Awful Disclosures

M >> Maria Monk >> Awful Disclosures

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When I found myself safely in Goodenough's hotel, in a retired room, and
began to think alone, the most gloomy apprehensions filled my mind. I
could not eat, I had no appetite, and I did not sleep all night. Every
painful scene that I ever passed through seemed to return to my mind;
and such was my agitation, I could fix my thoughts upon nothing in
particular. I had left New York when the state of my health was far from
being established; and my strength, as may be presumed, was now much
reduced by the fatigue of travelling. I shall be able to give but a
faint idea of the feelings with which I passed that night, but must
leave it to the imagination of my readers. Now once more in the
neighborhood of the Convent, and surrounded by the nuns and priests, of
whose conduct I had made the first disclosures ever made, surrounded by
thousands of persons devoted to them, and ready to proceed to any
outrage, as I feared, whenever their interference might be desired,
there was abundant reason for my uneasiness.

I now began to realize that I had some attachment to life remaining.
When I consented to visit the city, and furnish the evidence necessary
to lay open the iniquity of the Convent, I had felt, in a measure,
indifferent to life; but now, when torture and death seemed at hand, I
shrunk from it. For myself, life could not be said to be of much value.
How could I be happy with such things to reflect upon as I had passed
through? and how could I enter society with gratification? But my infant
I could not abandon, for who would care for it if its mother died.

I was left alone in the morning by the gentlemen who had accompanied me,
as they went to take immediate measures to open the intended
investigation. Being alone I thought of my own position in every point
of view, until I became more agitated than ever. I tried to think what
persons I might safely apply to as friends; and though still undecided
what to do, I arose, thinking it might be unsafe to remain any longer
exposed, as I imagined myself, to be known and seized by my enemies.

I went from the hotel, [Footnote: It occurred to me, that I might have
been seen by some person on landing, who might recognise me if I
appeared in the streets in the same dress; and I requested one of the
female servants to lend me some of hers. I obtained a hat and shawl from
her with which I left the house. When I found myself in Notre Dame
street, the utmost indecision what to do, and the thought of my
friendless condition almost overpowered me.] hurried along, feeling as
if I were on my way to some asylum, and thinking I would first go to the
house where I had several times previously found a temporary refuge. I
did not stop to reflect that the woman was a devoted Catholic and a
friend to the Superior; but thought only of her kindness to me on former
occasions, and hastened along Notre Dame street. But I was approaching
the Seminary; and a resolution was suddenly formed to go and ask the
pardon and intercession of the Superior. Then the character of Bishop
Lartigue seemed to present an impassable obstacle; and the disagreeable
aspect and harsh voice of the man as I recalled him, struck me with
horror. I recollected him as I had known him when engaged in scenes
concealed from the eye of the world. The thought of him made me decide
not to enter the Seminary. I hurried, therefore, by the door; and the
great church being at hand, my next thought was to enter there. I
reached the steps, walked in, dipped my finger into the holy water,
crossed myself, turned to the first image I saw, which was that of Saint
Magdalen, threw myself upon my knees, and began to repeat prayers with
the utmost fervour. I am certain that I never felt a greater desire to
find relief from any of the Saints; but my agitation hardly seemed to
subside during my exercise, which continued, perhaps, a quarter of an
hour or more. I then rose from my knees, and placed myself under the
protection of St. Magdalen and St. Peter by these words: "_Je me mets
sous votre protection_"--(I place myself under your protection;) and
added, "_Sainte Marie, mere du bon pasteur, prie pour moi_"--(Holy
Mary, mother of the good shepherd, pray for me.)

I then resolved to call once more at the house where I had found a
retreat after, my escape from the nunnery, and proceeded along the
streets in that direction. On my way, I had to pass a shop kept by a
woman [Footnote: This was Mrs. Tarbert.] I formerly had an acquaintance
with. She happened to see me passing, and immediately said, "Maria is
that you? Come in."

I entered, and she soon proposed to me to let her go and tell my mother
that I had returned to the city. To this I objected. I went with her,
however, to the house of one of her acquaintances near by where I
remained some time, during which she went to my mother's and came with a
request from her, that I would have an interview with her, proposing to
come up and see me, saying that she had something very particular to say
to me. What this was, I could not with any certainty conjecture. I had
my suspicions that it might be something from the priests, designed to
get me back into their power, or, at least, to suppress my testimony.

