A HOME OF THE SILENT BROTHERHOOD.

Otago Witness, Issue 1928, 2 November 1888, Page 32

A HOME OF THE SILENT BROTHERHOOD.

Under this title the " Century " contains an interesting account of the Abbey of La Trappe, in Kentucky. The monastery, which is called the Abbey of Gethsemane, was founded 40 years ago by a delegation from the Abbey La Meiileraye, of the Department of the Loire-Inferieure, France. The domain of the abbey comprises some 1700 acres of land, part of which is tillable, while the rest consists of a range of wooded knobs that furnish timber to the monastery steam saw mill. Around this domain lie the homesteads of Kentucky farmers. Architecturally there is little to please the aesthetic sense in the monastery building. It is a great quadrangular pile of brick, three storeys high, heated by furnaces and lighted by gas. IDLENESS THE ENEMY OF THE SOUL. Idleness, to the Trappist is the enemy of j the soul, and one of his vows i 3 manual labour. Whatever a monk's previous station may have been, he must perform, according to abbatial direction, the most menial services. None are exempt from work ; there is no place among them for the sluggard. When it is borne in mind that the abbey is a self-dependent institution, where the wealthy must be maintained, the sick cared for, the dead buried, the necessity for much work becomes manifest. In fact, the occupations are about as various as those of a modern factory. There is scope for intellects of all degrees and talents of well-nigh every order. Daily life, unremittingly from year to year, is an exact system of duties and hours. The community do not till the farm. The greater part of their land is occupied by tenant farmers, and what they reserve for their own use is cultivated by the so-called " family brothers,", who, it is due to say, have no families, but live as celibates on the abbey domain, subject to the abbot's authority, without being members of the order. THE MONKS AT WORK. The monks, however, do labour in the ample gardens, orchards, and vineyard, from which they derive their sustenance, in the steam saw mill and grain mill, in the dairy and the cheese factory. Thus picturesquely engaged one may find them in autumn — monks gathering apples and making barrel after barrel of pungent cider, which is stowed away in the vast cellar as their only beverage except water ; monks repairing the shingle roof of a stable ; monks feeding the huge swine which they fatten for the board of their carnal guests, or the fluttering multitude of chickens from the eggs and young of which they derive a slender revenue ; monks grouped in the garden around a green and purple heap of turnips, to be stored up as a winter relish of no mean distinction. Amidst such scenes one forgets all else while enjoying the wealth and freshness of artistic effects. What a picture is this young Belgian cheese-maker, his sleeves rolled up above the elbows of his' brawny arms, his great pinkish hands buried in the golden curds, the cap of his serge cloak falling back and showing his closely clipped golden brown hair, blue eyes, and clear delicate skin I Or this Australian ex-farmer, as ho stands by the hopper of grist or lays on his shoulder a bag of flour for the course brown bread of the monks. Or this dark old French opera-singer, who strutted his brief hour on many a European stage, but now hobbles around all hoary in his cowl and blanched with age, to pick up a handful of garlic. Or this athletic, superbly formed young Irishman, thrusting a great iron prod into the glowing coals of the saw mill furnace, Or this slender Switzer, your attendant in the refectory, with great keys dangling from his leathern cincture, who stands by with fplded hands and bo^yed head while you are eating the pagan meal he has prepared, and prays that you be forgiven for en-: oying it. From va'ious countries of the Old World men find their way into the Abbey iof Gethsemane, but among them arc no Americans. THE VOW OF LIFE-LONG SILENCE. The vow of life-long silencs taken by the Trappist must of course not be construed literally; but after all there are only two occasions during which it is completing set aside —when confessing his sins and when singing the offices of the church. At all other times his tongue becomes, as far as possible, a superfluous member; he speaks only by permission of his superior, and always simply and to the point. The monk at work with another exchanges with him only a few low necessary words, and those that provoke no laughter. Of the three socalled monastic graces, Simplic tas, Benigr nitas, and Hilaritas, the last is not his. Even for necessary speech he is taught to substitute a language of signs as fully systematised as the speech of the deaf and dumb. Only the abbot is free to speak when and as his judgment may approve. It is silence that enables the soul to contemplate with singleness and mortification the infinite perfection of the Eternal. In the abbey it is the allpervasive hush that falls like a leaden pall upon the stranger who has rushed in from the talking universe and this country of free speech. The utmost precaution is taken to avoid noise ; in the dormitory not even your guide will speak to you, but explains by gesture and ?igns. Daring the short siesta the Trappists allow themselves, if one of them, not wishing to sleep, gets permission to read in his so-called cell, he must turr the pages of his book inaudibly. In the refectory, while the meal is eaten and the appointed reader in the tribune goes through a service if one through carelessness makes a noise by go much as dropping a fork or a spoon, he leaves bis spat and prostrates himself on the floor until bidden by the superior to arise. The same penace is undergone in the church

I by anyone who should distract attention with the clasp of his book. DRESS AND FOOD OF THE MONKS. Their dress consists, if he.be a brother, of the roughest dark- brown serge-like stuff, the o ver-garment of which is a long robe,if af ather, of a similar material, but white in colour the over-garmect being the cowl, beneath which is the black scapular. He changes U only once in two weeks. The frequent us e of the bath, as tending to luxuriousness, ig forbidden him, especially if he be young, His diet is vegetables, fruit, honey, cider] cheese, and brown bread. Only when sick or infirm may he take even fish or eggs. His table-service is pewtery plain earthenware, a heavy wooden spoon and fork of his own making, and the bottom of a broken bottle for a salt-cellar. " THE WOELD FORGETTING, BY THE WORLD FORGOT." The Trappist does not walk beyond the enclosures 'except by permission. He must repress all those ineffably tender yearnings ! that visit and vex the human heart in this 1 life. The death of the nearest kindred ia not announced to him. Forgotten by the world, by him it is forgotten. Yet not wholly. When he lays the lashes of the scourge on his flesh — it may be on his carious bones— he does it not for his own sins alone, but for the sins of the whole world ; and in his searching self-imposed humilia tions there is a silent broad outreaching of sympathetic effort in behalf of all his kinfl. Soitow may not depict itself freely on his face. If a suffering invalid, he must manifest no interest in the progress of his malady, feel no concern regarding the result. In his last hour, he sees ashes strewn upon the floor in the form of a cross, a thin scattering of straw made over them, and his body extended thereon to die ; and from Ihis hard bed of death he knows it will be borne on a bier by his brethren aud laid in the grave without coffin or shroud.