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CONVENT EXPERIENCES.
Miss A. F. B.
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT,
11 THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD,
LONDON, S.E.
1875.
Price Ninepence,.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. IV. REYNELL, LITTLE PDLTENEY STREET,
HAYMARKET.
�INTRODUCTION.
ANY have written upon the Convent Question.
Fanatical No-Popery champions, who have
never seen the interior of a Convent, have had the
effrontery to expatiate with all the assurance of eye
witnesses upon manners and customs most of which
would have been unintelligible to them even had they
been permitted to scrutinise them. Blinded by Pro <
testant prejudice, their faith concerning Convents is
literally “the evidence of things not seen.” Such
witnesses have written to little purpose.
Others, supposed to be runaway Nuns, who at once
went over to the enemy and became bright stars in
the Evangelical firmament, have also handled the
Convent Question. They have made “awful dis
closures,” quite worthy of a place in the annals of
secular crime; but their statements want filling in,
for neither in the world nor in the Convent are
“ awful crimes ” the order of the day, and those sup
posed runaway Nuns should tell us what went on
between whiles, that we might the better understand
the causes which led to such “ awful” results.
B
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Introduction.
To supply what is wanting, to tell the whole truth,
is the object of the following pamphlet. It is written
by one who, though she left the Convent and the
Roman Church, can nevertheless look back with
pleasure upon Convent days and Convent friends,
and who, strange to say, has not hitherto seen any
Anglican minister reproducing so faithfully the Jesus
of the Gospels as do many of the much-despised
Roman Catholic priests she formerly knew and whom,
she still holds in affectionate remembrance.
�CONVENT EXPERIENCES.
OME years ago I had a strong desire to enter a
Convent. I expressed my wish to my confessor
—an uncommonly clever old man—but he at once
opposed it. The secular clergy are by no means
favourable to Convents, and would far rather their
penitents remained in “the world,” where their good
works might shine before men and have a far wider
influence.
My Confessor’s opposition was of no avail, and
some time after we discussed the subject once more.
He made a sensible suggestion, upon which I acted.
He advised me to pass a few days in a suburban Con
vent, just to see what sort of an impression the mode
of life would make upon me, and he promised to write
to the Superior urging her to withhold nothing from
me, but to tell me with all frankness what was
required by the Rules of the Order.
I followed this advice, and went for a short time
into a Convent of some note. The result was most
unsatisfactory. Everything was far too comfortable,
too elegant, and too well-appointed for one passing
through such an ascetic phase as myself; moreover,
I was at a loss to understand by what mental process
the feather beds, merino habit, and inviting food
could be made to square with Holy Poverty. In
vain was I told by the Novice-mistress that not a Nun
in the community dare call a pin her own, that the
pronoun “my” was abolished and “our” substituted,
and that Holy Poverty was rigidly observed.
1 was too obtuse to understand her view of the
matter. I was full of fervour, I wanted to feel the
S
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Convent Experiences.
poverty I professed, and it seemed to me that, as
long as I had undisturbed enjoyment of other people’s
property, I should experience nothing of the sort,
whichever pronoun I might use, so that with my
views a vow of poverty taken in such an attractive
residence would have been a mockery. I took my
leave, but have since heard from one who for some
years was in a Convent of that Order that the “ in
teriormortification” to which the Nuns were subjected
was excessive; their affections were systematically
crushed, starved, and finally extinguished, until the
joyous, warm-hearted Novice subsided into a mere
automaton, afraid and ashamed of enjoying anything !
I communicated all my impressions about that
convent to my old Confessor, fully anticipating a
reprimand for venturing thus to censure my betters.
To my surprise, he seemed rather glad I had been dis
appointed ; said he had formed similar opinions him
self, and once more suggested that I should abandon
all idea of entering a Convent. But I had made up
my mind to be a Nun, and into a Convent I was
determined to go, in spite of my first failure. Some
months later, I joined an Order in which my expec
tations seemed likely to be realised, and where Holy
Poverty, with a few startling and amusing exceptions,
was keenly felt and daily practised by a fervent
community of about a hundred souls, all aiming at
serving their God perfectly by imitating as closely as
possible the Jesus of the Gospels and the Saints of
the Church, and by endeavouring with all their might
and main to execute everything, no matter how
trifling, “ after the pattern which was shewed them
on the Mount.”
They were aiming at serving their God—mark the
words—their God, that is, the Convent-God, whose
requirements we must of necessity consider ere we
coarsely censure those who fulfil them. This neces
sity has not been felt by those who have handled the
�Convent Experiences.
g
Convent Question; instead of laying the axe to the
root of the tree, they have contented themselves
with attacking the fruit, which they have failed to
destroy, for the Monk and the Nun “ have triumphed
gloriously,” and most of the monastic Orders are
flourishing in the British Isles, where they will con
tinue to prosper until the cause—the dread cause of
effects so direful—shall cease to exist. The wolf
must be slain—not the poor sheep he has molested ;
the dog must be shot—not the poor baby he has
bitten ■ the poisoner must be locked up, not the poor
victims he has infected. Those so anxious for the
destruction of Convents and Monasteries of course
imagine that the monastic spirit would be annihilated
by their fall; but they are unaware that the ConventGod is extensively worshipped outside the Convent
walls, and with similar results. Vows are taken and
religiously observed in “ the world,” while, to my
certain knowledge, bodily penances in the shape of
disciplines, hair-shirts, prickly armlets, &c., which in
many severe Orders, including even La Trappe, are
absolutely forbidden, are practised by many educated
Catholics in the quiet home circle—and mark—not at
the instigation of an ascetic director, but often in
opposition to his wishes, and of their own free will.
Confessors and Superiors of Convents are, taken
collectively, grossly calumniated.
Inmates of Convents, and frequenters of confes
sionals are prompted from within, not goaded from
without, to offer up their bodies “ a living sacrifice”
on the altar of their God, whose requirements we
shall easily ascertain by inquiring what it is which
urges so many intelligent, high-minded, enthusiastic
persons of both sexes to embrace the religious life—
for those who imagine that none but abject, half
witted, ill-favoured plebeians, people the cloister, are
vastly mistaken.
Most of those who enter Convents voluntarily—
�io
Convent Experiences.
neither driven thither by adverse circumstances nor
unduly influenced by some exciting revival which
Catholics call a “ Mission,” are animated by motives
which will bear the closest scrutiny.
They have a firm conviction that they are doing
exactly what God requires of them, and not one whit
more. If, indeed, they are mistaken, then it is truly
lamentable that so much generous self-sacrifice and
genuine purity of intention should be misapplied ; and
that youth, beauty, physical strength, mental ability
and innocent enjoyment should be daily sacrificed to
appease a well-nigh implacable Deity who has rarely
been intentionally offended by one of His victims,'
and who, by some unaccountable inconsistency, is
called the God of Love, seems not only horrible but
incredible. The Aztecs would have called Him
Tezcatlepoca, in whose honour a fine young man was
yearly sacrificed, by having his palpitating heart torn
from his heaving breast—but the Convent-God is
more exacting, for Tezcatlepoca’s victims did no
prior penance—on the contrary, they passed the pre
vious year in the enjoyment of everything this world
affords, and their end, though cruel, was instanta
neous, soothed moreover by the certainty of eternal
bliss in Paradise—but Convent victims pass the
whole “ time of their sojourning here in fear,” striv
ing to make their “ calling and election sure,” by
working out their salvation “ in fear and trembling,”
knowing that, “ unless their righteousness exceed the
righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees they shall
in nowise enter into the kingdom of Heaven.” They
die as St. Paul died—“daily.” They believe as he
believed, that “ God is a consuming fire.”
They bring their bodies “into subjection” as he
did.
They “ count all things but dung,” just as he did.
They doubt whether, after all, they shall not be
“ castaways,” just as he did.
�Convent Experiences.