I felt an extreme repugnance to seeing my mother, and in the distressing
state of apprehension and uncertainty in which I was, could determine on
nothing, except to avoid her. I therefore soon left the house, and
walked on without any particular object. The weather was then very
unpleasant, and it was raining incessantly. To this I was very
indifferent, and walked on till I had got to the suburbs, and found
myself beyond the windmills. Then I returned, and passed back through
the city, still not recognised by anybody.

I once saw one of my brothers, unless I was much mistaken, and thought
he knew me. If it was he, I am confident he avoided me, and that was my
belief at the time, as he went into a yard with the appearance of much
agitation. I continued to walk up and down most of the day, fearful of
stopping anywhere, lest I should be recognised by my enemies, or
betrayed into their power. I felt all the distress of a feeble,
terrified woman, in need of protection, and, as I thought, without a
friend in whom I could safely confide. It distressed me extremely to
think of my poor babe; and I had now been so long absent from it, as
necessarily to suffer much inconvenience.

I recollected to have been told, in the New York Hospital, that laudanum
would relieve distress both bodily and mental, by a woman who had urged
me to make a trial of it. In my despair, I resolved to make an
experiment with it, and entering an apothecary's shop asked for some.
The apothecary refused to give me any; but an old man who was there,
told me to come in, and inquired where I had been, and what was the
matter with me, seeing that I was quite wet through. I let him know that
I had an infant, and on his urging me to tell more, I told him where my
mother lived. He went out, and soon after returned accompanied by my
mother, who told me she had my child at home, and pressed me to go to
her house and see it, saying she would not insist on my entering, but
would bring it out to me.

I consented to accompany her; but on reaching the door, she began to
urge me to go in, saying I should not be known to the rest of the
family, but might stay there in perfect privacy. I was resolved not to
comply with this request, and resisted all her entreaties, though she
continued to urge me for a long time, perhaps half an hour. At length
she went in, and I walked away, in a state no less desperate than
before. Indeed, night was now approaching, the rain continued, and I had
no prospect of food, rest, or even shelter. I went on till I reached the
parade-ground, unnoticed, I believe, by anybody, except one man, who
asked where I was going, but to whom I gave no answer. I had told my
mother, before she had left me, that she might find me in the parade-
ground. There I stopped in a part of the open ground where there was no
probability of my being observed, and stood thinking of the many
distressing things which harassed me; suffering, indeed, from exposure
to wet and cold, but indifferent to them as evils of mere trifling
importance, and expecting that death would soon ease me of my present
sufferings. I had hoped that my mother would bring my babe to me there;
but as it was growing late, I gave up all expectation of seeing her.

At length she came, accompanied by Mr. Hoyt, who, as I afterward learnt,
had called on her after my leaving the hotel, and, at her request, had
intrusted my child to her care. Calling again after I had left her
house, she had informed him that she now knew where I was, and consented
to lead him to the spot. I was hardly able to speak or to walk, in
consequence of the hardships I had undergone; but being taken to a small
inn, and put under the care of several women, I was made comfortable
with a change of clothes and a warm bed. [Footnote: I afterward learnt,
that the two gentlemen who accompanied me from the States, had been
seeking me with great anxiety all day. I persisted in not going to my
mother's, and that was the reason why we applied to strangers for a
lodging. For some time it appeared doubtful whether I should find any
refuge for the night, as several small inns in the neighbourhood proved
to be full. At length, however, lodgings were obtained for me in one,
and I experienced kindness from the females of the house, who put me
into a warm bed, and by careful treatment soon rendered me more
comfortable. I thought I heard the voice of a woman, in the course of
the evening, whom I had seen about the nunnery, and ascertained that I
was not mistaken. I forgot to mention, that, while preparing to leave
this house the next day, Mrs. Tarbert came in and spoke with me. She
said, that she had just come from the government-house, and asked, "What
are all those men at your mother's for? what is going on there?" I told
her I could not tell. She said, "Your mother wants to speak with you
very much." I told her I would not go to her house, for I feared there
was some plan to get me into the hands of the priests. The inn in which
I was, is one near the government-house, in a block owned by the
Baroness de Montenac, or the Baroness de Longeuil, her daughter. I think
it must be a respectable house, in spite of what Mrs. Tarbert says in
her affidavit. Mrs. Tarbert is the woman spoken of several times in the
"Sequel," without being named; as I did not know how to spell her name
till her affidavit came out.]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Received into a hospitable family--Fluctuating feelings--Visits from
several persons--Father Phelan's declarations against me in his church--
Interviews with a Journeyman Carpenter--Arguments with him.

