I FOUND little to detain me in the home of my boyhood after the funeral of my mother. I had loved her passionately, and very truly did I mourn her loss. I had been a little disappointed, too, in finding true peace and rest in the life of a monk. More than once the thought that perhaps I had mistaken my vocation and had better return to the world crossed my mind. But if for a moment I dared to indulge it, the excommunication scene I have already described rose before my mental vision, solemn and terrible as on the day I witnessed it; I seemed almost to hear the curses that would, I knew, be pronounced upon my head should I ever become an apostate, and I shrunk away in horror.
Never believe those who tell you that the doors of monastic institutions stand always open, and monks and nuns may quit them at any time should they wish to do so. