Awful Disclosures, Maria Monk [best motivational books TXT] 📗

soup, as was often the case, we were exhorted to overcome our repugnance to it, because Christ died for us. I have seen such belts as are mentioned in the ‘Awful Disclosures,’

as well as gags; but never saw them applied.

“Maria Monk left the Congregational Nunnery before I did, and became a Novice in the Hotel Dieu. I remember her entrance into the latter very well, for we had a ‘jour de cong�,’ holiday, on that occasion.

“Some short time subsequently, after school hours one afternoon, while in the school-room in the second story of the Congregational Nunnery, several of the girls standing near a window exclaimed, ‘There is Maria Monk.’ I sprang to the window to look, and saw her with several other novices, in the yard of the Hotel Dieu, among the plants which grew there. She did not appear to notice us, but I perfectly recognised her.

“I have frequently visited the public hospital of the Hotel Dieu. It is the custom there for some of the nuns and novices to enter at three o’clock, P.M., in procession with food and delicacies for the sick. I recollect some of my visits there by circumstances attending them. For instance, I was much struck, on several occasions, by the beauty of a young novice, whose slender, graceful form, and interesting appearance, distinguished her from the rest. On inquiry, I learnt that her name was Dubois, or something like it, and the daughter of an old man who had removed from the country, and lived near the Place d’Armes. She was so generally admired for her beauty, that she was called ‘la belle St.

Fran�ois’—St. Francis being the saint’s name she had assumed in the Convent.

“I frequently went to the hospital to see two of my particular friends who were novices: and subsequently to visit one who had a sore throat, and was sick for some weeks. I saw Maria Monk there many times, in the dress of a novice, employed in different ways but we were never allowed to speak to each other.

“Towards the close of the winter of 1833-4, I visited the hospital of the Hotel Dieu very frequently, to see Miss Bourke, a friend of mine, although I was not permitted to speak with her. While there one day, at the hour of ‘cong�’ or ‘collation’ which, as I before stated, was at three P.M., a procession of nuns and novices entered, and among the former I saw Maria Monk, with a black veil, &c. She perceived and recognized me; but put her finger on her lips in token of silence; and knowing how rigidly the rules were enforced, I did not speak.

“A short time afterward, I saw her again in the same place, and under similar circumstances.

“I can fix the year when this occurred, because I recollect that the nuns in the hospital stared at a red dress I wore that season; and I am certain about that time of year, because I left my galoshes at the door before I went in.

“The improper conduct of a priest was the cause of my leaving the Congregational Nunnery: for my brother saw him kissing a [illegible]

one day while he was on a visit to me, and exclaimed—‘O mon Dieu!

what a place you are in!—If father does not take you out of it I will, if I have to tear you away.’

“After the last sight I had of Maria Monk in the hospital, I never saw nor heard of her, until after I had been for some time an inhabitant of New York. I then saw an extract from ‘Awful Disclosures,’ published in a newspaper, when I was perfectly satisfied that she was the authoress, and again at liberty. I was unable for several weeks to find her residence, but at length visited the house when she was absent. Seeing an infant among a number of persons who were strangers to me, as those present will testify, I declared that it must be the child mentioned in her book, from the striking resemblance it bears to Father Phelan, whom I well know. This declaration has also been made by others.

“When Maria Monk entered, she passed across the room, without turning towards me; but I recognised her by her gait, and when she saw me she knew me at once. I have since spent many hours with her, and am entirely convinced of the truth of her story, especially as I knew many things before which tend to confirm the statements which she makes.”

[“It is superfluous to add any thing to the above testimony. Let the Roman priests of Montreal open the Hotel Dieu Nunnery for our inspection, and thus confute Maria Monk: or, Mr. Conroy is again challenged to institute a criminal process against her, or a civil suit against the publishers of her volume—They dare not place the eloped nun or her booksellers in that ‘Inquisition;’ because they know that it would only be ‘putting themselves to the torture!’”—_Ed. Prot.

Vind._]

*

From The Protestant Vindicator of March 16th.

“We recommend the following communications to all persons who doubt the wickedness of Nunneries. The young gentleman who sent us the letter is now in this city, and we have heard the same statements from other witnesses. That subterraneous passages from the Seminary to the Nunneries, we ourselves have seen, and close by the spot designated by our correspondent:—

(STATEMENT OF J. M.)

“Underground passage from the Jesuit Seminary to the Hotel Dieu Nunnery, Montreal.