11
They are “ counted fools and the off-scouring of
all things ’’just as he was, and they realise with all
the intensity of an over-wrought nervous system
how fearful a thing it is “ to fall into the hands of
the living God.” They may be great fools for their
pains, but what about St. Paul ? He preached
poverty, chastity, and obedience. He beat his body,
fasted, gloried in suffering, despised the wrorld, had
visions, took a vow, and is universally looked up to
as the fairest flower of the new faith; but let any
body “ go and do likewise,” especially in an edifice
called a Monastery, and he will be universally looked
upon as an absurd fanatic or a hypocritical fool.
Call the Convent-God a ghastly myth, the morbid
creation of a disordered imagination if you will, but
what about the Pauline-God ? Did St. Paul worship
the reformed God of modern Christianity ? did he
know aught of the easy-going, virginity-despising,
match-making God of the period ? or had he formed
an erroneous conception of the God and Father of
our Lord Jesus Christ? The great apostle himself
thought he had “ the Spirit of God,” and therefore
he spoke out boldly, and besought the Corinthians to
be “imitators of him as he was of Christ;” taught
the Galatians that those that were of Christ had
“ crucified the world with its affections and covetous
ness
cautioned the Philippians against “ minding
earthly things ; ” and told Timothy to be satisfied
with the mere necessaries of life, “food and raiment.”
Now suppose that valiant soldier of the cross were
to visit Christendom in order to claim his own, his
imitators, where in “the world” would he find them?
He might, indeed, hear his words in many a mouth
and see his epistles on many a book-shelf, but he
never said “read my epistles;” the burden of his
song was, “ mortify your members which are on the
earth.” Where are his followers, those who, like
himself, bear in their bodies “ the marks of the Lord
�12
Convent Experiences.
Jesus,” and in their daily acts of mortification and
self-denial fill up, as he tried to do, “that which is
behind of the afflictions of Christ.” I could intro
duce him to many (fanatical fools ?) whose motives
are as pure as his own, whose faith, hope, and
charity would bear a favourable comparison with his'
own, and whose every action would stand the test of
his closest cross-examination; people who, like him
self, are not “conformed to this world,” but have
died to it long ago just as he did. St. Paul’s
followers are by no means so numerous as St.
Paul s readers—he is read by the wise men but
imitated by the fools. Fools are generally in the
majority, but the fools of the New Testament are
few and far between, and they are generally to be
found living in buildings where, like the early Chris
tians, they can have all things “in common.” To
some such edifice I should conduct St. Paul, and I
should explain to him that a new God-—-a reformed
God is worshipped nowadays—a God who cares far
more about Bible reading than Bible practice, and
being better adapted to the requirements of the age,
naturally carries all before him; that his old God is
quite out of date, only worshipped by fanatical men
and hysterical women, who are very little interested
in Bible reading, but very much interested in Bible
practices, and who have retired into private life in or
out of a Monastery, as the case may be; not at all
because they are sullen, cross-grained creatures with
out natural affection, but simply because their God is
so fearfully “jealous ” and exacting, that nothing
short of absolute self-sacrifice will satisfy him; more
over, that they have an odd, unpopular notion that
“the friendship of the world is enmity with God,”
and as it would never do to quarrel with him, they
find it expedient to avoid it altogether.
However, perhaps St. Paul’s views may have under
gone a change, perhaps he has a new God now, in
�Convent Experiences.
'
iq
which case he might be quite at home in modern
society, and be warmly welcomed in Rotten Row ; but
should he still adore the God for whom he so lovingly
laid down his life in days gone by, in what corner of
Christendom would he find a genial resting-place ?
It has now been made sufficiently clear what the
requirements of the Convent-God are, and what a
very striking resemblance they bear to those of the
Pauline deity. Surely those ought not to be ridiculed
whose works are in accordance with their faith. The
poor benighted Papist, and the coarse, vulgar Metho
dist missionary, really believe that the hero of the
Gospels was God, that he really meant us to follow
his example, and that if we refuse to renounce all
we have we cannot be his disciples.
Adult skeletons and babies’ bones, of which no
satisfactory account can be given, have been, and,
perhaps, will be, found both in and out of Convents;
licentious passions may run riot in the cloister as they
do in the camp, and the religious habit may conceal a
faithless Nun as a ball-dress may a faithless wife. It
is not of Convent vices, but of Convent virtues I wish
to speak—the virtues, not the vices, drove me away !
Besides, Sister Lucy has already laid so many “awful
disclosures ” before the public that it is, fortunately,
unnecessary to add to the number.
Monks and Nuns do not even lay claim to impecca
bility, and the members of the Reformed Church should
set the poor Papists a better example before they dare
to meddle with the mote in their brother’s eye.
A bag of bones certainly proves that a sin has been
committed, but nothing more. When a -member of
the Reformed Church, in the full blaze of Gospel
light, fulfils his vow by beating his wife to a jelly, are
we thence to conclude that matrimony is a snare, and
Protestantism a sham ?
The Reformed Church should set a reformed
example, and show the Bible-^oers how much better
the Bible readers are.
�14
Convent Experiences.
It is quite true that Catholics care very little about
reading the Bible, but it is not at all true that (as far
as this country is concerned) they are forbidden to
read it. A Catholic Bible only costs half-a-crown,
and a Testament tenpence.
One of my confessors insisted upon my reading a
chapter daily, another seemed to know the entire book
by heart—he had a text at hand for every emergency
—always assumed that I was acquainted with it., and
was quite a living Concordance; another (a Monk)
was an ardent admirer of St. Paul’s Epistles, from
which he was constantly quoting. St. Paul would
have loved that good old Monk because, like himself,
he was a doer of the Word. However, it is quite true
that very few Catholics like the Bible much, and still
fewer consider it any part of their duty to read it. I
was quite an exception. I was always fond of the
New Testament. I took it with me into the Convent,
and continue to appreciate much of it, but reading it
would never make me a Protestant.
From my infancy I have associated almost exclu
sively with Protestants, and have had the pleasantest
experience of them. I am still intimate with many,
and excellent companions they are. I find them
straight-forward, kind-hearted, and agreeable people,
far superior intellectually to Catholics, and therefore
much more interesting, but I am bound to say, after
due deliberation, that they are not one whit like
Christ—that, according to all appearances, they do
not even wish to be like him, and that so far from
looking up to, they generally look down upon those
who are like him. I know they do read the Gospels
very often, but should never suppose they had ever
heard of the Sermon on the Mount or of its “meek
■and lowly ” author. Protestants are assuredly the
readers of the Word and the hearers of the Word,
but most certainly not the doers of the Word.
Whether that is matter for regret is another thing—
�Convent Experiences.
15
it is, however, a curious view of Christianity of
which Protestants have got hold—one likely to prove
untenable before long, and one by no means calcu
lated to impress the Catholics favourably. “We go
by the Bible,” said a Protestant to me one day; he
would have been nearer the mark had he said' “We
give the Bible the go-by 1 ”
Protestants cannot bear to be reminded that Christ
extolled the celibate and even the eunuch, whom they
consider so unutterably despicable—they wish he had
said : “ Let every one seek the conjugal state betimes,
for in heaven they both marry and are given in
marriage.” They cannot endure any allusion to the
abject poverty Christ both practised and commended
•—they wish he had said : “ Seek ye first worldly
wealth and its advantages, for what shall it profit a
man to save his soul and lose his money.” Over and
over again have I asked my Protestant friends what
they suppose Christ did mean by those passages in
the Gospels the poor Papists so lamentably misappre
hend, and all 1 can get from them is, “ O you know,
he could not have meant that ”—but what they think
he did mean, I have never ascertained. My own
impression is that they are thoroughly ashamed of
Christ. If I am mistaken, if they really admire him,
then they ought to be thoroughly ashamed of them
selves, for their affected reverence for Christ’s words
is only to be equalled by their supreme contempt for
his meaning.
