Beauregard de Farniente - The Adventures of Father Silas

Let me be allowed to offer a few reflections respecting our mode of life, that may serve to show to what a shameful extent corruption exists among the monarchal cloister by a variety of causes, the most general of which are laziness, profligacy, cowardice, and the utter loss of propriety and honor. It is a pity, that those simple hearted souls, who imagine that religion induces men to embrace a conventual life, cannot behold the real state of things. How deeply would they blush at the abominations practised by those whom they now so blindly reverence. Let me for a while draw back the curtain, and show up a few of my worthy companions in their proper colors.

I will begin with Father Carlos, a man who revelled in sensual pleasures and every kind of vice, until he left the world in disgust and flew to the convent, to expiate his misdeeds in a life of penitence-or to rid himself of the importunity of his creditors. It seems that the latter was the real cause of his entering the fraternity, for he is still addicted to his old tastes, and would, unaided, eat and drink the whole income of the monastery.

Then comes Father Matthew, in whom the girdle of threefold cord* has wrought but little change. He flatters himself that he is an orator of no inferior kind, and that in logic Thomas Aquinas was a fool to him; while it is clear to everybody else that he is merely a drunken, prating blockhead. Of Father Boniface I could say much, little to his credit, but I feel it necessary to shorten these preliminary observations and proceed with my history. Enough will transpire therein to satisfy my reader respecting the reverend Fathers generally without my losing time and labor in drawing their individual portraits.

From all that I had seen and could infer from what passed while I was with Ambrose, more especially the gallantries of Father Polycarp and Annette, my ideas of monarchal life were anything but gloomy. I thought the gown was the dress affording the easiest access to the temple of pleasure; and my imagination rioted in the agreeable chimeras it created. Under these feelings, I received the habit of the order with real joy, when it was offered me a few days after my arrival by the Prior, who seemed to have all a father's affection for me. * The three knots symbolized the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. (Editor's note.)

I had learned enough Latin of the rector (who, by the bye, was not overburdened with it) to pass through my novitiate with honor; and I was praised as a youth whose talents promised something beyond the common track. Alas! I have made but poor use of them, having, in my excessive zeal in the service of Venus, entirely neglected applying them to any purpose advantageous to myself or others.

I will not drag the reader through the uninteresting details of my studies and disgust while a novice, but will merely touch on an incident or two that happened before I was looked on as a regular and reverend Father. I had not been long in the convent before I discovered that though the monks might lead an agreeable life, it was quite another thing with the monkling. I repented having taken the vows, but that being irremediable, I looked forward to the priesthood as the “consummation devoutly to be wished.” Being supposed the son of a gardener, my progress in my studies beyond many of my fellows produced not a little ill-will; and I was so often reproached with my birth, that I began to feel quite ashamed of it. Annette took no notice at all of me now; nor was it likely she should, as she was always surrounded by my superiors. Susan I never heard a word of, nor of Madame Dinville, after my arrival at the convent.

My mind would often be occupied with thoughts of these two personages, and I had no relief for the excitement produced by these meditations but in the application of my hand; so to my hand I had recourse, and thus forgot my troubles for a moment.

I had one day retired to a lonely spot, and was indulging in this amusement, safe, as I thought, from every eye, when a monk, who was not of my friends, suddenly broke in upon my privacy. When I saw the malignant pleasure exhibited in his countenance, I thought myself lost, feeling certain that he would publish my shame.

“Ha, ha, Brother Silas!” said he; “I did not think you capable of such things-you, the model of the convent! the eagle of theology! the…”

“Come, come,” said I sternly; “let us have no more of your ironical eulogy; you have seen me frig myself; go and tell all the convent; bring whomever you please to see me make my tenth discharge!”

“Brother Silas,” said he coolly, “it is for your own good that I speak; why do you frig yourself?”

“That's quite enough, Father Andrew,” said I; “I neither want your advice nor your jeering. Begone, or I'll…” The anger with which I said this made him lay aside his assumed seriousness, he burst into a laugh, and held out his hand towards me.

“Come, give me your hand,” said he; “I did not think you were so good a fellow; frig yourself no more; you are worthy of better fortune, and shall have something more solid than your expedient.”

I was pleased with this frankness and gave him my hand, and said:

“I am not mistrustful when one treats me in this manner, but accept your offer at once.”

“Good!” said he; “Upon my honor, I will come for you to your chamber at twelve o'clock to-night. Button up your breeches, and do not waste good powder by firing in the air in the meantime, I must now leave you; wait a few minutes before you follow, that we may not be seen together; for it might be productive of mischief. Goodbye!”

After the monk's departure, I was lost in wonder at what all this would end in. Though I could not make out what he meant, I had some reliance on his promise, and thought no more of relieving myself by imitating Onan's invention. “What does he mean,” said I to myself, “by giving me something more solid? If it is some young novice, I will have nothing to do with him.” But here I argued like a blockhead, without knowing anything about the subject. Reader, perhaps you are as much in the dark as I was then?-Exactly so, say you: what, is it true that a novice is not such a very objectionable morsel? You must send your prejudices out to grass; taste is everything. What can be more charming than a pretty lad, with a snow white skin, well shaped shoulders, fine fall of the loins, hard buttocks, an arse of a perfect oval, narrow, close, clean and without hair? This does not resemble your leatherbag-like quims where one can enter head first. But do not reproach me with inconsistency that I sometimes praise the slit, at others the arse. You must learn that I have experience in my favor; that I take a woman whenever I can, and if they run scarce, I have no objection to a fine boy. Go to the school of the Grecian sages, or to that of respectable persons of our own days; and you will learn to live.

At midnight I heard some one knock at the door of my cell, and when I opened, I saw it was the good monk come according to his promise, and he directed me to follow him.

“But where are you going to lead me?”

“To the church.”

“You are joking; what to prayers! Your humble servant, I shall go to bed.”

“Follow me, you simpleton; do you not see that I am going up into the organ loft?” said he, as he opened the door and drew me in.

You would hardly guess what I found there! There stood in the middle a table well supplied with delicacies and wines, at which sat three monks, three novices, and a young girl of twenty, as pretty as an angel. Father Casimir was the leader of the joyous company, and he gave me a kind reception.

“Father Silas,” said he, “you are welcome. Father Andrew has told me of your good qualities, and you deserve his protection. Lovemaking, eating, drinking, and laughing, are our occupation here; are you disposed to join us?”