LIFE IN AN ENGLISH CONVENT.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue VIII, 25 August 1894, Page 184

LIFE IN AN ENGLISH CONVENT.

BEFORE THE GRILLE.

N tbe most picturesque part of one of our most tX/A i picturesque counties stands a straggling -, many gabled house. It is surrounded by X*'' trees . but not buried by there ; for a spacious X'Ml lawn spreads out before the centre of the >tes tS-o building, while a rich piece of pasture land on one side slopes gently down to the river-side. The Gothic erection at one corner, with its lancet windows and arched transept, bespeaks a place of worship ; while the great square turret from which the bell rings the Angelas, and the hours of Vesper, Prime, etc., proclaims to all around that under its shelter are clustered a community of women, like to ourselves in all but this—that they have thought it incumbent on them to renounce what we strive to attain, and to turn their backs deliberately upon that which we, their fellow-creatures, spend all our lives in running after. For lam speaking of a Catholic convent ! Circumstances so fell out that I was invited to pass a week in the Guest house attached to the Abbey of the oldest —but not the strictest—of English founded orders, where they pride themselves on keeping the same rules as were kept by the first community in the eaily part of the fifth century, and where they lead the same life—with but few modifications—as was led by those cloistered maidens of Saxon days. It was a sudden plnnge from the whirl and turmoil of London dissipation to be shut in behind bars and chains, to spend hours in a stillness so intense that it was broken but by one’s own footfall, the solitude disturbed but by one’s own shadow ; to be

WAITED ON BY A SOFT-VOICED, SWEET FACED SISTER, robed in the quaint garb of her order ; to be surrounded on all sides by mementoes of the end of humanity—death ; and to live in an atmosphere unearhily in its cold calm peace Of course, visitors are free to go in and out, at prescribed times ; but it is considered an act of courtesy in accepting the hospitality of the Lady Abbess to conform, as much as an outsider can, to the rules of the house.

THE ORDER OF THE DAY IS AS FOLLOWS: — Breakfast to a visitor at 8 30, served in a large square room. The meal consists of tea, eggs laid by the Abbey hens, home-made bread, butter from Abbey cows, and occasionally bacon from what were once Abbey pigs, evidently very well fed and perfectly cured. Mass at 9, which the visitor was expected to attend ; then she was her own mistress till 11.30, at which extraordinary hour dinner was served—the meat all being home fed (for the Abbess is a farmer on a large scale), the vegetables also being Abbey produce, and the beer a nun-like confection which savoured somewhat of mediaeval times. Afternoon was the time for seeing the sisters. This ceremony took place IN THE GRILLE ROOM, an enormous apartment, well lighted and well warmed. Across the whole length ran the grille, an open-work lattice palisading of thin iron, the apertures of which were large enough to shake hands through, and even to exchange a kiss, though this latter under difficulties. In tbe centre of this grille is a table, half under your side and half under theirs. You are supposed to sit at one end of the table, the sister the other, so that you can truly say the length of a table separates you. You can see tbe sister enter tbe room and sweep along in her graceful black habit with its becoming white wimple. They practise modesty to such an extent that they are not supposed to keep even their hands uncovered, unless you are a relation and see them frequently, when industry supersedes modesty, and the white fingers are busy over some delicate embroidery for the altar or some part of the trousseau for a new novice. Then you see the silver ring on the nun’s wedding finger, tbe symbol at once of her dependence and her pride. IN CONVERSATION THEY ARE NATURAL AND MERRY. They live to a tremendous age, but the most venerable among them is a child in her enjoyment of a joke. Their faces are sleek with placidity, their voices ripple with content ; whatever their struggles have been, whatever their passions were, self conquest has been their aim, and that aim they have achieved. No care for the future troubles them ; prayer and work and song, and song and work and prayer, employ their minds from morn till night, day after day, week after week, year after year. They are one of the few orders left that take their vows for life, and having taken them they seem to accept the inevitable and make the best of it. Hut EVEN NUNS HAVE THEIR LITTLE PRIDES AND THEIR LITTLE PREJUDICES, This is essentially a patrician order, where from time immemorial sisters of peers and daughters of lordshave bidden themselves from the allurements of this wicked world, and the shadow of their rank haunts their veiy prayers, and is traceable in the sweet quaint horror of the nuns that I—a lady—could do anything so vulgar as ride in a penny ’bus or so demean myself as to travel third class alone ! Yet, are we not all tired of so much l’p to Dateness ’ Does it not come as a refreshing waft from gardens of rosemary and lavender, this old world warning that *a modest maiden should earn her living with her eyes cast down ;’ and that ‘a respectful silence in company marks the gentlewoman from the coquette.’ Their veiy names breathe of stateliness and decorum: Dame (for they are all dames, except the very yonng)—Dame Placid, Dame Ermyntrude, Dame Hildegarde, Dame Bede ; and their very manners recall the etiquette of a royal Court, so dignified and precise are they in their bearing one towards another, till in comparison modern manners seem abrupt and gauche, in the extreme. But I wander from my subject. AT 4.30 A KIND OF TEA SUPPER IS GIVEN,

