THE NUN OF JOURRE
SEPTEMBER 17th, 1575. Father only returned home a fortnight ago, after an absence of nearly three months. He has been again in close, almost daily attendance on the Prince of Orange; he received a summons to join the prince at Heidelberg in Germany, where, for more than a year, Charlotte de Bourbon, the lady who is now Princess of Orange, has been the loved and honored guest of more than one Protestant family. The letter father received was in the prince's own handwriting. It was, he said, only right that one who had so bravely shared with him the hardships and dangers of the battlefield should share his joy in being the accepted suitor of one who had, he believed, been trained by God in the school of sorrow, and so fitted to adorn the high position to which He has now called her. They were married on the 10th June.
The life-story of the lady William of Orange has made his wife, but who, not so very long ago, was Nun and even Abbess of Jourre, is indeed a strange and eventful one; I will write down as much of it as I can remember.
Charlotte de Bourbon was the second daughter of the Duke of Montpensier, and so nearly related to the reigning house of France. Her mother, whose eyes had been opened to see the errors of popery, was warmly attached to the reformed faith. Her father, a proud and stern man, was a Romanist; during the wars in which France was so often engaged his property had become reduced, and, as he said, he could only afford to give one of his daughters a marriage portion suitable to his rank. His choice fell upon the elder, and he determined that Charlotte should spend her life within the walls of the nunnery of Jourre, a small town in Normandy.
Charlotte had at that time no desire to become a nun, and shed many tears when informed of her father's decision; but the sorrow of her pious and gentle mother was far deeper, as it sprang from the knowledge that her much-loved child would, besides being taught many things contrary to the word of God, be surrounded by the superstitions from which she herself had been delivered. By every means in her power she tried to induce her husband to change his mind, but in vain; the only favor she could obtain was a promise that Charlotte should be allowed to remain under her care till she was thirteen years of age.
This was, she felt, her God-given opportunity, and she set herself in faith and prayer to make the best possible use of it. Spending several hours each day alone with her daughter in her private apartments, she instructed her in the truths of salvation, taking great care to store her mind and memory with passages from the word of God. Charlotte promised to try and remember all that her mother had taught her, and they often wept and prayed together. The days passed all too quickly, and the time came when Charlotte must enter the convent; her father announced his intention of himself taking her to Jourre.
The parting between mother and daughter was a very sad one; with tear-filled eyes the lady of the castle watched the departure of her beloved child. Would she ever see her again on earth? Perhaps not, for as she was well known to be a Protestant, she might be forbidden to cross the threshold of the convent, and even if allowed to enter its reception room, she could not hope to see her daughter more than once, or at the most twice a year, and could only speak to her through an iron grating, and in the presence of others; while Charlotte, she knew, would not be permitted to write or receive any letters except such as were approved by the Superior.
I do not know very much about convent life, but mother says it is a strange, gloomy system for which there is no authority in the word of God, though she believes that in many cases monks and nuns have taken the vows with a real desire to serve God. Master Martin Luther was at one time himself a monk, but finding as he did in the library of that old convent a copy of a Latin Bible, light from God shone into his soul, and he went forth in more ways than one a free man, free to speak of the One who had saved him, and to give not only the people of Germany, but father believes through them many other lands, Bibles in the language of the common people.
Nuns spend a great deal of their time repeating Latin prayers. They make a vow or solemn promise always and in all things to obey one of their number who is chosen to rule over each house, and is called the abbess, or Lady Superior. They also take what is called "the vow of poverty," that is, that though the order to which they belong may be very rich, no nun can have anything, not even a thimble or a book of her very own, all belongs to the order.
But I am forgetting Charlotte de Bourbon and her story. Soon after 'entering the nunnery she became a novice, or one who intends, or is intended to become a nun. Then came the day of her profession, a day, there' is little 'doubt, spent by her mother in tears and prayers. Her long, beautiful hair was cut off, and she was dressed, according to the rule of the order, in a loose gown of coarse serge, tied round her waist by a cord. She was required to walk barefoot, and with downcast eyes, through the stone-paved halls and passages of the convent, and had to submit to many hard and trying things.