The fact is, that when the Protestants reformed
their Church and their God they ought to have
reformed the Bible too, instead of which they are
actually making a new translation of the old God’s
book ! Surely it would be far better for the new
God to have a new book, and then much of the
wrangling about “letter and spirit ” would of neces
sity cease ; it is too bad to take the old God’s book,
and by pretending He did not mean what He said,
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Convent Experiences.
make it do for the new one ! The God of the
Gospels and the God of to-day are two totally
different deities, and ought most certainly to have
two totally different books.
And now let us see how the Bible-doers get on far
away from all mundane influence in the quiet shade
of the cloister.
To no part of my life do I look back with more
pleasure and with less regret than to the time I
passed in the Convent,—it was a curious and interest
ing experience. The motives which induced me to
take such a step may be briefly summed up in these
few words—I believed that Christ said what he meant
and meant what he said. I was one of St. Paul’s
“fools for Christ’s sake.”
My second Convent was not a pretty place; it was
a big, ugly, plain, brick building, standing in a
large, unattractive piece of ground which was divided
into three gardens and a cemetery.
The interior arrangements were as inconvenient as
they were uncomfortable, but whether by accident or
design I never heard. I was told that a Nun had
planned the Convent; she may have been (and
very likely was) aiming at discomfort and incon
venience, in which case the result was most satis
factory. I may add just here, that Nuns have a great
objection to help from without; they stain, varnish,
whitewash, &c., make candles, bind books, frame
pictures, &c., themselves—often very nicely.
There was no “dim religious light ” in that Convent.
On the contrary, there was a great glare everywhere
always. The boards were scrubbed fabulously white
and strewn with fine, white, silvery sand; all the
walls were painfully white; the chapel was of very
light-coloured stone, the statues and bas-reliefs were
quite white, and there was hardly any shade in the
garden ; nevertheless the “ shade of the cloister ”
existed, but as we were never allowed to walk in the
�Convent Experiences.
17
cloisters (exercise being generally taken in the snn
just after dinner) the shade there was of no practical
utility. During my whole stay there I felt the
absence of colour very much; my eyes suffered from
the incessant glare, but I have no reason to believe
it affected anybody else. Being far from well on my
arrival, it was considered unadvisable to introduce
me to my future companions immediately, so for some
days I occupied a large private room where I made
the acquaintance of the most important person in
the Convent—the Ko vice-mi stress.
She might have been forty-five. She had a good,
wide brow, handsome eye-brows, and large, expres
sive, dreamy-looking eyes. Her manner was simple
and energetic, and she was without any exception
the most warm-hearted and tenderly-affectioned
creature I have ever known. Her physical strength
was something quite extraordinary; from half-past
four in the morning until half-past nine at night she
rarely sat down. I never heard her say she felt tired,
neither did she ever show the least symptom of
fatigue. She had a hearty appetite and an excellent
digestion, which, of course were in her favour, but
still her bodily strength was remarkable.
My intimacy with the Novice-mistress was, I am
sure, of a very exceptional character ; it contributed
materially to my happiness in the Convent, and was
one of the many causes of my leaving it.
After a while I got better, and was told I was to
make my first appearance in the Novitiate—the
name given to the general sitting-room of the
Novices and Postulants. Postulants are the new
comers, the askers for the religious habit, the
unclothed Novices. They wear the clothes they
brought with them out of “ the world,” which, if at
all smart, contrast strangely and unfavourably with
the clean, natty attire of the rest. Novices are
dressed just like Nuns, barring the veil, which in
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Convent Experiences.
their case is white instead of black. I said just like
Nuns, but there are other trifling differences in the
dress which would never strike the ordinary observer.
The great object of the Postulants is to receive the
religious habit, a ceremony which takes place at “a
clothing,” and is rarely delayed more than three
months. Postulants excluded from any cause from
an approaching “clothing” are generally much
disappointed; they cannot feel that they have begun
their religious life in good earnest until they see
themselves in the religious habit; moreover their
own attire has often become faded and even dirty.
Postulants are allowed plenty of liberty. They
generally arrive very much out of health. Previous
anxiety of mind ; troubles of all sorts ; the disappro
bation of their parents; the hindrances of every kind
which are designedly thrown in their path ; the terri
ble laceration of mind many of them have undergone
and continue to undergo for weeks and months, are
reasons for treating them with all the indulgence and
consideration possible. Postulants are not obliged
to observe silence ; a Novice is generally allowed to
devote herself to all the new-comers, and they may
do pretty much as they like, go out when they like,
come in when they like, and chat during the hours of
silence ; but few Postulants require all these conces
sions, they generally do their best from the first.
There is, however, one. permission of which the
majority avail themselves pretty extensively, and that
is the permission to loolc about them.
Everything and everybody seem so very queer in
the Convent, that were the “mortification of the
eyes ” insisted on from the first., I am afraid very few
would persevere. I was terribly given to staring
about; the novelty of the scene in my case never
seemed to wear off, and though quite up to the others
in many respects, I failed signally in the “ mortifica
tion of the eyes.” Eyes were to be “mortified”
�Convent Experiences.
i
because Christ had his eyes habilually fixed on the
ground; we know this to be a fact; had it been
otherwise the Evangelists would not tell us so fre
quently that “ He lifted up His eyes ”; they must
previously have been cast down in true cloistral
fashion ; it was a clear case. With my eyes for
awhile under my own control, I entered the Novitiate
with the Novice-mistress, at whose appearance the
hubbub of voices ceased and the fifty Novices rose ;
when she was seated they sat down and the noise
recommenced. They were at tea; they were having
brown bread and butter on brown wooden platters,
and were drinking either beer or tea out of brown
mugs. They were all between the ages of sixteen
and five-and-twenty. The greater number were Laysisters, and looked in rude health, as I believe they
were ; the rest were Choir-novices. It is upon these,
the young gentlewomen of the community, that the
oppressive weight of Convent life falls so heavily.
Many of them come straight from the ease, indolence,
and warmth of a luxurious home to the draughty,
carpetless, comfortless Convent, where their powers of
endurance, both mental and physical, are sadly over
taxed, and where the diet, though well adapted to
repair the muscular system, is but ill calculated to
restore the nervous tissue upon which such terrible
demands are made by the mode of life. Moreover,
too many hours are suffered to pass between the
meals, and the result is that the Choir-novices soon
begin to droop ; but I am anticipating. They all
looked very well and very happy, and were making
a great noise when I first saw them. The noise
amazed and scandalised me. I thought, as I believe
most people do, that Nuns rarely open their lips, and
that a Convent is as silent as the grave ; but I soon
found out that even in a Convent there was “ a time
to speak,” and the introduction of a Postulant into
the Novitiate is always the signal for “ speaking.’>
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Convent Experiences.
Convents are unavoidably noisy places, for, as tliere
are neither carpets nor curtains to deaden the sound,
nobody can move about silently, especially in Convent
shoes, which are clumsy and unyielding. Absolute
silence is rarely realised in active Orders, for even
when conversation is prohibited vocal prayer is con
stantly going on, and the wearisome repetition of
countless “ Hail Marys ” during the recital of several
Rosaries running, is knagging beyond belief. The
“ silence ” bell was a mockery. Tea—I should rather
say supper, for it was the last meal—being over, the
Novice-mistress rapped on the table; all stood up,
and the 51st Psalm, some prayers, and a hymn to
Mary were said in Latin—the latter with startling
rapidity. We then went into the garden, where
the younger Novices ran about, played at Puss-intbe-Corner, &c., or collected the innumerable snails
and caterpillars which swarmed over the cabbages.
The other Novices, including recently-professed Nuns
who were still in the Novitiate, walked up and
down with the Novice-mistress, whose duty it is
always to be present during recreation. The even
ing recreation was a sensible and a shady one. It
lasted about three-quarters of an hour, and then
the bell rang for night prayers, which lasted halfan-hour; and at half-past nine we were generally
in our cells. Cells—who in “ the world ” knows
what a Nun’s cell really is ? I thought they were on
or under the ground-floor, cold, damp, and dismal,
and furnished with a crucifix, a skull, and a prie-dieu.