plentiful and luscious as are all the meals. Sometimes home-made wine—ginger or currant, as the case may be—is added ; but I must own that I preferred the homely brown jug of country milk. At 7.30 the gates are closed, and you are requested to retire to your room, where at dusk a lamp is brought. As I was there in tbe summer, I thought this rnle a hard one, and sent a request to tbe Lady Abbess for a latch-key. But my lawlessness was promptly quenched, though, as a compensation, I was allowed one night to attend Vespers in the convent chapel, sung by tbe sisters in their stalls. The effect is weird. In the soft daiknessof a summer’s

eve, with tbe breath of hay and meadowsweet lading the air, one hears tbe rich clear voices of unseen nuns rise in simple chant and hnsbed monotone, then swell in chorus, as voice blends with voice in one rapt hymn of praise, and gently die away to be lost in tbe dim aisles around. Then silence, solemn and profound, broken after a while by the subdued rustle of their robes, and you catch sight of their shadows as they genuflect, ere they glide into the unseen darkness of their lonely cells ; and you are left in a mystic gloom, relieved only by the tiny altar star, which sheds its red glow on the jewelled tabernacle doors. BEHIND THE GRILLE. The doors are shut ; the ceremony of reception is over ; the hair is cut ; the veil is donned ; the vows are taken I Al) the farewells to the world have been said : all the tears have been shed ; the exhilaration of mind which has sustained the devotee up to now has departed ; and there is NOTHING LEFT BUT THE COLD MONOTONY OF DUTY, to day, every day, and until she lies down to die. Let us see what these duties are, which have to replace domestic ties and worldly pleasures. First, rising every

day, summer and winter, at 4.30, to go to an unwarmed church to chant Office. However, in cold weather the Lady Abbess herself goes round to see that each sister wears a warm shawl ana puts on warm slippers After Office they retire to their cells, where each nun makes her bed and dusts her room. The sheets are of white serge, thick for winter, thin for summer ; the night garment is of the same materia), and also differs in texture according to the

season. As I said before, this is an a'istocratic order, and they have lay sisters for all menial work. At 730 they assemble for breakfast, which is taken standing. Twenty minutes is allowed for this meal, v hich consists of tea or coffee and bread and butter ; there is no reserve as to quantity, except on fast days, when it is also limited to dry bread.

AFTER BREAKFAST,

prayers, and work till nine, when they attend mass; when that is over, there are different duties for different days, no one is allowed to be more than half an hour at one occupation, and each duty is taken by everyone in turn. A good deal of time is spent in gardening, and a good deal with the Dame herbalist. They make their own medicines, from recipes handed down for generations, and, to judge from their complexions, there is a fortune to be made if anyone could cajole tbe Lady Practitioner in Chief to tell some of the secrets. Then there is tbe beer to be made, the wine to be made, tbe jam to be made ; in the summer time they toss the hay and pick the fruit, and take their sewing into the grounds. Tbe altar has also to be decorated, and the church kept sweet with flowers and ferns and mosses. Nor is their education entirely neglected ; their knowledge of

Latin has to be perfected, for all the Office is said in that tongue, and singing is brought to a high pitch of excellence. There is a piano in the recreation room, and impromptu concerts are of constant occurrence. DINNER IS AT 11.30 —IT MAY TAKE AN HOUR; a pious book is read alond for the first half, and conversation is indulged in during the second. Meat is permitted

only on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays ; but delicious soups and tasty puddings are proved to be both nourishing and sustaining. Tea is at 4.30, and anyone may have a piece of bread tor supper by asking for it. Recreation comes three times a day, and all are expected to throw the same energy into their play as into their work ; each must contribute to the amusement of all ; new riddles are a godsend, and the young novices who bring in fresh games are like a rainbow athwart their horizon. THE STRICTEST SILENCE IS ENFORCED FROM 7 P. M. At 9 they retire to their cells; at 9.30 the Sub-Prioress goes round to see that all lights are out, and stillness, solemn and profound, falls on all within the cloisters. They say a peaceful conscience bespeaks sleep ; it certainly does bright eyes, for I never saw a careworn or haggard look among them. The sisters may only write one letter a month, but they receive all that are written to them, opened, of course, and read by the Lady Abbess ; but as they know this rule before they enter, they do not seem to mind the supervision. It is unnecessary to say that men, even their brothers they may never see, except in the presence of a third person; the priest only goes behind the grille to attend the dying ; he hears their weekly confessions separated by a strong zinc partition, and when in church they are railed off from the sight of the villagers, who are allowed to attend service on Sundays and feast days.

THE MONOTONY OF LIFE IS DIVERSIFIED BY FEAST DAYS ;

they are celebrated by a relaxing of rules all round —half an hour later in rising, prolonged recreation, cakes for tea, and on Lady Abbess’s feast day, a concert of original songs, posies presented to her with set speeches, often ending, as a special favour, with a glass of home-made wine for supper, and staying up till the dissipated hour of ten ! Then each nun keeps the anniversary of her taking the vows, and all her sisters in religion cluster round her, and present her with a pious picture as a memento. Unless fresh pictures are given by outside friends they have to do duty over and over again ; and I have seen one which has gone the whole round of the community, till it has come back to its original donor.