Awful Disclosures

M >> Maria Monk >> Awful Disclosures

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

When we reached Quebec, however I found, to my chagrin, that the ladies'
maid carefully locked the cabin-door while I was in, after the ladies
had left it, who were six or eight in number.

I said little, and made no attempts to resist the restriction put upon
me; but secretly cherished the hope of being able, by watching an
opportunity, to slip on shore at tea-time, and lose myself among the
streets of the city. Although a total stranger to Quebec, I longed to be
at liberty there, as I thought I could soon place myself among persons
who would secure me from the Catholics, each of whom I now looked upon
as an enemy.

But I soon found that my last hopes were blighted: the maid, having
received, as I presumed, strict orders from the captain, kept me closely
confined, so that escape was impossible. I was distressed, it is true,
to find myself in this condition; but I had already become accustomed to
disappointments, and therefore perhaps sunk less under this new one,
than I might otherwise have done. When the hour for departure arrived, I
was therefore still confined in the steamboat, and it was not until we
had left the shore that I was allowed to leave the cabin. The captain
and others treated me with kindness in every respect, except that of
permitting me to do what I most desired. I have sometimes suspected,
that he had received notice of my escape from some of the priests, with
a request to stop my flight, if I should go on board his boat. His wife
is a Catholic, and this is the only way in which I can account for his
conduct: still I have not sufficient knowledge of his motives and
intentions to speak with entire confidence on the subject.

My time passed heavily on board of the steamboat, particularly on my
passage up the river towards Montreal. My mind was too much agitated to
allow me to sleep, for I was continually meditating on the scenes I had
witnessed in the Convent, and anticipating with dread such as I had
reason to think I might soon be called to pass through. I bought for a
trifle while on board, I hardly know why, a small medallion with a head
upon it, and the name of Robertson, which I hung on my neck. As I sat by
day with nothing to do, I occasionally sunk into a doze for a few
minutes, when I usually waked with a start from some frightful dream.
Sometimes I thought I was running away from the priests, and closely
pursued, and sometimes had no hope of escape. But the most distressing
of my feelings were those I suffered in the course of the night. We
stopped some time at Berthier, where a number of prisoners were taken on
board, to be carried up the river; and this caused much confusion, and
added to my painful reflections.

My mind became much agitated, worse than it had been before; and what
between waking fears, and sleeping visions, I spent a most wretched
night. Sometimes I thought the priests and nuns had me shut up in a
dungeon; sometimes they were about to make away with me in a most cruel
manner. Once I dreamed that I was in some house, and a coach came up to
the door, into which I was to be put by force; and the man who seized
me, and was putting me in, had no head.

When we reached Montreal on Saturday morning, it was not daylight; and
the captain, landing, set off as I understood, to give my mother
information that I was in his boat. He was gone a long time, which led
me to conjecture that he might have found difficulty in speaking with
her; but the delay proved very favourable to me, for perceiving that I
was neither locked up nor watched, I hastened on shore, and pursued my
way into the city. I felt happy at my escape: but what was I then to do?
Whither could I go? Not to my mother: I was certain I could not remain
long with her, without being known to the priests.

My friendlessness and utter helplessness, with the dread of being
murdered in the Convent, added to thoughts of the shame which must await
me if I lived a few months, made me take a desperate resolution, and I
hurried to put it into effect.

My object was to reach the head of the Lachine Canal, which is near the
St. Lawrence, beyond the extremity of the southern suburbs. I walked
hastily along St. Paul's street, and found all the houses still shut;
then turning to the old Recollet Church, I reached Notre-Dame street,
which I followed in the direction I wished to go.

The morning was chilly, as the season was somewhat advanced: but that
was of no importance to me. Day had appeared, and I desired to
accomplish the object on which I was now bent, before the light should
much increase. I walked on, therefore, but the morning had broken bright
before I arrived at the Canal; and then I found to my disappointment
that two Canadians were at work on the hank, getting water, or doing
something else.

I was by the great basin where the boats start, and near the large canal
storehouse. I have not said what was my design; it was to drown myself.

