The Insurrection in Paris | Page 8

door above mentioned
we passed into the Sister's garden, equally large and beautiful, though
not kept with the same care. In the centre stands a gymnasium, I
suppose for the use of the children brought up under the Sisters' care,
and further is their cemetery, a lovely spot, where, under the heavy
shade of ancient cypresses, lie bearers of some of the most ancient
names in France--"Prince of Salm-Kyrbourg, immolated under the
Terror, aged 49;" "Rochefoucauld," "De Noailles," "Montmorency,"

"the great Lafayette," the whole family of the Talleyrand-Périgords,
and legions of Princes and Princesses. Some of the vaults have been
opened, and many lead coffins, half-covered with rotting velvet and
gold lace, lie exposed to the light of day, awaiting an examination at
the hands of the Minister of Justice. At the extreme end of the garden,
however, are the three little conical huts, side by side, resembling white
ants' nests, which have been the prime cause of so much excitement
and judicial inquiry. When the Convent was occupied by the National
Guards these little huts were tenanted each by an old woman, enclosed
in a wooden cage, like a chickens' pen, the three buildings being similar
in size and construction, six feet square by seven in height, with a slate
roof, through which daylight was visible, while the three old women
were all of them hopeless idiots. The Lady Superior has kept her lips
resolutely closed up to the present time, but admitted, when first
questioned, that the three sufferers had lived in their hideous prison for
nine years, in an atmosphere of stifling heat throughout the summer and
half frozen with cold throughout the winter; "but," she added, "they
were idiots when they came." The conductor of the inquiry replied that,
if such were the case, it was illegal to have admitted them to the
Convent at all, and that even supposing them to have been admitted, the
place where they were found was not a fit dwelling-place for a dog. A
key was discovered among her papers, labelled "key of the great vault;"
but where this great vault may be has not yet been found out. The
Superior and her nuns keep a uniform and persistent silence upon the
point; excavations have been made at different points in the garden, and
under the high altar of the chapel, but hitherto without effect. At one
end of the nuns' garden stands an isolated building, in which were
found mattresses furnished with straps and buckles, also two iron
corsets, an iron skull-cap, and a species of rack turned by a cog-wheel,
evidently intended for bending back the body with force. The Superior
explained that these were orthopædic instruments--a superficial
falsehood. The mattresses and straps struck me as being easily
accounted for; I have seen such things used in French midwifery, and in
cases of violent delirium; but the rack and its adjuncts are justly objects
of grave suspicion, for they imply a use of brutal force which no
disease at present known would justify. On our way back through the
gardens our guide made a détour in order to show us a great

subterranean warehouse, where an enormous quantity of potatoes was
stored, as well as barrels full of salt pork, while in a yard hard by lay
grunting a fat pig. "Look at this!" cried our National Guard indignantly.
"Look at these stores, which might have helped to feed the starving
poor of the arrondissement during our six months' siege, and think that
these people were begging from door to door the whole time for money
to buy broken victuals for their pensioners!" Arrived at the entrance
gate our guide nudged me, telling me in whispers to look at the old
woman who was wandering about, followed by a younger one,
stooping from time to time to pick up a leaf or rub her hands with sand
and gravel. "That is Soeur Bernadine," he said, "one of the three
prisoners of the wooden cages. She is the most sane in mind of the
three, and we keep her here under the care of one of our wives to cheer
her up. She is only 50, though she looks past 70. The other two have
been removed, as they were rendered violent by the crowd and change
of scene." I passed close to her and she looked up--a soft, pale face,
with sunken eyes shaded by the frills of a great cap. She looked at me
dazedly, without taking any notice, and stooping again, filled her hands
with refuse coffee grounds, which she put into her mouth until
prevented by her companion. Without showing the least prejudice in
the matter, I think I can safely say that the ladies now shut up at St.
Lazare will find it no easy matter