In the morning I received an invitation to go to the house of a
respectable Protestant, an old inhabitant of the city, who had been
informed of my situation; and although I felt hardly able to move, I
proceeded thither in a cariole, and was received with a degree of
kindness, and treated with such care, that I must ever retain a lively
gratitude towards the family.

On Saturday I had a visit from Dr. Robertson, to whose house I had been
taken soon after my rescue from drowning. He put a few questions to me,
and soon withdrew.

On Monday, after the close of mass, a Canadian man came in, and entered
into conversation with the master of the house in an adjoining room. He
was, as I understood, a journeyman carpenter, and a Catholic, and having
heard that a fugitive nun was somewhere in the city, began to speak on
the subject in French. I was soon informed that Father Phelan had just
addressed his congregation with much apparent excitement about myself;
and thus the carpenter had received his information. Father Phelan's
words, according to what I heard said by numerous witnesses at different
times, must have been much like the following:--

"There is a certain nun now in this city, who has left our faith, and
joined the Protestants. She has a child, of which she is ready to swear
I am the father. She would be glad in this way to take away my gown from
me. If I knew where to find her, I would put her in prison. I mention
this to guard you against being deceived by what she may say. The devil
has such a hold upon people now-a-days, that there is danger that some
might believe her story."

Before he concluded his speech, as was declared, he burst into tears,
and appeared to be quite overcome. When the congregation had been
dismissed, a number of them came round him, and he told some of them,
that I was Antichrist; I was not a human being, as he was convinced, but
an evil spirit, who had got among the Catholics, and been admitted into
the nunnery, where I had learnt the rules so that I could repeat them.
My appearance, he declared, was a fulfilment of prophecy, as Antichrist
is foretold to be coming, in order to break down, if possible, the
Catholic religion.

The journeyman carpenter had entered the house where I lodged under
these impressions, and had conversed some time on the subject, without
any suspicion that I was near. After he had railed against me with much
violence, as I afterwards learned, the master of the house informed him
that he knew something of the nun, and mentioned that she charged the
priests of the Seminary with crimes of an awful character; in reply to
which the carpenter expressed the greatest disbelief.

"You can satisfy yourself," said the master of the house, "if you will
take the trouble to step up stairs: for she lives in my family."

"I see her!" he exclaimed--"No, I would not see the wretched creature
for any thing. I wonder you are not afraid to have her in your house--
she will bewitch you all--the evil spirit!"

After some persuasion, however, he came into the room where I was
sitting, but looked at me with every appearance of dread and curiosity;
and his exclamations, and subsequent conversation, in Canadian French,
were very ludicrous.

"Eh bien," he began on first seeing me, "c'est ici la malheureuse?"
[Well, is this the poor creature?] But he stood at a distance, and
looked at me with curiosity and evident fear. I asked him to sit down,
and tried to make him feel at his ease, by speaking in a mild and
pleasant tone. He soon became so far master of himself, as to enter into
conversation. "I understood," said he, "that she has said very hard
things against the priests. How can that be true?" "I can easily
convince you," said I, "that they do what they ought not, and commit
crimes of the kind I complain of. You are married, I suppose?" He
assented. "You confessed, I presume, on the morning of your wedding
day?" He acknowledged that he did. "Then did not the priest tell you at
confession, that he had had intercourse with your intended bride, but
that it was for her sanctification, and that you must never reproach her
with it?"

This question instantly excited him, but he did not hesitate a moment to
answer it. "Yes," replied he; "and that looks black enough." I had put
the question to him, because I knew the practice to which I alluded had
prevailed at St. Denis while I was there, and believed it to be
universal, or at least very common in all the Catholic parishes of
Canada. I thought I had reason to presume, that every Catholic, married
in Canada, had had such experience, and that an allusion to the conduct
of the priest in this particular, must compel any of them to admit that
my declarations were far from being incredible. This was the effect on
the mind of the simple mechanic; and from that moment he made no more
serious questions concerning my truth and sincerity, during that
interview.