Fearing the men would rescue me, I hesitated for some time, hoping they
would retire: but finding that they did not, I grew impatient. I stood
looking on the water; it was nearly on a level with the banks, which
shelved away, as I could perceive, for some distance, there being no
wind to disturb the surface. There was nothing in the sight which seemed
frightful or even forbidding to me; I looked upon it as the means of the
easiest death, and longed to be buried below. At length finding that the
men were not likely to leave the place, I sprung from the bank, and was
in an instant in the cold water. The shock was very severe. I felt a
sharp freezing sensation run through me, which almost immediately
rendered me insensible; and the last thing I can recollect was, that I
was sinking in the midst of water almost as cold as ice, which wet my
clothes, and covered me all over.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Awake among strangers--Dr. Robertson--Imprisoned as a vagrant--
Introduction to my mother--Stay in her house--Removal from it to Mrs.
McDonald's--Return to my mother's--Desire to get to New York--
Arrangements for going.

How long I remained in the canal I knew not; but in about three minutes,
as I conjectured, I felt a severe blow on my right side; and opening my
eyes I saw myself surrounded by men, who talked a great deal, and
expressed much anxiety and curiosity about me. They enquired of me my
name, where I lived, and why I had thrown myself into the water: but I
would not answer a word. The blow which I had felt, and which was
probably the cause of bringing me for a few moments to my senses, I
presume was caused by my falling, after I was rescued, upon the stones,
which lay thickly scattered near the water. I remember that the persons
around me continued to press me with questions, and that I still
remained silent. Some of them having observed the little medallion on my
neck, and being able to read, declared I was probably the daughter of
Dr. Robertson, as it bore the name; but to this, I also gave no answer,
and sunk again into a state of unconsciousness.

When my senses once more returned, I found myself lying in a bed covered
up warm, in a house, and heard several persons talking of the mass, from
which they had just returned. I could not imagine where I was, for my
thoughts were not easily collected, and every thing seemed strange
around me. Some of them, on account of the name on the little medallion,
had sent to Dr. Robertson, to inform him that a young woman had been
prevented from drowning herself in the basin, who had a portrait on her
neck, with his family name stamped upon it; and he had sent word, that
although she could be no relation of his, they had better bring her to
his house, as he possibly might be able to learn who she was.
Preparations were therefore made to conduct me thither; and I was soon
in his house. This was about midday, or a little later.

The doctor endeavored to draw from me some confession of my family: but
I refused; my feelings would not permit me to give him any satisfaction.
He offered to send me to my home if I would tell him where I lived; but
at length, thinking me unreasonable and obstinate, began to threaten to
send me to jail.

In a short time I found that the latter measure was determined on, and I
was soon put into the hands of the jailer, Captain Holland, and placed
in a private room in his house.

I had formerly been acquainted with his children, but had such strong
reasons for remaining unknown, that I hoped they would not recognise me;
and, as we had not met for several years I flattered myself that such
would be the case. It was, at first, as I had hoped; they saw me in the
evening, but did not appear to suspect who I was. The next morning,
however, one of them asked me if I were not sister of my brother,
mentioning his name; and though I denied it, they all insisted that I
must be, for the likeness, they said, was surprisingly strong. I still
would not admit the truth; but requested they would send for the Rev.
Mr. Esson, a Presbyterian clergyman in Montreal, saying I had something
to say to him. He soon made his appearance and I gave him some account
of myself and requested him to procure my release from confinement, as I
thought there was no reason why I should be deprived of my liberty.

Contrary to my wishes, however, he went and informed my mother. An
unhappy difference had existed between us for many years concerning
which I would not speak, were it not necessary to allude to it to render
some things intelligible which are important to my narrative. I am
willing to bear much of the blame: for my drawing part of her pension
had justly irritated her. I shall not attempt to justify or explain my
own feelings with respect to my mother, whom I still regard at least in
some degree as I ought. I will merely say, that I thought she indulged
in partialities and antipathies in her family during my childhood; and
that I attribute my entrance into the nunnery, and the misfortunes I
have suffered, to my early estrangement from home, and my separation
from the family. I had neither, seen her nor heard from her in several
years; and I knew not whether she had even known of my entrance into the
Convent, although I now learnt, that she still resided where she
formerly did.