Such a cell as that would have delighted me, for
those who enter a Convent from conscientious motives
are prepared for any amount of discomfort; they go
there on purpose to find it. Christ had no toilet
table, no toilet-vinegar, and no toilet-soap ; and his
followers know they must “ take no thought for the
body,” if they would be worthy members of a head
crowned with thorns.
�21
Convent Experiences.
I am so soyry I cannot tell the reader where my
cell was; it was either in. Nazareth or in Bethlehem,
but I do not know which. I was always a very bad
hand at finding my way about, and that Convent was,
as I said before, of intricate construction and I never
learnt my way about it. Each room and each staircase
had a curious name ; there was the Sacred Heart, the
Eive Wounds, Nazareth, Bethlehem, the Holy Angels,
the Holy Innocents, Mount Zion, Saint Agnes, Saint
Ursula, &c. Other Novices could take messages to
the Sacred Heart and be back directly; but I was
soon found to be an unprofitable servant and was
rarely required to run errands. On the first floor
was a large room without a fire-place, divided by un
painted wooden partitions into perhaps thirty tiny
compartments all open at the top, called “ cells ” and
one of them was mine, or rather ow as they always
say in Convents!
I confess I was much disappointed with it—it was
neither damp nor dismal—it was excessively dry and
painfully light. Disposed as I was to see the
religious element everywhere and to take a devotional
view of everything, I could not help thinking how
very much like a bathing-machine my cell was—had
it been quite straight the resemblance would have
been still more striking. The bed was fixed into the
side like a berth on board ship, a small cupboard was
opposite the door, on which stood a small jug and
basin, pegs were in the partition just like those in a
bathing-machine, and a bathing-machine lookingglass was fastened to the wall. There was one chair
for which there was hardly room, and a wee bit of
carpet in front of the bed. Whenever I go to the
sea-side and take a dip in the ocean, I am always
vividly reminded of my old Convent cell. I was
favoured some time ago with a private view of Hollo
way Gaol, and have no hesitation in saying that the
prisoners’ cells in that interesting building are incomC
�22
Convent Experiences.
parably more comfortable, more roomy, more private,
and more genteel than those occupied by ladies and
gentlemen in Convent-s and Monasteries; moreover,
■prison cells are well warmed and well ventilated, but
■our cells were cold and shamefully ill-ventilated.
Considering the defective ventilation and general
neglect of sanitary laws, it is astonishing that the
health of the community was not much worse. Some
of the dormitories in my Convent were just as badlyveniilated and over-crowded as were many of the
Metropolitan Workhouse Wards a few years ago.
Ignorance of, and contempt for, the body, combined
with an excessive reverence for the precepts of their
God are the causes which in Convents produce such
lamentable results; but as members of the Reformed
Church are neither ignorant nor fanatical, to what
influences are we to impute their shortcomings ?
In every cell there was a crucifix and in most a
crown of thorns—however, in mine there was only a
crucifix. The recollection of that crucifix brings to
my mind a silly taunt often flung at Catholics by
those who ought to know better. On Sunday, after
a late breakfast,—for the God of the day is not
exacting,—Protestants frequently pay Popery the
compliment of going to High Mass at the Pro-Cathe
dral or St. George’s. They hear fine music, they see
prettv flowers, they smell sweet incense, and they go
home saying, “What a sensuous worship it is,” but
it never occurs to them that out of a hundred
Catholics not more than five ever hear High Mass at
all. The High Mass is for the select few, but the
Low Mass is for the multitude. Long before the
Protestant has left his bed, hundreds and thousands
of Catholics have been to a Mass where there is no
music, no incense, and no sermon ; where there are
no flowers, no candles, and no attractions. At seven
and eight o’clock the Protestant may see at the
Italian Church, Hatton Garden, what he will certainly
�Convent Experiences.
23
never see in his own place of worship—the poor at
their devotions—unaided by anything to gratify their
senses, and frequently too far from the altar to catch
the low voice of the solitary priest or to see the two
candles which announce that a Mass is going on.
We never once had High Mass at the Convent,
neither could any of us see the altar from our position
in the choir. But I must return to that crucifix. It
consisted of a cross stained black (paint was for
bidden), on which was pasted a gaudy paper figure
of Christ. It did not elevate my soul to God, it did
not recall His crucified Son to my mind,—it was a
grotesquely ludicrous object, and it always reminded
me of Punch. Once, in an indignant mood, I turned
it with its face to the wall, but the Novice-mistress
turned it back again, telling me that if I could not
put up with an ugly crucifix I was no true child of
the Cross ; but the good soul tried to find me a less
objectionable one,—in vain, they were all alike;
indeed, everything that met the eye was as tasteless
as it could be, for Jesus had been satisfied with the
mere necessaries of life, and the disciple ought not
to be “ above his Master.”
The extinguishing of the lamp, accompanied by
the exclamation, “May Jesus Christ be praised,”
announced that everybody was in bed. At half-past
four a great bell rang, and somebody thumped loudly
at each cell door, saying “ Arise thou that sleepest,
and Christ shall give thee light.” At five, we were
all in the Chapel for morning prayers, followed by
Prime, Tierce, Sext and None of the Divine Office,
commonly called Little Hours. Most of the active
Orders use the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin,
which is usually printed with the English translation,
but we said the long office from the Boman Breviary
—the same which all the priests say all over the
world, and of which not one word was translated.
Reciting it in a slow monotone, took over two hours
�24
Convent Experiences.
daily, and I think I may venture to assert that the
two hours so spent were felt by the majority as a
very heavy penance; but as I shall have to return to
this subject we will leave it now.
The Angelus bell rang at the end of Kone, and
we all returned to our cells to make our beds, &c. ;
but the et cetera was no joke, especially to those Nuns
who slept in the Five Wounds, for they had to carry
the water in which they had washed, as well as their
empty jug (which rarely had a handle or a spout) down
three flights of steep stairs and across a very uneven
yard to the pump where they had to wait their turn
among the others. Sometimes the bell rang for
“ Meditation” before the poor girls got back to the
Five Wounds with the fresh water. However, most
of the Novices slept nearer the pump, and had time
for a few minutes Spiritual Reading before we were
all summoned into the Chapel again. I should like
a medical man to have seen us “ meditating.” It was
then half-past six, and we all (having been standing
since half-past four), knelt until a quarter to eight.
The mental prayer or meditation lasted till seven,
and then came Mass and Holy Communion. Then
we breakfasted upon brown bread, butter, and coffee
without sugar. There was never the remotest dif
ference in the routine of the Convent during the early
morning hours, and before proceeding further, it is
necessary to examine that routine very closely. We
had supped soon after seven upon brown bread and
butter, and the very weakest tea without sugar, and
we had passed the evening on our feet and on our
knees. At half-past four we were on our legs again
—from five to six we were kneeling or standing in
the Chapel (there is not much sitting during Office),
then came the pilgrimage to the pump, followed by
an hour and a quarter’s kneeling, bolt upright on a
hard deal stool, the hands closely joined (not clasped
which is less irksome), not a sound could be heard
�Convent Experiences.
25
from the old priest at the altar, and not a thing could
he seen, save the back of a Novice in front of you,
for we were arranged in rows one behind the other. The
quality of the bread and butter served at supper was
excellent, and the quantity unlimited, but many of
the Choir-novices could eat but very little of such
simple food. Insufficient air, sleep, and exercise, com
bined with almost uninterrupted brain-work, do not
tend to promote appetite; the nervous system was
habitually over-wrought; the Choir-novices were in a
constant state of tension, and the diet, even had they
been able to enjoy it, was ill-adapted to repair the
waste going on in the delicate machine upon which
such terrible demands were made. The Choir-novices
are the chief victims of the conventual system, for
the Lay-sisters, from whom mere muscular labour is
required, have ordinarily excellent appetites, and the
diet seems to suit them, moreover to them the transi
tion from the world to the cloister is frequently a
change for the better.