“I have been informed that you are endeavoring to obtain facts and other incidental circumstances relative to the Black Nunnery, in Montreal, and the disclosures concerning it, made by Maria Monk, in which are many hard things, but hard as they are, they are not indigestible by us Canadians; we believe that she has told but a small part of what she must know, if she was but half the time there which she says she was.

Maria Monk has mentioned in her book something about the underground passage which leads from the Black Nunnery to other places in Montreal.

That fact I know by ocular demonstration, and which nine tenths of the Canadians also will not deny, for it has been opened several times by the labourers, who have been digging for the purpose of laying pipes to conduct gas and water. While preparing a place for the latter I saw one of those passages; the earth being removed by the labourers, they struck upon the top of the passage, and curiosity led them to see what was beneath, for it sounded as though there was a hollow. They accordingly removed the large flat stones which formed the top of the passage. Many persons were looking on at the time, and several of them went down into it; when they returned after a few minutes, they stated that they went but a short distance, before they came to an intersection of passages, and were afraid to proceed further. Shortly after, several priests were on the spot, and prevented the people from further examining it; and had the place shut up immediately, while they stood by and guarded it until it was all done. The appearance of that part of the passage was the same as I saw while they were laying the water pipes. The floor of it in both [illegible] where I saw it was clean to appearance, with the exception of a little dirt that fell in on opening them, and of stone flagging. I have heard much about these underground passages in Montreal, in which place I have spent the most of my days. I give you my name and residence: and if you should be called upon from any quarter for the truth of this statement. I am ready to attest it upon oath; and there are others in this city who have witnessed the same things. The places where those openings were made in the underground passages were in St.

Joseph street for the water pipes; and for the gas pipes in Notre-Dame street, near Sacrament street, at a short distance from the Seminary.

“W. M.”

*

About the close of February last, a note was sent me from a person signing himself the man who took me to the Almshouse. Soon after I had an interview with Mr. Hilliker, whom I recognised as my first protector in New York, and to whom I owe much—indeed, as I think, my life. He kindly offered to give me his testimony, which follows:—

From the New York Journal of Commerce.

(AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN HILLIKER,)

“City and County of New York, ss.

“John Hilliker, being duly sworn, doth depose and say—that one day early in the month of May, 1835, while shooting near the Third Avenue, opposite the three milestone, in company with three friends, I saw a woman sitting in a field at a short distance, who attracted our attention. On reaching her, we found her sitting with her head down, and could not make her return any answer to our questions. On raising her hat, we saw that she was weeping. She was dressed in an old calico frock, (I think of a greenish colour,) with a checked apron, and an old black bonnet. After much delay and weeping, she began to answer my questions, but not until I had got my companions to leave us, and assured her that I was a married man, and disposed to befriend her.

“She then told me that her name was Maria, that she had been a nun in a nunnery in Montreal, from which she had made her escape, on account of the treatment she had received from priests in that institution, whose licentious conduct she strongly intimated to me. She mentioned some particulars concerning the Convent and her escape. She spoke particularly of a small room where she used to attend, until the physician entered to see the sick, when she accompanied him to write down his prescriptions; and said that she escaped through a door which he sometimes entered. She added, that she exchanged her dress after leaving the nunnery, and that she came to New York in company with a man, who left her as soon as the steamboat arrived. She farther stated, that she expected soon to give birth to a child, having become pregnant in the Convent; that she had no friend, and knew not where to find one; that she thought of destroying her life; and wished me to leave her—

saying, that if I should hear of a woman being found drowned in the East River, she earnestly desired me never to speak of her.

“I asked her if she had had any food that day, to which she answered, no; and I gave her money to get some at the grocery of Mr. Cox, in the neighbourhood. She left me, but I afterwards saw her in the fields, going towards the river; and after much urgency, prevailed upon her to go to a house where I thought she might be accommodated, offering to pay her expenses. Failing in this attempt, I persuaded her, with much difficulty, to go the Almshouse; and there we got her received, after I had promised to call and see her, as she said she had something of great consequence which she wished to communicate to me, and wished me to write a letter to Montreal.

“She had every appearance of telling the truth; so much so, that I have never for a moment doubted the truth of her story, but told it to many persons of my acquaintance, with entire confidence in its truth. She seemed overwhelmed with grief, and in a very desperate state of mind. I saw her weep for two hours or more without ceasing;