Part 1 (1/2)
Life in the Grey Nunnery at Montreal
by Sarah J Richardson
CHAPTER I
PARENTAGE--FATHER'S MARRIAGE
I was born at St John's, New Brunswick, in the year 1835 My father was from the city of Dublin, Ireland, where he spent his youth, and received an education in accordance with the strictest rules of Roman Catholic faith and practice Early manhood, however, found hi for other scenes and distant climes He therefore left Ireland, and came to Quebec
Here he soon becaentlee land, kindly opened his door, and gave hi he ars would, ere long, fasten on his very heart-strings, and bring down his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave His only child was a lovely daughter of fourteen From what I have heard of her, I think she entle and unassu in her deportment, and her disposition aly romantic, and her mental poere almost, if not entirely uncultivated; still, she possessed sufficient strength of character to enable her to for stranger gazed upon her with adan to whisper in her ear the flattering tale of love This, of course, her parents could not approve What! give their darling to a stranger?
Never, no, never What could they do without her? Grieved that their kindness should have been thus returned, they bade hio, but like a thief he returned In the darkness of ht he stole to her chamber, and bore away from the home of her childhood, ”a father's joy, a uish of their souls when they entered that deserted chamber? How desolate their lonely hearthstone! How dark the home where her presence had scattered rainbow hues! A terrible bloas to Capt Willard; a very bitter thing thus to have his cherished plans frustrated, his brightest hopes destroyed; to see the very sun of his existence go down at midday in clouds and darkness Yes, to the stern father this sad event brought bitter, bitter grief But to the mother--that tender, affectionate mother, it was death Yea, more than death, for reason, at the first shock, reeled and tottered on its throne; then, as days and weeks passed by, and still the loved one did not return, when every effort to find her had been made in vain, then, the dread certainty settled down upon her soul that her child was lost to her forever Hope, gave place to despair, and she becath death came to her relief, and her husband was left alone
Six weary years passed over the lonely ence that his child was still living with her husband at St
John's He i her to return to her old holooly she left St John's, and in company with her husband returned to her father I was then about a year and a half old, but I have so often heard these facts related by randfather, they are indelibly impressed on my mind, and will never be erased froht her trouble at an end, that in future she should enjoy the happiness she once anticipated But, alas for all human prospects! Ere one short month had passed, difficulties arose in consequence of the difference in their religious opinions Capt Willard was a firm Protestant, while my father was quite as firm in his belief of the principles of the Roreed?” They parted in anger, andhis wife and child with his father-in-law But my mother was a faithful, devoted wife Her husband was her heart's chosen idol who separated from She therefore left her father's house, with all its luxuries and enjoyments, to follow the fortunes of one, as certainly unworthy of the pure affection thus lavished upon him As her health had been delicate for the last two years, she concluded to leaveto send for me, as soon as she was in a situation to take care of me But this was not to be Death called her away, and I saw ht back, and buried in her father's garden
Two years I rerandfather, and from him, I received the th opened a saloon, for the sale of porter, and hired a black worandfather entreated that I ht be allowed to remain Well he knew that my father was not the man to be entrusted with the care of a child--that a Porter House was no place for er liquors than porter were there drank and sold
In fact, it was said, thatevidence of this But it is of a parent I as the world may have seen in him, to me he was a kind and tender father The years I spent with hie they stand out in bold relief, strikingly contrasting with the wretchedness of et that his own rash act brought this wretchedness upon ood I know that he loved ht days of childhood, I have carefully cherished as a sacred thing He did not, however, succeed in the business he had undertaken, but lost his property and was at length coive up his saloon
I was then placed in a Roman Catholic family, where he often visited, and ever appeared to feel for me the most devoted attachment One day he came to see me in a state of partial intoxication I did not then knohy his face was so red, and his breath so offensive, but I no that he was under the influence of ardent spirits The woood Catholic, resolved to make the most of the occasion for the benefit of the nunnery She therefore said to hi up that child; why don't you give her to Priest Dow?”--”Will he take her?” asked my father ”Yes,” she replied, ”he will put her into the nunnery, and the nuns will take better care of her than you can” ”On what condition will they take her?” he asked ”Give the priest one hundred dollars,” replied the artful wo as she lives”
