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.
Not knowing which way to go to find solitude, I spoke to a little boy,
whom I saw on the wharf, and told, him I would give him some money if
he would lead me into the "_bush_". (This is the common word by which,
in Canada, we speak of the woods or forests.) When he understood what I
meant, he told me that there was no _bush_ about New York; but
consented to lead me to the most lonely place he knew of. He
accordingly set off, and I followed him, on a long walk to the upper
part of the city, and beyond, until we reached the outskirts of it.
Turning off from the road, we gained a little hollow, where were a few
trees and bushes, a considerable distance from any house; and there, he
told me, was the loneliest place with which he was acquainted. I paid
him for his trouble out of the small stock of money I had in my
possession, and let him go home, desiring him to come the next day, and
bring me something to eat, with a few pennies which I gave him.