The Choir-novices sometimes fainted on their return
to their cells after Little Hours—one with whom I had
many conversations frequently fainted before breakfast
—she languished for want of sleep. There was plenty
of time to sleep provided you fell asleep at a quarter
to ten, as the Lay-sisters were sure to do after working
in the garden all day, but an over-taxed brain refuses
to sleep at the word of command, and many of the
Choir-novices could not compose themselves till after
midnight. It was seldom known that anybody had
fainted, for, from motives of piety, the Novices suf
fered in silence like their Master; moreover, they
were afraid of being sent back into the world as
too delicate for the cloister, so that not until they
broke down altogether was their enfeebled state
of health adequately realised. I was now among the
Bible doers, who literally took “ no thought for the
body,” and who fasted with a happy heart and a
�•2 6
Convent Experiences.
cheerful countenance, “ as to the Lord and not to
men.” Any Novice taken ill in the chapel was after
wards permitted to sit during meditation. Just in
front of me knelt an unusually tall girl, who had per
mission to sit, tand one day I asked her how it was
that she never availed herself of that permission.
She replied, “because I should fall asleep immedi
ately.” The Novice-mistress had something to lean
against, and often went to sleep; had we had some
thing to lean against ire should often have gone to
sleep ! That tail-girl (I forget nearly all their names)
drooped very soon after her arrival for want of more
animal food ; her lips and the inside of her eyelids
became quite white. Had she earlier made her re
quirements known she would have had some meat for
breakfast, but, like them all, she dreaded being sent
away as too feeble to observe the rule, so kept gradu
ally losing her strength until her languishing appear
ance excited attention. She had been educated in
the Convent-school, and, like many of the pupils, she
returned to live and to die among the companions of
her childhood. I am quite certain that all the girls
in that large Novitiate were voluntary victims, that
not the slightest attempt was made to induce them to
remain, and that they dreaded nothing so much as
the possibility of rejection. One pretty, lively Novice
was expelled during my stay for disobedience, and on
the morning’ fixed for her departure, she positively
refused to leave her bed, and had to be dressed and
ejected by main force.
And now let us go to breakfast. Some of us were
quite tired by breakfast-time, and there was but little
rest to be had during meals, for we sat upon forms or
stools, which afforded no support to the poor back.
We had brown bread and butter on brown wooden
platters, and about a pint of very fair coffee, nice and
hot, but without sugar. We were allowed to talk
during1 breakfast, and not one of the meals was hurried
�Convent Experiences.
27
over. The quantity of coffee was, I believe, unlimited ;
as often as a mug was pushed into the middle of the
table somebody got up and put coffee into it.
Then came the washing-up, a duty which generally
devolved upon the new-comers. Two large tubs of
very hot water were brought in by a Lay-sister, the
mugs were washed by one Postulant, rinsed by another,
and wiped by a third. We were cautioned never to
catch hold of anything by its handle. Handles were
looked upon solely as excrescences intended for orna
ment, and were therefore to be avoided, especially
during the washing-up. The water-jug in my cell
was the only dne I ever saw which had a bardie
and a spout; they had all fallen victims to circum
stances at the pump before my arrival, but the dinner
mugs, being entrusted to the Choir-postulants, were
most of them intact. Even now I rarely meddle with
handles, to the extreme amusement of my acquaint
ances. After the washing-up came the dread “ mark
ing ” of the Breviary, ready for Matins, and Lauds,
which were said daily at six o’clock in the evening.
Common sense and human nature are frequently
outraged in Convents ; but, unfortunately for those
who are so clamorous for their demolition, it can be
shown that most Convent-practices, so far from being
in opposition to the “Word,” are in strict accord
ance with it.
Supernatural motives and uncommon actions dis
tinguish alike the Prophet of Mount Carmel, the
Baptist in the Desert, and the Bernard in the Cloister.
Eervent old David praised God “ seven times aday,” and seven times a-day does the Church call
upon her children to do the same—so far so good.
But David knew the meaning of every word he said,
whereas a very small proportion of those whose mis
fortune it is to “ say Office ”—under pain, mind, of
11 mortal sin ”—understand one word of it.
To the majority of the over-worked secular priests
.•
*
�28
Convent Experiences.
of London the obligatory “ Divine Office ” is a very
serious infliction. Some of them have told me so;
one, indeed, with amazing frankness, said that the
Church had done wisely to make prayer compulsory,
for otherwise he for one should never pray at. all!
However, priests may say Office just when they like
—all at once or piece-meal—out loud or in a whisper
—fast or slow according to—I was going to say
devotion—but I had better say time. An hour suffices
for most priests to say the ordinary Office of the day
with sufficient distinctness to satisfy their consci
ences, and as they occasionally understand some of
it, things might be worse. In the Convent matters
are worse, considerably worse—for there it is very
unusual for anybody to understand any of it. I was
quite an exception, for having formerly given some
attention to Italian and having long been familiar
with the Psalms and Hew Testament in Latin, I
could soon find my way about the Breviary far better
than I ever could about the building, but I was the
only Hovice who understood anything more than the
Doxology. Every morning a Nun came to teach the
Novices to “ mark the book,” and at the end of twelve
months many of them were still unable to find their
places, and even the old Nuns themselves were often
at fault when the “ Commemorations ” were numerous.
I believe that “ Office ” was cordially hated by most
of the community, and that among the many uncon
genial occupations of the day not one was so tho
roughly distasteful to the majority as that unintelli
gible and most fatiguing Office. It was said—that
is the longest part of it—at six o’clock in a loud,
distinct monotone, and it occupied nearly an hour.
Many of the poor girls had been using their lungs
the whole afternoon in the various Schools of the
Order, and were quite tired out. I myself have fre
quently had to stop from sheer exhaustion long before
it was over; it was a most oppressive and irrational
�Convent Experiences.
29
affair. Once I asked the Ko vice-mistress if she really
thought God could possibly be pleased with such an.
offering. Her answer conveyed volumes. She re
plied, “ Never allude to the subject, for I cannot
bear to dwell upon it; I always offer up my intention
before it begins, and that is all I can do.” She, and
many of them, could say large portions by heart,
but nobody could translate a line. I thought it very
sad. On Sunday the Office for the Dead was said in
addition, so that the poor lungs got but little rest
even on the Day of Rest.
I have said before that Postulants had plenty of
liberty, so after the marking of the Breviary, I could
do much as I liked until twelve, when I had to
prepare the table for dinner. Being generally very
tired after so much standing, I was glad to have a
long rest in the garden, where I was frequently joined
by the Novice-mistress, with whom I had many very
interesting conversations, but it was only very
gradually that I began to see how fatal even to the
interests of the poor soul are the results of taking
“ no thought for the body.” Bible-readers are indis
putably “ wiser in their generation ” than Bible
doers, and if they could only persuade fervent Chris
tians that the hearers of the word are more acceptable
to God than the doers of it, the Monasteries would
soon be vacated ; but at present the poor fools really
think that they must suffer with their Master here if
they would reign with him hereafter.
Prom the Novice-mistress, I ascertained that many
Novices had been obliged to give up their vocation
and return- into the world in consequence of “ bad
knees.” Constant kneeling upon those hard stools
with no support whatever, seriously and permanently
injured the knee; water formed beneath the skin ;
the joint stiffened ; became enlarged and painful, and
the poor Novice was sent home. A very pretty girl
in the cell next to mine had a bad knee while I was
�30
Convent Experiences.
there—it swelled considerably—the other one became
painful, and for some weeks she could not put her
feet to the ground : however, she got better. Other
diseases (peculiar to women) were common in the
community ; they were indisputably induced by pro
tracted kneeling ; but as the sufferers never men
tioned their various ailments for fear of being sent
away, they were rarely discovered until after the
Vows had been taken.