It was therefore with regret that I heard that my mother had been
informed of my condition; and that I saw an Irishwoman, an acquaintance
of hers, come to take me to the house. I had no doubt that she would
think I had disgraced her, by being imprisoned, as well as by my attempt
to drown myself; and what would be her feelings towards me, I could only
conjecture.

I accompanied the woman to my mother's, and found nearly such a
reception as I had expected. Notwithstanding our mutual feelings were
much as they had been, she wished me to stay with her, and kept me in
one of her rooms for several weeks, and with the utmost privacy, fearing
that my appearance would lead to questions, and that my imprisonment
would become known. I soon satisfied myself that she knew little of what
I had passed through, within the few past years; and did not think it
prudent to inform her, for that would greatly have increased the risk of
my being discovered by the priests. We were surrounded by those who went
frequently to confession, and would have thought me a monster of
wickedness, guilty of breaking the most solemn vows, and a fugitive from
a retreat which is generally regarded there as a place of great
sanctity, and almost like a gate to heaven. I well knew the ignorance
and prejudices of the poor Canadians, and understood how such a person
as myself must appear in their eyes. They felt as I formerly had, and
would think it a service to religion, and to God, to betray the place of
my concealment if by chance they should find, or even suspect it. As I
had become in the eyes of Catholics, "a spouse of Jesus Christ," by
taking the veil, my leaving the Convent must appear to them a forsaking
of the Saviour.

As things were, however, I remained for some time undisturbed. My
brother, though he lived in the house, did not know of my being there
for a fortnight.

When he learnt it, and came to see me, he expressed much kindness
towards me: but I had not seen him for several years, and had seen so
much evil, that I knew not what secret motives he might have, and
thought it prudent to be reserved. I, therefore, communicated to him
nothing of my history or intentions, and rather repulsed his advances.
The truth is, I had been so long among nuns and priests, that I thought
there was no sincerity or virtue on earth.

What were my mother's wishes or intentions towards me, I was not
informed: but I found afterwards, that she must have made arrangements
to have me removed from her house, for one day a woman came to the door
with a cariole, and on being admitted to see me, expressed herself in a
friendly manner, spoke of the necessity of air and exercise for my
health, and invited me to take a ride. I consented, supposing we should
soon return: but when we reached St. Antoine suburbs, she drove up to a
house which I had formerly heard to be some kind of refuge, stopped, and
requested me to alight. My first thought was, that I should be exposed
to certain detection, by some of the priests whom I presumed officiated
there; as they had all known me in the nunnery. I could not avoid
entering; but I resolved to feign sickness, hoping thus to be placed out
of sight of the priests.

The result was according to my wishes: for I was taken to an upper room,
which was used as an infirmary, and there permitted to remain. There
were a large number of women in the house; and a Mrs. M'Donald, who has
the management of it, had her daughters in the Ursuline Nunnery at
Quebec, and her son in the college. The nature of the establishment I
could not fully understand: but it seemed to me designed to become a
nunnery at some future time.

I felt pretty safe in the house; so long as I was certain of remaining
in the infirmary; for there was nobody there who had ever seen me
before. But I resolved to avoid, if possible, ever making my appearance
below, for I felt that I could not do it without hazard of discovery.

Among other appendages of a Convent which I observed in that place, was
a confessional within the building, and I soon learnt, to my dismay,
that Father Bonin, one of the murderers of Saint Francis, was in the
habit of constant attendance as priest and confessor. The recollections
which I often indulged in of scenes in the Hotel Dieu, gave me
uneasiness and distress: but not knowing where to go to seek greater
seclusion, I remained in the infirmary week after week, still affecting
illness in the best manner I could. At length I found that I was
suspected of playing off a deception with regard to the state of my
health; and at the close of a few weeks, I became satisfied that I could
not remain longer without making my appearance below stairs. I at length
complied with the wishes I heard expressed, that I would go into the
community-room, where those in health were accustomed to assemble to
work, and then some of the women began to talk of my going to
confession. I merely expressed unwillingness at first; but when they
pressed the point, and began to insist, my fear of detection overcame
every other feeling, and I plainly declared that I would not go. This
led to an altercation, when the mistress of the house pronounced me
incorrigible, and said she would not keep me for a hundred pounds a
year. She, in fact, became so weary of having me there, that she sent to
my mother to take me away.

