The Priests of the District of Montreal have free access to the Black
Nunnery--Crimes committed and required by them--The Pope's command to
commit indecent Crimes--Characters of the Old and New Superiors--The
timidity of the latter--I began to be employed in the Hospitals--Some
account of them--Warning given me by a sick Nun--Penance by Hanging.
I have mentioned before, that the country, as far down as Three Rivers,
is furnished with priests by the Seminary of Montreal; and that these
hundred and fifty men are liable to be occasionally transferred from
one station to another. Numbers of them are often to be seen in the
streets of Montreal, as they may find a home in the Seminary.
They are considered as haying an equal right to enter the Black Nunnery
whenever they please; and then, according to our oaths, they have
complete control over the nuns. To name all the works of shame of which
they are guilty in that retreat, would require much time and space,
neither would it be necessary to the accomplishment of my object, which
is, the publication of but some of their criminality to the world, and
the development, in general terms, of scenes thus far carried on in
secret within the walls of that Convent, where I was so long an inmate.
Secure against detection by the world, they never believed that an
eyewitness would ever escape to tell of their crimes, and declare some
of their names before the world; but the time has come, and some of
their deeds of darkness must come to the day. I have seen in the
nunnery, the priests from more, I presume, than a hundred country
places, admitted for shameful and criminal purposes: from St. Charles,
St. Denis, St. Mark's St. Antoine, Chambly, Bertier, St. John's, &c. &c.
How unexpected to them will be the disclosures I make! Shut up in a
place from which there has been thought to be but one way of egress,
and that the passage to the grave, they considered themselves safe in
perpetrating crimes in our presence, and in making us share in their
criminality as often as they chose, and conducted more shamelessly than
even the brutes. These debauchees would come in without ceremony,
concealing their names, both by night and by day, where the cries and
pains of the injured innocence of their victims could never reach the
world, for relief or redress for their wrongs; without remorse or
shame, they would glory in torturing, in the most barbarous manner, the
feelings of those under their power; telling us, at the same time, that
this mortifying of the flesh was religion, and pleasing to God.
We were sometimes invited to put ourselves to voluntary sufferings in a
variety of ways, not for a penance, but to show our devotion to God. A
priest would sometimes say to us--
"Now, which of you have love enough for Jesus Christ to stick a pin
through your cheeks?"
Some of us would signify our readiness, and immediately thrust one
through up to the head. Sometimes he would propose that we should
repeat the operation several times on the spot; and the cheeks of a
number of nuns would be bloody.
There were other acts occasionally proposed and consented to, which I
cannot name in a book. Such the Superior would sometimes command us to
perform; many of them things not only useless, and unheard of, but
loathsome and indecent in the highest possible degree. How they could
ever have been invented I never could conceive. Things were done worse
than the entire exposure of the person, though this was occasionally
required of several at once, in the presence of priests.
The Superior of the Seminary would sometimes come and inform us, that
he had received orders from the Pope, to request that those nuns who
possessed the greatest devotion and faith, should be requested to
perform some particular deeds, which he named or described in our
presence, but of which no decent or moral person could ever endure to
speak. I cannot repeat what would injure any ear, not debased to the
lowest possible degree. I am bound by a regard to truth, however, to
confess, that deluded women were found among us, who would comply with
those requests.
There was a great difference between the characters of our old and new
Superior, which soon became obvious. The former used to say she liked
to walk, because it would prevent her from becoming corpulent. She was,
therefore, very active, and constantly going about from one part of the
nunnery to another, overseeing us at our various employments. I never
saw in her any appearance of timidity: she seemed, on the contrary,
bold and masculine, and sometimes much more than that, cruel and
cold-blooded, in scenes calculated to overcome any common person. Such
a character she had exhibited at the murder of Saint Francis.
The new Superior, on the other hand, was so heavy and lame, that she
walked with much difficulty, and consequently exercised a less vigilant
oversight of the nuns. She was also of a timid disposition, or else had
been overcome by some great fright in her past life; for she was apt to
become alarmed in the night, and never liked to be alone in the dark.
She had long performed the part of an old nun, which is that of a spy
upon the younger ones, and was well known to us in that character,
under the name of Ste. Margarite. Soon after her promotion to the
station of Superior, she appointed me to sleep in her apartment, and
assigned me a sofa to lie upon. One night while, I was asleep, she
suddenly threw herself upon me, and exclaimed in great alarm, "Oh! mon
Dieu! mon Dieu! Qu'est que ça?" Oh, my God! my God! What is that? I
jumped up and looked about the room, but saw nothing, and endeavoured
to convince her that there was nothing extraordinary there. But she
insisted that a ghost had come and held her bed-curtain, so that she
could not draw it. I examined it, and found that the curtain had been
caught by a pin in the valance, which had held it back; but it was
impossible to tranquillize her for some time. She insisted on my
sleeping with her the rest of the night, and I stretched myself across
the foot of her bed, and slept there till morning.