“Let him that readeth understand,” that there
are voluntary sufferers outside Convent walls who
cast their gifts before a much more numerously fre
quented altar, and who adore a deity who is only to
be propitiated by wasps’ waists, exposed chests, dis
torted feet, and enamelled skin. When I was at school
some years ago, a girl of seventeen suddenly fell back
wards during tea-time, and was carried away in a fit;
the doctor attributed it solely to the camphor she was
in the habit of chewing to make her eyes bright. A
few months ago I visited regularly, first in the hospital,
and afterwards in the workhouse, a poor woman,
who died a very lingering death, owing to a diseased
bone in her instep. She told me she attributed
her then condition to the tight boots she had had
the folly to “ indulge ” in formerly. Magnanimous
victims 1 they suffer without any prospect of recom
pense, whereas, the fools of the cloister are silly
enough to believe that their Father who sees “ in
secret ” will hereafter “ reward them openly
they
actually think Christ said what he meant, and meant
what he said, and they count it all joy to share his
bitter chalice. Continual cheerfulness reigned in the
Novitiate ; I saw only two Novices who seemed dis
contented, they both left; one with whom I am
intimately acquainted begged hard to be re-admitted,
but without success; it was the monotony that
wearied her. Several (I think five), died during my
stay. I am sure they died “ in sure and certain hope
�Convent Experiences.
31
of a happy resurrection but one and all had a terri
ble conviction of an intervening Purgatory of a
frightful character; certainly a “ strange god ” was
worshipped there. One young consumptive Postulant
sickened immediately after her arrival; she begged
to be “ professed ” on her death-bed, her request was
granted, and she died in the religious habit. I may
take this opportunity of saying that Nuns do not
look so dead as other corpses, this is mainly owing to
their being buried in the same dress they wore in
life; those I saw did not look dead at all. I believe
low fever was one of the commonest causes of death.
Pour young Novices carried the coffins to the cemetery,
and the graves were very shallow ; had they been
deeper, the coffins would have floated. These deaths
all occurred in the “ Mother House ” of the community,
in Holland. Sickly members are generally sent
back from “ Missions ” to die in the Mother House.
The mortality was, I believe, high in the Order, so
the Nuns thought, but I am no judge. I confine
myself to what I know to be facts ; the Choir-novices
soon declined in health, and I saw very few elderly
Nuns.
At twelve the bell rang for vespers, and at half
past twelve we dined. There was always beef for
dinner, preceded by soup, accompanied by vegetables
or stewed fruit, and sometimes followed by a pudding.
The beef was generally stewed; if cold, there was
always abundance of nice, good, hot gravy for the
potatoes, but we seldom had cold meat. Strange to
say, this sameness of animal food never affected me
unpleasantly, neither did I ever hear anyone complain
of it or appear weary of it. We each had a clumsy looking soup plate, in which we received everything
we ate. We had large wooden spoons, which were
never washed—we licked them, wrapped the bowl in
paper, and rolled them up in our dinner-napkins with
our forks. Sand was handed round after dinner in a
�32
Convent Experiences.
saucer, we dipped our forks in it and rubbed them
bright with a piece of paper. A religious book was
always read aloud at table, and the mortification of
the eyes was especially enjoined during meals; once
I availed myself of it to transfer all my meat from
my plate to my pocket; it was tainted, and as it was
forbidden to leave anything (though a pig was kept),
I had no alternative. Lest any No-Popery champion
should thence conclude that the meat was invariably
unfit for food, I must add that it was generally good
and sufficiently well prepared, though always over
cooked, to be moderately inviting ; he will, however,
be pleased to hear that the beer was always detestable.
The reading during dinner was a gross absurdity.
Eating was a merely animal process, and consequently
disgraceful, so we were enjoined to nourish our souls
the while with holy reflections ; but as it was just
possible that our thoughts during feeding time might
take a carnal turn, a spiritual book was read aloud.
I was older than the rest, and upon a very different
footing with the Novice-mistress, so some months
later, when we had become very intimate I ventured
to insinuate that very few of the Novices were
attending to the reading, and that I sincerely hoped,
upon gastronomical grounds, that nobody was listening.
She seemed amazed at the surmise, for though she
admitted that her head was far too full of other
things, hers being a post of very great responsibility
and the Novices numerous, to allow of her attention
being fixed upon the reading, it had never occurred
to her that the thoughts of others might be wander
ing too. I asked her to put the matter to the test,
so one day she called out during dinner, “ Sister
Eudoxia, what is the reading about?” The poor
Novice rose, blushed, and muttered that she didn’t
know. Several more were appealed to with the same
results, and my triumph was complete. Of course,
the Novice-mistress, as in duty bound, reproved us
�Convent Experiences.
33
collectively for our supineness concerning our salva
tion, and reminded us that “ the kingdom of God is
not meat and drink.”
Immediately after dinner we had to say the 51st
Psalm out loud, marching the while from the refec
tory to the chapel, where some prayers were said
kneeling; then, after five “ Our Fathers ” and five
“Hail Marys,”repeated with extended arms, we pro
ceeded to the garden for the first Recreation ; but
several of the poor Choir-novices being by that time
quite tired out, were obliged to confess their need of
repose, and used to pass the Recreation time lying on
their straw beds in their cells. I have said there was but
little shade in the garden, and walking up and down
in the sun just after dinner was not invigorating—
we had no sun-shades, and my skin has never
recovered its previous hue. The interval between
breakfast and dinner had been spent by the Choir
novices in either teaching or studying, and at two
o’clock a bell called them all from the garden or the
dormitory to the same occupations, which lasted until
four. The Novitiate was ill-ventilated, it had. no
fireplace; the seats had no backs. In summer the
Novices might study in the garden, but as they could
not write comfortably in the open air they were gene
rally in the Novitiate. The carriage of most of
the Nuns was very bad—they stooped sadly, owing,
doubtless, to the demands made upon their spines
and chests. At four another bell rang—it was the
favourite bell “according to the flesh,” for it
announced a mug of coffee, a piece of bread-andbutter, permission to talk, and a brief respite from
lessons. The coffee was indescribably grateful—
never were the refreshing effects of that dear little
berry more apparent than in that Teaching Order,
where the nervous system was always on the stretch.
Close to me sat a clever Novice of twenty-two.
She was preparing for an examination and was
�34
Convent Experiences.
learning two foreign languages; I was her English
mistress, and a better pupil I never had. Novices
always do their best “ as to the Lord and not to
men.” I think she sometimes drank a quart of
coffee at four o’clock. She told me she never could
say a single prayer without distractions ; she thought
of her studies right through meditation, mass, office,
<&c., and was wholly absorbed by them. She had a
marvellous memory, but, like them all, she was
cruelly over-worked and became subject to attacks
of hysteria. Ignorance of, and contempt for, .the
poor body produced these melancholy results. Let
it not be supposed that the Superiors of Monastic
Orders are in clover while th e underlings are doing
bitter penance. I have never known and never
heard of the Superior of any Convent who had not
wretched health ; they are generally subject to violent
headache, neuralgia, and indigestion. Once I saw a
bit of rag peeping out from behind the Novice
mistress’s ear. I asked what it was. After a little
hesitation she said she had very sore ears, and that
something was the matter with her head. A little
coaxing induced her to let me see it. She took me
into her cell—it was close to mine and just like it—
she took off her stiffly-starched white cap and tight
skull-cap which were under the heavy black veil of
the Order. A Nun looks very strange without her
head-gear. I should not have known my Novice
mistress, she looked more like Jack Sheppard ! Her
poor head was all over scabs—white scabs—and
underneath these scabs a watery discharge was
slowly oosing. There was no skin behind her ears,
which were very red and quite wet. She used the
bits of rag to prevent the two surfaces from coming
into contact, for the skull-cap just caught in the tops
of the ears and bound them tightly to the head. She
had formerly had abundant auburn hair, and soon
after it was cut off this disease made its appearance.