My mother, in consequence, sent a cariole for me, and took me again into
her house; but I became so unhappy in a place where I was secluded and
destitute of all agreeable society, that I earnestly requested her to
allow me to leave Canada. I believe she felt ready to have me removed to
a distance, that she might not be in danger of having my attempt at
self-destruction, and my confinement in prison made public.

There was a fact which I had not disclosed, and of which all were
ignorant: viz., that which had so much influence in exciting me to leave
the Convent, and to reject every idea of returning to it.

When conversing with my mother about leaving Canada, I proposed to go to
New York. She inquired why I wished to go there. I made no answer to
that question: for, though I had never been there, and knew scarcely
anything about the place, I presumed that I should find protection from
my enemies, as I knew it was in a Protestant country. I had not thought
of going to the United States before, because I had no one to go with
me, nor money enough to pay my expenses; but then a plan presented
itself to my mind, by which I thought I might proceed to New York in
safety.

There was a man who I presumed would wish to have me leave Canada, on
his own account; and that was the man I had so precipitately married
while residing at St. Denis. He must have had motives, as I thought, for
wishing me at a distance. I proposed therefore that he should be
informed that I was in Montreal, and anxious to go to the States; and
such a message was sent to him by a woman whom my mother knew.
[Footnote: Mrs. Tarbert, or M'Gan. See her affidavit. What house she
refers to I cannot conjecture.] She had a little stand for the sale of
some articles, and had a husband who carried on some similar kind of
business at the Scotch mountain. Through her husband, as I suppose, she
had my message conveyed, and soon informed me that arrangements were
made for my commencing my journey, under the care of the person to whom
it had been sent.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Singular concurrence of circumstances, which enabled me to get to the
United States--Intentions in going there--Commence my journey--Fears of
my companion--Stop at Whitehall--Injury received in a canal boat--
Arrival at New York--A solitary retreat.

It is remarkable that I was able to stay so long in the midst of
Catholics without discovery, and at last obtain the aid of some of them
in effecting my flight. There is probably not a person in Montreal, who
would sooner have betrayed me into the power of priests than that woman,
if she had known my history.

She was a frequent visitor at the Convent and the Seminary, and had a
ticket which entitled her every Monday to the gift of a loaf of bread
from the former. She had an unbounded respect for the Superior and the
priests, and seized every opportunity to please them. Now the fact that
she was willing to take measures to facilitate my departure from
Montreal, afforded sufficient evidence to me of her entire ignorance of
myself, in all respects in which I could wish her to be ignorant; and I
confided in her, because I perceived that she felt no stronger motive,
than a disposition to oblige my mother.

Should any thing occur to let her into the secret of my being a fugitive
from the Black Nunnery, I knew that I could not trust to her kindness
for an instant. The discovery of that fact would transform her into a
bitter and deadly enemy. She would at once regard me as guilty of mortal
sin, an apostate, and a proper object of persecution. And this was a
reflection I had often reason to make, when thinking of the numerous
Catholics around me. How important, then, the keeping of my secret, and
my escape before the truth should become known, even to a single person
near me.

I could realize, from the dangers through which I was brought by the
hand of God, how difficult it must be, in most cases, for a fugitive
from a nunnery to obtain her final freedom from the power of her
enemies. Even if escaped from a Convent, so long as she remains among
Catholics, she is in constant exposure to be informed against;
especially if the news of her escape is made public, which fortunately
was not the fact in my case.

If a Catholic comes to the knowledge of any fact calculated to expose
such a person, he will think it his duty to disclose it at confession;
and then the whole fraternity will be in motion to seize her.

