CHAPTER IV.

_THE VOW OF CHASTITY._

The Vow of Chastity is broken by allowing any part of the arm to be seen above the wrist, so that if we should be engaged in cleaning furniture, or scrubbing floors, or washing clothes, we are not allowed to turn up our sleeves; and as the under garments are made of coarse serge with long sleeves, which are only changed once a fortnight throughout summer and winter, the discomfort of this may easily be imagined. However, the feet may be quite bare all the year round, for those of us, at least, who were considered strong enough, as it is quite in accordance with the Vow of holy Poverty, to go without socks, stockings, or sandals.

As I was very anxious to become a saint, I gladly went about with bare feet for two winters, until I had a bad cough, and was then not allowed to do so any more. Often my feet were so swollen and covered with blood that I could scarcely move, but I was rather pleased at this, because the saints endured like afflictions. By saints I mean those men and women who have been canonized by the Church of Rome. To this source we went in order to find examples of how we might follow Christ. Of course our lady, the “Mother of God,” as the Church of Rome calls the mother of Jesus, was always set before us as an example. Then we were in the habit of placing our holy Father St. Benedict before us; then to the various saints, monks and nuns of our holy Order throughout the world we went, and again to all the saints who had been pronounced blessed by all the Popes who had ever lived.

There is one saint, “blessed John Berchmans,”[6] who is brought prominently forward in the “Diurnal of the Soul,” who particularly irritated me, because he was so perfect in every iota of his life. I used to almost wish he had been occasionally careless, or had now and again lost his temper. Whilst reading “The Monks of the West,” I was quite staggered by the wholesale self-butchery several of these saints practised after their conversion.

I could never understand some of these saints. St. Benedict, in order to overcome temptations to break his Vow of Chastity, is said to have jumped into a bed of thorns and briars. I thought I would be before him, and prevent evil thoughts even presenting themselves, so I obtained permission to sting myself with stinging nettles twice a week, and continued to do so for years, though it hurt me dreadfully for two days after the operation.

A nun or novice breaks her Vow of Chastity by allowing the dress of a secular lady to brush by her sacred habit, or by raising her eyes to a lady’s face when speaking to her, or by raising her eyes at any time except during the one hour’s recreation. Should her brother or father come to see her, she must keep her face closely veiled from their view. Very, very seldom is she sent to speak to any other man, and then only if convent duty makes it a necessity. It was quite impossible to kiss or shake hands with any one, as we were only allowed to see visitors through a small grille, the holes of which were about an inch square, while a professed nun was always near to hear what was said. After a time the rule became stricter, and the grille was covered with a thick baize curtain, and we received orders, in addition to keeping our large thick veils down below the chin, not to draw the curtain back to speak even to a woman. It was also a great sin to speak to, or let any secular women see our faces.

I remember at one time we had a charwoman to work, and I was sent to sweep the kitchen, with orders to keep the veil low down over my face. In vain did I try to sweep, for I could not see, and dared not raise my veil. At last the poor woman tried to take the broom, saying, “Let me do it.” I dared not allow this, for in so doing I should have been guilty of the sin of disobedience, and for the same reason I dared not speak. She tried hard to get the broom, and I tried hard to keep it, without speaking. At last I was almost forced to open my mouth, and I said to her, “Thank you, but I _must_ do it.” So I finished the work, and then in fear and trembling confessed my fault to the reverend Father. He was very angry, and made no excuse for my awkward position, but told me not to attempt to justify my conduct, and that there was no excuse for an act of disobedience. As a punishment, he sent me then and there to recite the whole Psalter.

Should we grow to love a sister very much, we are speedily forbidden to speak to, or hold any communication with her. This of course does not refer to our Superior, as she is in the place of God to us.

Should we put our arm around a dear young sister’s neck or waist, or even take hold of her hand, such conduct would be a breach of this Vow of Chastity, and we must confess that we have been too demonstrative in our affections towards a spiritual sister. In Butler’s “Lives of the Saints,” we read that “St. Clare was so chaste that she would not even touch her father’s hand.” It was different with our Superior’s hand, as it was the rule to kiss that hand when receiving the blessing.

In regard to confession, the same rules were observed as have always existed in the Church of Rome. Every thought, word, and deed had to be confessed, and we had to answer any question the priest might put to us, as nothing is wrong the priest asks in confession; at least this is what we were told.

The priest I confessed to for the greater part of my convent life made me clearly to understand that all he said to me was for myself alone, and was not to be repeated. He bid me keep nothing back, and told me that if I did hide any known sin I should be guilty of sacrilege, my confession would be rendered invalid, and I should be putting myself in the position of Ananias and Sapphira. When I had finished my confession, he used to ask several times, “Are you sure you have told me everything?” It will thus be seen that there is no loophole or excuse to keep anything back, and I never did. Twice he asked me the most outrageous questions, which made me almost shriek, “No! Oh, no!”[7] I had been to him for some years, and had laid my whole life open to him, and there really could be no occasion for him to put such questions to me on subjects that had never before been presented to my mind, in any shape or form. This priest is dead now, and I seldom confessed to another. After I had been a sister and under his direction for nine years, he advised me to leave that convent. Why he gave this advice, I do not know; but I replied at once that I would never go back.