Further conversation ensued, in the course of which I expressed the
willingness which I have often declared, to go into the Convent and
point out things which would confirm, to any doubting person, the truth
of my heaviest accusations against the priests and nuns. At length he
withdrew, and afterwards entered, saying that he had been to the Convent
to make inquiries concerning me. He assured me that he had been told
that although I had once belonged to the nunnery, I was called St.
Jacques, and not St. Eustace; and that now they would not own or
recognize me. Then he began to curse me, but yet sat down, as if
disposed for further conversation. It seemed, as if he was affected by
the most contrary feelings, and in rapid succession. One of the things
he said, was to persuade me to leave Montreal. "I advise you," said he,
"to go away to-morrow." I replied that I was in no haste, and might stay
a month longer.

Then he fell to cursing me once more: but the next moment broke out
against the priests, calling them all the names he could think of. His
passion became so high against them, that he soon began to rub himself,
as the low Canadians, who are apt to be very passionate, sometimes do,
to calm their feelings, when they are excited to a painful degree. After
this explosion he again became quite tranquil, and turning to me in a
frank and friendly manner, said: "I will help you in your measures
against the priests: but tell me, first--you are going to print a book,
are you not?" "No," said I, "I have no thoughts of that."

Then he left the house again, and soon returned, saying he had been in
the Seminary, and seen a person who had known me in the nunnery, and
said I had been only a novice, and that he would not acknowledge me now.
I sent back word by him, that I would show one spot in the nunnery that
would prove I spoke the truth. Thus he continued to go and return
several times, saying something of the kind every time, until I became
tired of him. He was so much enraged once or twice during some of the
interviews, that I felt somewhat alarmed; and some of the family heard
him swearing as he went down stairs: "Ah, sacre--that is too black!"

He came at last, dressed up like a gentleman, and told me he was ready
to wait on me to the nunnery. I expressed my surprise that he should
expect me to go with him alone, and told him I had never thought of
going without some protector, still assuring, that with any person to
secure my return, I would cheerfully go all over the nunnery, and show
sufficient evidence of the truth of what I alleged.

My feelings continued to vary: I was sometimes fearful, and sometimes so
courageous as to think seriously of going into the Recollet church during
mass, with my child in my arms, and calling upon the priest to own it.
And this I am confident I should have done, but for the persuasions used
to prevent me. [Footnote: I did not make up my mind (so far as I
remember), publicly to proclaim who was the father of my child, unless
required to do so, until I learnt that Father Phelan had denied it.]

CHAPTER XXIX.

A Milkman--An Irishwoman--Difficulty in having my Affidavit taken--Legal
objection to it when taken.

Another person who expressed a strong wish to see me, was an Irish
milkman. He had heard, what seemed to have been pretty generally
reported, that I blamed none but the Irish priests. He put the question,
whether it was a fact that I accused nobody but Father Phelan. I told
him that it was not so; and this pleased him so well, that he told me if
I would stay in Montreal, I should have milk for myself and my child as
long as I lived. It is well known that strong antipathies have long
existed between the French and Irish Catholics in the city.

The next day the poor Irishman returned, but in a very different state
of mind. He was present at church in the morning, he said, when Father
Phelan told the congregation that the nun of whom he had spoken before,
had gone to court and accused him; and that he, by the power he
possessed, had struck her powerless as she stood before the judge, so
that she sunk helpless on the floor. He expressed, by the motion of his
hands, the unresisting manner in which she had sunk under the mysterious
influence, and declared that she would have died on the spot, but that
he had chosen to keep her alive that she might retract her false
accusion. This, he said, she did, most humbly, before the court;
acknowledging that she had been paid a hundred pounds as a bribe.

The first words of the poor milkman, on revisiting me, therefore, were
like these: "That's to show you what power the priest has! Didn't he
give it to you in the court? It is to be hoped you will leave the city
now." He then stated what he had heard Father Phelan say, and expressed
his entire conviction of its truth, and the extreme joy he felt on
discovering, as he supposed he had, that his own priest was innocent,
and had gained such a triumph over me.

