honorable to me. The priests, she said, were not situated like other
men, being forbidden to marry; while they lived secluded, laborious, and
self-denying lives for our salvation. They might, indeed, be considered
our saviours, as without their services we could not obtain the pardon
of sin, and must go to hell. Now, it was our solemn duty, on withdrawing
from the world, to consecrate our lives to religion, to practice every
species of self-denial. We could not become too humble, nor mortify our
feelings too far; this was to be done by opposing them, and acting
contrary to them; and what she proposed was, therefore, pleasing in the
sight of God. I now felt how foolish I had been to place myself in the
power of such persons as were around me.

From what she said I could draw no other conclusion, but that I was
required to act like the most abandoned of beings, and that all my
future associates were habitually guilty of the most heinous and
detestable crimes. When I repeated my expressions of surprise and
horror, she told me that such feelings were very common at first, and
that many other nuns had expressed themselves as I did, who had long
since changed their minds. She even said, that on her entrance into the
nunnery, she had felt like me.

Doubts, she declared, were among our greatest enemies. They would lead
us to question every point of duty, and induce us to waver at every
step. They arose only from remaining imperfection, and were always
evidence of sin. Our only way was to dismiss them immediately, repent,
and confess them. They were deadly sins, and would condemn us to hell,
if we should die without confessing them. Priests, she insisted, could
not sin. It was a thing impossible. Everything that they did, and
wished, was of course right. She hoped I would see the reasonableness
and duty of the oaths I was to take, and be faithful to them.