt stronger and opened my eyes. Opposite to me there was a prie-dieu, placed so that anyone kneeling on it would face not towards the altar in the church beneath, but towards the side wall of the chapel.

‘“It was there the nun I saw was kneeling, Sigismund,” I whispered, “ask the Reverend Mother to take down that red silk panel.”

‘The archbishop beckoned the Superioress forward, and made the request I had suggested.

‘“But it is not meant to be removed,” the nun expostulated volubly, but with evident nervousness. “How is one to take it down without damaging it?”

‘The archbishop turned to the group standing at the entrance of the chapel. “Which is the sacristan?” he asked, and one of the nuns came forward.

‘“Remove this,” he ordered, pointing to the wall beyond the prie-dieu. The nun hesitated a moment, but a stern look from the archbishop decided her, and going up to the wall she kneeled down, as if to get at something near the floor. There was a click, as if a lock were turned, and the tall silk panel swung outwards like a door. As it did so a wild shriek of laughter rang through the chapel. It was the Superioress, whose self-control had suddenly failed her, and she burst into violent hysterics.

‘The other nuns ran forward quickly, but the archbishop’s voice rang out in a tone of command. “Let the Sub-prioress and sacristan stay here, and the rest of you take your Prioress to her room. I will send for anyone I want, when I am ready.”

‘We waited before the open panel, while the shrieks of hysterical laughter grew fainter, and finally died away in the distance, and then the archbishop turned to me.

‘“Do you feel equal to moving now, Philip?” he asked.

‘“Certainly,” I said, “the faintness has passed away”; and in fact I felt my normal self once more.

‘“Good,” he replied, “then we will continue our inspection”; and turning to the two nuns who were still with us, he bade them go before us through the door revealed in the wall.

‘You will have guessed the rest of the story already. Beyond the secret door was a small room fitted up as a chapel. In the centre was a kind of shrine, decorated with a red velvet pall or covering, elaborately embroidered in gold, and surrounded by candles. It contained the remains of the late Superioress, Anastasia Fulloni, which the nuns had exhumed from their grave in the transept beneath, after it had become a sacristy.

‘By dint of searching inquiries we found that the foolish women had refused to accept the decision of the Congregation of Rites in the matter of her beatification, and had developed a private cultus of their own; converting what had been a tribune, with a gallery opening into the transept, into the secret chapel which we had discovered so dramatically.’ The old man paused, as if his story were ended, but I could not let him leave it so incomplete.

‘Surely,’ I asked, ‘the authorities took a very grave view of the affair, did they not?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ replied he, ‘for such a thing is a most serious scandal. The archbishop reported the whole matter to the Cardinal Vicar, and a few days later was summoned to the Vatican, where he repeated it to the Holy Father in person. Within a week the convent was suppressed, each nun being sent to a different house of the Order, except the archbishop’s sister, who was allowed to choose for herself the convent she preferred. A year or two later the church and conventional buildings were handed over to one of the new religious congregations of men, which had not previously possessed a house in Rome. The newcomers destroyed the nun’s choir and opened the transept into the church once more, turning the tribune, which had formed the secret chapel, into an organ loft.