�Convent Experiences.
35
She told me that others had similar heads.- I was
horror-struck. I moistened the scabs with warm
water and tenderly detached them all; then I saw
the thin discharge going on beneath. I often
washed her head, but all the scabs returned. Of
course the disease had become chronic. Air could
not possibly penetrate through the three thick cover
ings worn on the head, one of which was so stiff
that it was like card-board—it took a quarter of an
hour to rub the starch into it. Why they ran
counter to Bible teaching in regard to cutting off the
hair I never knew. It did not seem to answer.
Some of the Nuns had setons; the Infirmarian told
me so. She said they could not do without them,
but I do not know why they were required. I
never heard of them in this country, save, indeed,
as a thing of the past, but there they were in full
force.
At a quarter-past four we were all in the Chapel
for the Visit to the Blessed Sacrament; and as it was
the only time when we were at liberty to choose our
own devotions and say what we liked to God, that
brief visit was much appreciated. Moreover, it came
just after the coffee, and as it only lasted ten minutes
our poor knees had not time to become insupportably
painful. I only cared for mental prayer, and though
I had not the same reason for objecting to “ Office ”
as the others, I very early began to discover that the
immense amount of vocal prayer of all sorts appointed
by the Rule was calculated to put all real devotion to
flight, and that prayer was likely to become a merely
mechanical affair. My old Confessor had begged of
me to be in no hurry either to censure or to commend
what I saw in the Convent, but to wait quietly and
study the effect the whole thing made upon me before
I came to a conclusion. I followed his advice.
After the Visit most of the poor Novices resumed
their studies, and some of them took a sly glance at
�36
Convent Experiences.
their Breviary to see if they had forgotten where to
find and how to read the Antiphons, which at six
o’clock would have to be distinctly repeated in the
Chapel. I have known a Novice lose her appetite for
a week at the very thought of having to say the An
tiphons in the Choir, and then when the dread mo
ment arrived I have seen her burst into tears and
leave the Chapel sobbing. The nerves of a fervent
Novice who is striving with all her might to enter in
at the narrow gate, are necessarily morbidly sensitive,
and the mode of life is enough to undermine the
strongest constitution.
I do not recall one Novice who did not droop visibly
during my stay. They faded cheerfully, suffered
heroically, and “ died daily ” to all the comforts and
luxuries of life with a constancy and a devotion past
all praise; but willing as was the “ spirit ” the poor
neglected “flesh” was weak. The very thought of
those poor girls saddens me still. The tendencies,
the inevitable tendencies, of Convent virtues depressed
me, and the conviction that they were not one whit
exceeding the spirit of the New Testament, which I
was just then continually reading, drew my thoughts
into a very unexpected channel.
Roman Catholics face boldly all the New Testament
difficulties, and most generously do they try to meet
them. Protestants, on the contrary, shirk them;
they wish Christ had never said “ Whosoever forsaketh not all that he hath and hateth not all his
relations, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my
disciple.” Protestants would rather be imperfect
and stick to their money than be perfect on Christ’s
terms ; so would most Catholics. I am not extolling
Catholics over Protestants ; all I contend for is that
good Protestants repudiate those principles which are
pre-eminently Gospel principles, and that good Roman
ists cordially embrace them and carry them out to
perfection.
�37
Convent Experiences.
Convents and Monasteries are not to blame ; if the
spirit that animates them be to blame, then let its
whereabouts be discovered and let it be stifled forth
with ere more victims wither beneath its influence.
Long before I contemplated a Convent life I was
familiar with bodily penances. None were allowed
in the cloister. Some of the Novices arrived with a
tight iron chain twisted round them ; it was at once
taken away and never returned.
The reader has now been informed how most days
passed in the Convent; from half-past four in the
morning until half-past nine at night there was no
change in the daily routine, but on Saturdays there
was a different programme. Before looking at it I
will state that after three months I was clothed, and
was a very happy, healthy Novice. I have said before
that many of the Novices concealed their ailments,
and were frequently very much to blame for their
reticence. I spoke out boldly to the Novice
mistress upon matters physical, and had the satis
faction of hearing her inform all her children
collectively that they were to sit in the Chapel when
kneeling affected them unpleasantly. We always
addressed her on our knees, an invariable custom in
all Convents, for the Superior represents God. This
startles Protestants, but it has no peculiar effect
upon Catholics, who from childhood upwards are
accustomed to listen to their Confessor week after
week as if he were God. Nothing could exceed the
good understanding there was between the Novice
mistress and her Novices, they all loved her; kneeling
did not diminish the affectionate familiarity of our
intimacy with her.
On Saturdays many strange things came to light.
We wore knitted black worsted stockings, and on
Saturdays we washed them, but no soap was allowed
—soap was said to spoil them. On Saturdays we
cleaned out our cells in the strangest way. Wet
D
�38
Convent Experiences.
sand was flung under the bed and we swept it out
with a common birch-broom. Fleas were looked for
on Saturdays. The Convent was beautifully clean
but there were fleas in the straw beds, and, as no
sheets were used, it was easy to find the fleas in the
twilled flannel coverings which did duty for sheets.
Once I caught seventeen fleas in “ our ” cell! The
straw beds were not uncomfortable, but they were
dangerous; the straw wasted, the beds became thin,
and many of the Nuns suffered from rheumatism,
which they assured me was caused by the want of
warmth underneath them ; the beds should have
been refilled more frequently.
On Saturdays we went to Confession. I am quite
familiar with the edifying and suggestive revelations
current in No-Popery publications. Of course “ they
speak that they do Ivnow and testify that they have
seen." I am going to do likewise. The priests 1
know consider it a misfortune to have anything to do
with Convents; they esteem no infliction comparable
to the bore of hearing Nuns’ confessions; they would
far rather hear a regiment of soldiers, who have a
catalogue of mortal sins to get rid of, than listen to
the monotonous rigmarole of a scrupulous Nun in
whose whole lifetime it would be difficult to find halfa-dozen voluntary deviations from the path of rectitude.
I know that if I were a priest I should avoid Convents.
Moreover a Convent priest always plays second fiddle
to the Superior and ranks after her in the estimation
of the Novices. Our old priest rarely said a word to
us. We were forbidden to ask him any advice, for
then his influence might have clashed with that of
the Novice-mistress. We were urged to get over our
Confession as quickly as possible in order not to keep
the rest waiting, and I am quite sure that very few
of us exceeded five minutes. I have been to confes
sion many hundreds of times “in the world,” andean
say with all sincerity that it is very rare to be ques
�I
Convent Experiences.
39
tioned at all in the Confessional. You are expected
to make haste and be off, as the secular priest has no
time to spare, and his poor, ignorant, half-prepared
penitents have the greatest claim upon him. I know
but one Catholic priest who likes hearing Confes
sions ; most of them hate it.
While I was a Postulant I had a large piece of
soap, but when I was clothed it was taken away, and
I was instructed to kneel down and ask for a piece of
community soap. I did so, saying “ May I for the
love of God have a piece of soap ; ” the usual form of
petition. A very hard bit of white soap, not quite
an inch square, was put into my extended hand, and
I was told that it was against Holy Poverty to use
the corner of my towel (certainly with such a bit of
granite as that piece of soap, it would have been !)
but that I might have a bit of an old stocking. I
made my acknowledgments in the accepted form,
“ Deo gratias,” and retired with the soap. The
next day was Saturday, and while sitting in the No
vitiate wondering where all the others were, a Novice
came and told me to go and wash my arms. Quite
amazed, I asked why ? “ Because,” replied Sister
Adelphine, “ the Novice-mistress says so ; ” she added
“ we always wash our arms on Saturday afternoons.”