This seemed a very plausible story; but I a Had he waited for a little reflection, he would never have consented to such an arrangement, and my fate would have been quite different But as it was, he iave me to hie I was then to be allowed to go out into the world if I chose To this, Priest Dow consented, in consideration of one hundred dollars, which he received, together with a good bed and bedding My s were also entrusted to his care, until I should be old enough to wear theh I was at that time but six years old, I remember perfectly, all that passed upon thatof as said, but I understood enough to fill ain was co, with a shty, sometimes, are you not?” Surprised and alarmed, I replied, ”No, sir” He then took hold of my hair, which was rather short, drew it back froht the tears to ain asked if I was not sohtened at this, I turned to my father, and with tears and sobs entreated him not to send me aith that man, but allow me to stay at home with hiht to quiet ood and pleasant home; that the nuns would take better care of me than he could; and that he would often come to see arplums on the other, they persuaded me at last to accompany the priest to the White Nunnery, St Paul's street, Quebec
I was too young to realize the sad change in my situation, or to anticipate the trials and privations that awaited rieved thus to leave randfather a heretic, whoard with the utmost abhorrence Little, however, did I think that this was a last farewell But such it was Though he had proain; never even heard from him; and now, I do not knohether he is dead or alive
CHAPTER II
THE WHITE NUNNERY
On my arrival at the nunnery, I was placed under the care of a lady whom they called a Superior She took me into a room alone, and toldto hear confession, and I must confess to him all my sins ”What are sins?” I asked, and, ”How shall I confess? I don't knohat it reat astonishnorant! Where have you lived all your days?”
With all the simplicity of childhood, I replied, ”With randfather; but they didn't tell me how to confess” ”Well,” said she, ”you hts, words, and actions” ”What is wicked?” I innocently asked
”If you have ever told an untruth;” she replied, ”or taken what did not belong to you, or been in any way naughty, disobedient, or unkind; if you have been angry, or quarrelled with your playmates, that icked, and you must tell the priest all about it If you try to conceal, or keep back anything, the priest will know it and punish you You cannot deceive him if you try, for he knows all you do, or say, or even think; and if you atteet yourself into trouble But if you are resolved to be a good girl, kind, gentle, frank, sincere, and obedient, the priest will love you, and be kind to you”
When I was conducted to my room, at bedtime, I rejoiced to find in it several little cot beds, occupied by little girls about ned to the tender ht if we looination seeree dispel our loneliness and ate our sorrows, by companionshi+p and sympathy But I was soon made to know that even this small comfort would not be allowed us, for the Superior, as she assisted roan, or turn upon my side, or move in any way; for if I made the least noise or disturbance, I would be severely punished She assured me that if we disobeyed in the least particular, she would know it, even if she was not present, and deal with us accordingly She said that when the clock struck twelve, the bell would ring for prayers; that we must then rise, and kneel with our heads bowed upon the bed, and repeat the prayer she taught us When, at length, she left us, locking the door after her, I was so frightened, I did not dare to sleep, lest I should move, or fail to awake at the proper tiht, while I lay, waiting the ringing of the bell, or thinking upon the past with deep regret The most fearful visions haunted my brain, and fears of future punishment filled my mind How could I hope to escape it, when they were so very strict, and able to read iven could I have been again restored to ht not of this; I only knew that he was always kind to me, that he never refused what I asked of him I sometimes think, even now, that if he had not so cruelly thrust ht have been able to win him from his cups and evil course of life But this was not to be Having given hi that he should have given away his only child; that he should have placed her in the hands of those who proved utterly unworthy of the trust But however indignant Ihe coainst me, still I do not believe he would ever have done it but for the influence of ardent spirits Moreover, I do not suppose that he had the least idea what kind of a place it was He wished, doubtless, that his child ht be shi+elded from the many trials and te and inexperienced, in the midst of a cold and heartless world
Froht, would be a secure retreat, for there science, religion, and philanthropy, PROFESSEDLY, go hand in hand
Like ht that ”Holiness to the Lord”