At first she really wished and tried to remember the teachings of her pious mother, but she was very young, and every means was used to lead her to forget that salvation by faith in Christ is the free gift of God; she was told that her own sufferings were pleasing to God and were merits by which she might hope to enter heaven.
At last she fell into the snare, and was one of the most zealous of the sisterhood. She fasted very often, slept at night on the stone floor of her cell, and spent many hours kneeling either before a crucifix or image of Christ upon the cross, or a picture of the Virgin Mary. She was much looked up to by the other nuns, and after some years was chosen to fill the position of Lady Abbess. Her mother had fallen asleep in Christ, and for a time her teachings seemed to have been almost, if not quite, forgotten. She really wished to set a good example to the nuns under her charge, and the nunnery of Jourre became famous throughout France.
But a mother's prayers were remembered by God, and He was about to answer them in His own time and way. No one seemed to know exactly how light came into that convent, but it came through Protestant books; they were read by the abbess, and also some of her nuns; and as she read the memory of all she had heard from her mother seemed to revive in her memory. Again she seemed to hear that loved voice pleading with God for the salvation of the child so soon to be parted from her. She saw clearly that her own so-called good works could not earn or buy salvation. She must receive it, as her mother had done, as the free gift of God. Very simply she accepted Christ as her Savior and peace filled her soul. The life she was living as Abbess of Jourre became distasteful to her. She was not really free to worship God according to the teaching of His word, and she was, she felt, leading others in a path of error. Was there no way of escape? She prayed and waited, and in a way she did not expect God opened the doors of the convent that had become to her little better than a prison-house.
In the year 1572 the noise of war raged round that quiet convent. While many of the nuns sought the protection of their favorite saints, Charlotte de Bourbon prayed to the living God. The soldiers came nearer and nearer, calling upon the nuns to open the gates; this, however, they were afraid to do, so they were broken open, and the nuns fled in terror, spending the night in the woods. But Charlotte was free, and she resolved that all the powers of Rome should not again imprison her within, convent walls. There would, she knew, be many dangers in an attempt to quit France, but she was willing to brave them all for liberty to worship God in the way she saw to be right; and the God in whom she trusted not only guided her steps, but in a remarkable way raised up friends to assist her in her flight.
Dressed as a peasant woman going to market, she fled through part of France, often walking during the hours of darkness, and hiding in the woods till after sunset; more than once she narrowly escaped being taken prisoner by a party of soldiers, who had been sent out to search for her, and before reaching the frontier she was obliged to change her disguise; but after many dangers, tired and footsore, she reached Heidelberg in Germany, where she found Christian friends, who gave' her a cordial welcome, and were able to protect her from the Roman priests, who were very angry that a daughter of the noble house of Bourbon, who had herself been the Lady Abbess of Jourre, should cast in her lot with the despised Protestants.
Disguises were now no longer necessary; Charlotte de Bourbon openly united with the little company of Christians who, like herself, had found a temporary asylum in the old German town, and used every opportunity of becoming better instructed in the word of God. Humble and gentle, she soon endeared herself to many; the Prince of Orange, hearing her story, became greatly interested; personal acquaintance only strengthened the high opinion he had formed of her, and he made her an offer of marriage, which she accepted; and we are all so glad that after so many stormy and sorrowful years, spent as they have been in the cause of truth and freedom, he should have a prospect of domestic happiness, for father believed that his choice had fallen upon one in every way worthy of him, and we trust that her example, both as a Christian and a wife, will be a real help to the women of the Netherlands, but perhaps most of all an encouragement to mothers wherever her story is read or told.
[I should like to add a few lines to Mayken's story, as it will, I believe, not be without interest to know that the present sovereign of Great Britain, King George V., traces his descent in a direct line from Charlotte de Bourbon, Princess of Orange. Her daughter Louisa was the wife of the Elector Palatine of the Rhine, Frederick IV., and grandmother to Sophia, Duchess of Brunswick, who was the mother of George I. of England, whose great grandson, the Duke of Kent, was the grandfather of his late Majesty King Edward VII.]