A Night at the Hospice of St. Bernard

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIV, Issue 6, 8 February 1906, Page 4

A Night at the Hospice of St. Bernard

On we climbed (writes the? late Frances E. Wiliard in ' Glimpses of Fifty Years Ago '), while Mr. Smith impelled our flagging footsteps by an explosive recitation of Longfellow's ' Excelsior,' the scene of which is here. Around a sharp, rocky bend, up an ascent as steep as 5 'a house roof, past an overhanging precipice, I went, leaving the gentleman behind me in the enihusiasni of the approach, and then the gray, solemn, friendly walls of the great Hospice, which had seemed to me as dim and distant as the moon's caverns, rose before me outlined upon the placid evening sky. I stopped and listened eagerly as I approached its open door— no sound but the gurgle of a distant brook; no living object but two great St. Bernard dogs seated upon the broad, dark steps of stone. A Gentleman may be defined as a being always wisely and benignantly equal to the occasion. Such a character appeared upon the scene in the person of ' Reverend Besse,' the ' Hospitable Father ' and chief of the establishment. Our party in committee of the whole (and no 'minority report ') voted him the most delightful man we ever saw. All that is French in manner, united to all that is English in sturdiness of character, all that is winning in Italian tones, united to a German's ideality, a Yankee's keenness of perception, a Scotchman's heartiness, and an Irishman's wit, these qualities seemed blended in omr ' nonesuch ' of a host, and fused into harmony by the fire of a brother's love toward man and a saint's fidelity to God. Young, fair, blue-eyed, he stood among our chattering group like one who, from a region of perpetual calm, dispenses radiant smiles and overflowing bounty. So Quick was His Discernment, and so sagacious was his decision, that almost without a question he assigned us, in detachments correctly arranged, to fitting domiciles, made each one feel that he or she had been especially expected and prepared for, and within five minutes had so won his way into the innermost recess of e\erybody's heart; that Mr. Jones expressed in his own idiomatic way the sense of fifty guests when he declared : 'To such a man as that even the Little Corporal might well have dofled his old chapeau.' Who shall do justice to the dinner ai that reshaped table, where the Father sat tat the head and said grace, beaming upon his great cosmopolitan family with that young face, so honest, gentle, and brave 7 Then came the long evening around the huge and glowing hearth-fire. How soon we felt ' acquaint ' ; how fast we talked in French or German, minding little how the moods and tenses went askew so that we got and gave ideas. The Father turned from side to side answering with solicitous attention every question that we asked, so that a mosaic of his chief replies would read something^ like this : ' Mademoiselle asks the indications of the thermometer this August evening ? I learn the mercury stands already at 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and the boundary-line of Italy is but five minutes distant. Here, Brother Jean, please provide the beds of all our guests with warming-pans. 1 ' Yes, lady, our Hospice was founded nine hundred years ago by Count Bernard of Savoy, who devoted 40 years of his life to entertaining and protecting, as we still try to do, the many travellers who annually pass through these mountains between Switzerland and Italy. About 20,000 were cared for each year in olden times, without the smallest charge being mado to rich or poor. Now we have not so many, the facilities for travel having so greatly improved. But a great number come over the pass who are out looking for work, and there are also many beggars. These we limit to three days' entertainment. We would gladly keep them longer, but cannot. Our dogs are a cross between Newfoundland and Pyrenean. In Winter. travellers are obliged to wait at a place of refuge we have provided ad soma distance from these buildings, which is on the very top of the pass, until we send out a man and dog, with refreshments fastened to the neck of the dog, who never once loses his way, though the distance is long. The snow is often 30 feet deep, and the only guide the man has is the banner-like tail of the dog waving through the storm. ' The monks always go out in the most dangerous weather. I lead them at such times. They arc not obliged to go — we make it perfectly voluntary.' Her© Kate broke in with an important question t ' How do you your time in summer ? ' • Oh,

mademoiselle, we study and teach— we had 50 students last season. 1 ' What do you teach ? ' ' All that a priest ought to know — theology, philosophy, the laws of the Church. We know contemporaneous events, except politics (!) which we do not read.' ' What is your age ? ' here chimed in the practical Jones. ' Monsieur, lam thirty-one.' (' But he does not look a day older than twenty-three, 1 whispered practical Sophie, and we all nodded our 'energetic acquiescence in her figures.) ' How long have you been here ? ' ' Eleven years, and I remain in perfect health. My predecessors in the office could not endure this high altitude— -three of them left in a period of four years.' ' Why aie you here ? ' persisted Jones. The scene was worthy of a painter — that shrewd Yankee, whose very figure was a walking interrogation point, and that graceful, urbane monk, in his long cassock, as leaning in his easy chair and looking forward and a little upward, he answered with a slow melodious emphasis, ' Brother, it is my calling, that is all.' So simple was his nature, that to have heard ' a call ' from God and not obeyed it .would have seemed to him only less monstrous than not to have heard 'any /call at all ! At early dawn we were awakened by men's voices in a solemn chant, led by the Hospitable Father— and never did religion seem more sacred and attractive than while we listened as through the chapel door came the words of the 'Te Deum,' consecrated by centuries of Christian song.