Memorials and Other Papers | Page 7

after the publication of Kate's memoirs,
in what you may call an early stage of her literary career, though two
centuries after her personal career had closed, a regular controversy
arose upon the degree of credit due to these extraordinary confessions
(such they may be called) of the poor conscience-haunted nun. Whether
these in Kate's original MS. were entitled "Autobiographic Sketches,"
or "Selections Grave and Gay," from the military experiences of a Nun,
or possibly "The Confessions of a Biscayan Fire-Eater," is more than I
know. No matter: confessions they were; and confessions that, when at
length published, were absolutely mobbed and hustled by a gang of
misbelieving (that is, _miscreant_) critics. And this fact is most
remarkable, that the person who originally headed the incredulous party,
namely, Senor de Ferrer, a learned Castilian, was the very same who
finally authenticated, by documentary evidence, the extraordinary
narrative in those parts which had most of all invited scepticism. The
progress of the dispute threw the decision at length upon the archives of
the Spanish Marine. Those for the southern ports of Spain had been
transferred, I believe, from Cadiz and St. Lucar to Seville; chiefly,

perhaps, through the confusions incident to the two French invasions of
Spain in our own day [1st, that under Napoleon; 2dly, that under the
Due d'Angoulême]. Amongst these archives, subsequently amongst
those of Cuzco, in South America; 3dly, amongst the records of some
royal courts in Madrid; 4thly, by collateral proof from the Papal
Chancery; 5thly, from Barcelona--have been drawn together ample
attestations of all the incidents recorded by Kate. The elopement from
St. Sebastian's, the doubling of Cape Horn, the shipwreck on the coast
of Peru, the rescue of the royal banner from the Indians of Chili, the
fatal duel in the dark, the astonishing passage of the Andes, the tragical
scenes at Tucuman and Cuzco, the return to Spain in obedience to a
royal and a papal summons, the visit to Rome and the interview with
the Pope-- finally, the return to South America, and the mysterious
disappearance at Vera Cruz, upon which no light was ever thrown--all
these capital heads of the narrative have been established beyond the
reach of scepticism: and, in consequence, the story was soon after
adopted as historically established, and was reported at length by
journals of the highest credit in Spain and Germany, and by a Parisian
journal so cautious and so distinguished for its ability as the Revue des
Deux Mondes.
I must not leave the impression upon my readers that this complex
body of documentary evidences has been searched and appraised by
myself. Frankly I acknowledge that, on the sole occasion when any
opportunity offered itself for such a labor, I shrank from it as too
fatiguing--and also as superfluous; since, if the proofs had satisfied the
compatriots of Catalina, who came to the investigation with hostile
feelings of partisanship, and not dissembling their incredulity,--armed
also (and in Mr. de Ferrer's case conspicuously armed) with the
appropriate learning for giving effect to this incredulity,--it could not
become a stranger to suppose himself qualified for disturbing a
judgment that had been so deliberately delivered. Such a tribunal of
native Spaniards being satisfied, there was no further opening for
demur. The ratification of poor Kate's memoirs is now therefore to be
understood as absolute, and without reserve.
This being stated,--namely, such an attestation from competent
authorities to the truth of Kate's narrative as may save all readers from
my fair Westmoreland friend's disaster,--it remains to give such an

answer, as without further research can be given, to a question pretty
sure of arising in all reflective readers' thoughts-- namely, does there
anywhere survive a portrait of Kate? I answer--and it would be both
mortifying and perplexing if I could _not_-- Yes. One such portrait
there is confessedly; and seven years ago this was to be found at
Aix-la-Chapelle, in the collection of Herr Sempeller. The name of the
artist I am not able to report; neither can I say whether Herr Sempeller's
collection still remains intact, and remains at Aix-la-Chapelle.
But inevitably to most readers who review the circumstances of a case
so extraordinary, it will occur that beyond a doubt many portraits of the
adventurous nun must have been executed. To have affronted the wrath
of the Inquisition, and to have survived such an audacity, would of
itself be enough to found a title for the martial nun to a national interest.
It is true that Kate had not taken the veil; she had stopped short of the
deadliest crime known to the Inquisition; but still her transgressions
were such as to require a special indulgence; and this indulgence was
granted by a Pope to the intercession of a king--the greatest then
reigning. It was a favor that could