A talkative Irish woman also made her appearance, among those who called
at the house, and urged for permission to see me. Said she, "I have
heard dreadful things are told by a nun you have here, against the
priests; and I have to convince myself of the truth. I want to see the
nun you have got in your house." When informed that I was unwell, and
not inclined at present to see any more strangers, she still showed much
disposition to obtain an interview. "Well, ain't it too bad," she asked,
"that there should be any reason for people to say such things against
the priests?" At length she obtained admittance to the room where I was,
entered with eagerness, and approached me.

"Arrah," she exclaimed, "God bless you--is this you? Now sit down, and
let me see the child. And is it Father Phelan's, God bless you? But they
say you tell about murders; and I want to know if they are all committed
by the Irish priests." "Oh no," replied I, "by no means." "Then God
bless you," said she. "If you will live in Montreal, you shall never
want. I will see that neither you nor your child ever want, for putting
part of the blame upon the French priests. I am going to Father Phelan,
and I shall tell him about it. But they say you are an evil spirit. I
want to know whether it is so or not." "Come here," said I, "feel me,
and satisfy yourself. Besides, did you ever hear of an evil spirit
having a child?"

I heard from those about me, that there was great difficulty in finding
a magistrate willing to take my affidavit I am perfectly satisfied that
this was owing to the influence of the priests to prevent my accusations
against them from been made public. One evening a lawyer, who had been
employed for the purpose, accompanied me to a French justice with an
affidavit ready prepared in English, for his signature, and informed him
that he wished him to administer to me the oath. Without any apparent
suspicion of me, the justice said, "Have you heard of the nun who ran
away from the Convent, and has come back to the city, to bear witness
against the priests?" "No matter about that now," replied the lawyer
hastily; "I have no time to talk with you--you will take this person's
oath now or not?" He could not read a word of the document, because it
was not in his own language, and soon placed his signature to the
bottom. It proved, however, that we had gained nothing by this step, for
the lawyer afterward informed us, that the laws required the affidavit
of a nun or minor to be taken before a superior magistrate.

CHAPTER XXX.

Interview with the Attorney General of the Province--Attempt to abduct
me--More interviews--A mob excited against me--Protected by two
soldiers--Convinced that an investigation of my charges could not be
obtained--Departure from Montreal--Closing reflections.

Those who had advised to the course to be pursued, had agreed to lay the
subject before the highest authorities. They soon came to the conviction
that it would be in vain to look for any favour from the Governor, and
resolved to lay it before the Attorney General as soon as he should
return from Quebec. After waiting for some time, he returned; and I was
informed, in a few days, that he had appointed an interview on the
following morning. I went at the time with a gentleman of the city, to
the house of Mr. Grant, a distinguished lawyer. In a short time a
servant invited us to walk up stairs, and we went; but after I had
entered a small room at the end of the parlour, the door was shut behind
me by Mr. Ogden, the Attorney General. A chair was given me, which was
placed with the back towards a bookcase, at which a man was standing,
apparently looking at the books; and besides the two persons I have
mentioned, there was but one more in the room, [Footnote: Unless another
was concealed--as I suspected.] Mr. Grant, the master of the house. Of
the first part of the interview I shall not particularly speak.

The two legal gentlemen at length began a mock examination of me, in
which they seemed to me to be actuated more by a curiosity no way
commendable, than a sincere desire to discover the truth, writing down a
few of my answers. In this, however, the person behind me took no active
part. One of the questions put to me was, "What are the colours of the
carpet in the Superior's room?"

I told what they were, when they turned to him, and inquired whether I
had told the truth. He answered only by a short grunt of assent, as if
afraid to speak, or even to utter a natural tone; and at the same time,
by his hastiness, showed that he was displeased that my answer was
correct. I was asked to describe a particular man I had seen in the
nunnery, and did so. My examiner partly turned round with some remark or
question which was answered in a similar spirit. I turned and looked at
the stranger, who was evidently skulking to avoid my seeing him, and yet
listening to every word that was said. I saw enough in his appearance to
become pretty well satisfied that I had seen him before; and something
in his form or attitude reminded me strongly of the person, whose name
had been mentioned. I was then requested to repeat some of the prayers
used in the nunnery, and repeated part of the office of the Virgin, and
some others.

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