This I thought a most troublesome and inconvenient
arrangement; but it never occurred to me till later
that arms were washed on Saturday afternoons only !
Legs were never washed at all!
Whatever struck me as strange I always discussed
with the Novice-mistress, not on my knees, but “ face
to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend.” From
her I learnt that nobody was allowed to wash until
she had put her stays on and had covered her neck
with a large handkerchief. Soap was to be used for
the face on Saturdays only. Arms were to be washed
on Saturdays only. Feet were never to be washed
with soap, and the water was only to rise to the ankle.
�40
Convent Experiences.
She had been eighteen years in the Convent, and her
ablutions had never extended further. Coarse flannel
chemises were worn next the skin; they were never
tak&n off at night, and were changed only once in
three weeks. Recently-clothed Novices, like myself,
were allowed to retain their own under-linen for some
weeks, or even longer. Woollen chemises were only
given to those who seemed likely to remain.
I was thunder-struck when I fully comprehended
the washing arrangements, and the Novice-mistress
was equally thunder-struck when she fully realised
what my notions of ablution involved. Only one
Postulant had ever presented herself to that large
community whose ideas upon soap and water at all
resembled mine. She left just before my arrival;
and, by a very curious coincidence, I have made her
acquaintance and we are very intimate. She is a
very intelligent Frenchwoman ; and when she found
that she could not have her accustomed cold bath,
she gave utterance to her sentiments with great free
dom, and left before she was elevated to the rank of
Novice. I proceeded more cautiously, and reserved
my remarks for the ever-willing ear of my friend the
Novice-mistress. I found that this woful neglect of
personal cleanliness was mainly due to profound
ignorance of the requirements of the body ; but as I
and the French lady were the only two among the
hundreds that, in the course of eighteen years, had
come under her notice who had expressed the smallest
astonishment at the washing arrangements, she was
quite justified in considering us peculiarly fanciful in
our notions. I could not persuade her that health
was at all contingent upon the condition of the skin.
When we discussed insufficient air, food, sleep,
clothing, and exercise, she readily embraced my
views, because the low tone of health among the Choir
novices was clearly attributable to those causes ; but,
unfortunately for my argument, no ill effects met the
�Convent Experiences.
41
eye which could be as clearly traced to insufficient
ablution. There were seventy young ladies m the
celebrated school attached to the Convent; they were
from the best families in the country. I was early
appointed “ Surveillante ” in the largest dormitory,
and was there while the children dressed and un
dressed. They used as much soap as they liked, but
they washed no more than we did—their feet were
washed less frequently, for while we might wash ours
every week they were allowed to wash theirs (and
no higher than the ankle) only once a fortnight.
Surely had they been accustomed to ample ablutions
at home, their parents would never have tolerated
such disgraceful neglect at school. I never heard one
of the children make any remark upon the subject,
and they all were in excellent health—so were the
numerous Lay-sisters, and yet not one drop of water
ever penetrated below the collar-bone or above the
ankle. They were all extremely dirty. With but
few exceptions all Monks, Nuns, and the children in
Convent schools are equally dirty—unblushingly
dirty.
...
The “ religious ” of the Order of Saint Dominic
are obliged by their rule to be clean in their persons
__but they are exceptions. I have known ladies
from other Orders who have either been Novices or
pupils, and they all agree with me that bodily filth is
part and parcel of the system pursued in Convents.
My remarks made no impression whatever upon the
Novice-mistress ; she thought me eccentric, and being
very much attached to me humoured me a little now
and then in regard to my skin. I have seen her ex
pressive eyes fill with tears at the thought of the in
adequate sleep, food, &c., which caused so many of
her Novices to languish; but to the advantages of
soap and water she was hopelessly insensible. The
Catholic Church teaches her children to hate, despise,
and mortify their flesh; the spiritual books tell them
�4-2
Convent Experiences.
to be ashamed and afraid of their bodies. Luckily
most of them give the Church the go-by, but in the
Convent they are conscientious and they act out their
convictions. Still I am bound to say that in my
opinion ignorance rather than fanaticism is at the
bottom of Convent filth.
The discovery of a bundle of babies’ bones would
indisputably have both startled and shocked me, but
my impression is that I should have rallied from its
effects far more rapidly than I did from the discovery
of the daily, monthly, yearly filth of the “ Spouses
of Jesus.” There was an incongruity about it I
never could get over ; and how it happens that my
views on the matter were so very unprecedented mys
tifies me still.
It was on a Saturday that I was told I was to leave
Holland, for that an English teacher was sadly
wanted in one of their Mission-Houses in London,
and that in a day or two I should return to my own
country with my new Superior. They avoided as
much as possible sending Novices from the MotherHouse, because, as the vows could not be taken else
where, their travelling expenses had to be paid back
again for the Profession. However, as nobody else
would have been equally available just then, I was
selected to go to London with the former Novice
mistress, whose new title was Sister Superior. I told
my dear, old friend that we should in all probability
never meet again. I had already almost made up my
mind to leave the Order, and she knew it. The very
many confidential conversations I had had with her
during nearly a year and a-half, combined with my
own observations, had convinced me that to make
the religious vows perpetual is both silly and cruel.
I am quite sure that many of the Nuns regretted
having made their vows, and I am equally sure that
no power on earth would induce them to break them.
I am certain that nothing is hidden from the Novices ;
�Convent Experiences.
43
they are frequently in regular harness for two years
before they take their vows, and know perfectly well
to what mode of life they are binding themselves ;
but it is a sad mistake to make the vows perpetual.
After a few years, when the first fervour has worn off,
when the health is seriously impaired, and when there
is nothing to look forward to but monotony, some of
them begin to doubt whether, after all, they have
done wisely. One of the Nuns told me she had never
ceased regretting the step she had taken, and she was
indisputably miserable.
Courtship precedes matrimony and the Novitiate
precedes the vows—both frequently turn out failures
—the bride and the Novice may make a mistake—one. becomes a wretched Nun, the other a miserable
wife, and yet neither is to blame. The Novice, how
ever, has ample time to make up her mind; she is
animated by the best motives; she feels happy, but
still she is honestly shown both sides of the question ;
she has less excuse than the bride, who sees but one
side; but she, the Novice, deliberately puts her head
into the noose and very rarely withdraws it. The
Visitation of Religious Houses by Protestant authori
ties twould be wholly useless. Nuns can get out of
durance without their aid if so disposed—but they
very rarely are so disposed, however miserable they
may be. Nuns can be released from the two vows of
Poverty and Obedience—one was so released by the
Bishop; she was an English woman of five-andthirty, and she left Holland during my stay there.
Protestants constantly forget that the inmates of
Convents do not want to get out, and that if they
were out they would still pursue the mode of life
which they consider in harmony with the precepts of
the Gospel, and with the practice of the Early Church.
There are Monks and Nuns in “ the world ” as well
as in the Cloister. I know some—some, moreover,
who lead a far more ascetic life than would be
�44
Convent Experiences.
allowed in most Cloisters. All the Nuns I knew en
tered the Convent in order the more closely to imitate
Christ. Had “ the world ” not been so hostile to his
interests, they would have remained in it.
They suffer quite as much as the relatives who de
plore them, but they see no alternative. Prove to
them that they would be more like Christ without his
poverty, his chastity, and his obedience, and that ab
solute self-renunciation is no part of his teaching,
then and then only will the Monasteries and the
Nunneries be vacated; but as long as the New Tes
tament contains the texts upon which their course of
action is founded, so long shall we see the muchdespised fruits of their voluntary Poverty, Chastity,
and Obedience.
PRINTED
BY C. W. REYNEEL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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Convent experiences
Creator
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Barlow, Adela F. [Miss]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 44 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by C.W. Reynell, Little Pulteney Street, London.
Publisher
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Thomas Scott
Date
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1875
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CT144
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Convents
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<img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br /><span>This work (Convent experiences), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
Language
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English
Convents
Conway Tracts
Nuns