How happy for me that not a suspicion was entertained concerning me, and
that not a whisper against me was breathed into the ear of a single
priest at confession!

Notwithstanding my frequent appearance in the street, my removals from
place to place, and the various exposures I had to discovery, contrary
to my fears, which haunted me even in my dreams, I was preserved; and as
I have often thought, for the purpose of making the disclosures which I
have made in this volume. No power but that of God, as I have frequently
thought, could ever have led me in safety through so many dangers.

I would not have my readers imagine, however, that I had at that period
any thought of making known my history to the world. I wished to plunge
into the deepest possible obscurity; and next to the fear of falling
again into the hands of the priests and Superior, I shrunk most from the
idea of having others acquainted with the scenes I had passed through.
Such a thought as publishing never entered my mind till months after
that time. My desire was, that I might meet a speedy death in obscurity,
and that my name and my shame might perish on earth together. As for my
future doom, I still looked forward to it with gloomy apprehensions: for
I considered myself as almost, if not quite, removed beyond the reach of
mercy. During all the time which had elapsed since I left the Convent, I
had received no religious instruction, nor even read a word in the
scriptures; and, therefore, it is not wonderful that I should still have
remained under the delusions in which I had been educated.

The plan arranged for the commencement of my journey was this: I was to
cross the St. Lawrence to Longueil, to meet the man who was to accompany
me. The woman who had sent my message into the country, went with me to
the ferry, and crossed the river, where, according to the appointment,
we found my companion. He willingly undertook to accompany me to the
place of my destination, and at his own expense; but declared, that he
was apprehensive we should be pursued. To avoid the priests, who he
supposed would follow us, he took an indirect route, and during about
twelve days, or nearly that, which we spent on the way, passed over a
much greater distance than was necessary. It would be needless, if it
were possible, to mention all the places we visited. We crossed
Carpenter's ferry, and were at Scotch-mountain and St. Alban's; arrived
at Champlain by land, and there took the steamboat, leaving it again at
Burlington.

As we were riding towards Charlotte, my companion entertained fears,
which, to me, appeared ridiculous; but it was impossible for me to
reason him out of them, or to hasten our journey. Circumstances which
appeared to me of no moment whatever, would influence, and sometimes
would make him change his whole plan and direction. As we were one day
approaching Charlotte, for instance, on inquiring of a person on the
way, whether there were any Canadians there, and being informed there
were not a few, and that there was a Roman Catholic priest residing
there, he immediately determined to avoid the place, and turned back,
although we were then only nine miles distant from it.

During several of the first nights after leaving Montreal, he suffered
greatly from fear; and on meeting me in the morning, repeatedly said:
"Well, thank God, we are safe so far!" When we arrived at Whitehall, he
had an idea we should run a risk of meeting priests, who he thought,
were in search of us, if we went immediately on; and insisted that we
had better stay there a little time, until they should have passed. In
spite of my anxiety to proceed, we accordingly remained there about a
week; when we entered a canal-boat to proceed to Troy.

An unfortunate accident happened to me while on our way. I was in the
cabin, when a gun, which had been placed near me, was started from its
place by the motion of the boat, caused by another boat running against
it, and striking me on my left side, threw me some distance. The shock
was violent, and I thought myself injured, but hoped the effects would
soon pass off. I was afterwards taken with vomiting blood; and this
alarming symptom several times returned; but I was able to keep up.

We came without any unnecessary delay from Troy to New York, where we
arrived in the morning, either on Thursday or Friday, as I believe: but
my companion there disappeared without informing me where he was going,
and I saw him no more. Being now, as I presumed, beyond the reach of my
enemies, I felt relief from the fear of being carried back to the
nunnery, and sentenced to death or the cells: but I was in a large city
where I had not a friend. Feeling overwhelmed with my miserable
condition, I longed for death; and yet I felt no desire to make another
attempt to destroy myself.

On the contrary, I determined to seek some solitary retreat, and await
God's time to remove me from a world in which I had found so much
trouble, hoping and believing that it would not be long.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23