During the last part of my stay in the Convent, I was often employed in
attending in the hospitals. There are, as I have before mentioned,
several apartments devoted to the sick, and there is a physician of
Montreal, who attends as physician to the Convent. It must not be
supposed, however, that he knows anything concerning the private
hospitals. It is a fact of great importance to be distinctly
understood, and constantly borne in mind, that he is never, under any
circumstances, admitted into the private hospital-rooms. Of those he
sees nothing more than any stranger whatever. He is limited to the care
of those patients who are admitted from the city into the public
hospital, and one of the nuns' hospitals, and these he visits every
day. Sick poor are received for charity by the institution, attended by
some of the nuns, and often go away with the highest ideas of their
charitable characters and holy lives. The physician himself might
perhaps in some cases share in the delusion.
I frequently followed Dr. Nelson through the public hospital, at the
direction of the Superior, with pen, ink, and paper in my hands, and
wrote down the prescriptions which he ordered for the different
patients. These were afterwards prepared and administered by the
attendants. About a year before I left the Convent, I was first
appointed to attend the private sick-rooms, and was frequently employed
in that duty up to the day of my departure. Of course, I had
opportunities to observe the number and classes of patients treated
there; and in what I am to say on the subject, I appeal with perfect
confidence to any true and competent witness to confirm, my words,
whenever such a witness may appear.
It would be vain for any body who has merely visited the Convent from
curiosity, or resided in it as a novice, to question my declarations.
Such a person must necessarily be ignorant of even the existence of the
private rooms, unless informed by some one else. Such rooms however,
there are, and I could relate many things which have passed there
during the hours I was employed in them, as I have stated.
One night I was called to sit up with an old nun, named Saint Clare,
who, in going down-stairs, had dislocated a limb, and lay in a
sick-room adjoining an hospital. She seemed to be a little out of her
head a part of the time, but appeared to be quite in possession of her
reason most of the night. It was easy to pretend that she was
delirious; but I considered her as speaking the truth, though I felt
reluctant to repeat what I heard her say, and excused myself from
mentioning it even at confession, on the ground that the Superior
thought her deranged.
What led her to some of the most remarkable parts of her conversation,
was a motion I made, in the course of the night, to take the light out
of her little room into the adjoining apartment, to look once more at
the sick persons there. She begged me not to leave her a moment in the
dark, for she could not bear it. "I have witnessed so many horrid
scenes," said she, "in this Convent, that I want somebody near me
constantly, and must always have a light burning in my room. I cannot
tell you," she added, "what things I remember, for they would frighten
you too much. What you have seen are nothing to them. Many a murder
have I witnessed; many a nice young creature has been killed in this
nunnery. I advise you to be very cautions--keep everything to
yourself--there are many here ready to betray you."
What it was that induced the old nun to express so much kindness to me
I could not tell, unless she was frightened at the recollection of her
own crimes, and those of others, and felt grateful for the care I took
of her. She had been one of the night-watches, and never before showed
me any particular kindness. She did not indeed go into detail
concerning the transactions to which she alluded, but told me that some
nuns had been murdered under great aggravations of cruelty, by being
gagged, and left to starve in the cells, or having their flesh burnt
off their bones with red-hot irons.
It was uncommon to find compunction expressed by any of the nuns. Habit
renders us insensible to the sufferings of others, and careless about
our own sins. I had become so hardened myself, that I find it difficult
to rid myself of many of my former false principles and views of right
and wrong.
I was one day set to wash some of the empty bottles from the cellar,
which had contained the liquid that was poured into the cemetery there.
A number of these had been brought from the corner where so many of
them were always to be seen, and placed at the head of the cellar
stairs, and there we were required to take them and wash them out. We
poured in water and rinsed them; a few drops, which got upon our
clothes, soon made holes in them. I think the liquid was called
vitriol, or some such name; and I heard some persons say, that it would
soon destroy the flesh, and even the bones of the dead. At another
time, we were furnished with a little of the liquid, which was mixed
with a quantity of water, and used in dying some cloth black, which was
wanted at funerals in the chapels. Our hands were turned very black by
being dipped in it, but a few drops of some other liquid were mixed
with fresh water and given us to wash in, which left our skin of a
bright red.
The bottles of which I spoke were made of very thick, dark-coloured
glass, large at the bottom, and, from recollection, I should say held
something less than a gallon.
I was once much shocked, on entering the room for the examination of
conscience, at seeing a nun hanging by a cord from a ring in the
ceiling, with her head downward. Her clothes had been tied round with a
leathern strap, to keep them in their place, and then she had been
fastened in that situation, with her head at some distance from the
floor. Her face had a very unpleasant appearance, being dark-coloured
and swollen by the rushing in of the blood; her hands were tied and her
mouth stopped with a large gag. This nun proved to be no other than
Jane Ray, who for some fault had been condemned to this punishment.
This was not, however, a solitary case; I heard of numbers who were
"hung," as it was called, at different times; and I saw Saint Hypolite
and Saint Luke undergoing it. This was considered a most distressing
punishment; and it was the only one which Jane Ray could not endure, of
all she had tried.
Some of the nuns would allude to it in her presence, but it usually
made her angry. It was probably practised in the same place while I was
a novice; but I never heard or thought of such a thing in those days.
Whenever we wished to enter the room for examination of conscience, we
had to ask leave; and after some delay were permitted to go, but always
under a strict charge to bend the head forward, and keep the eyes fixed
upon the floor.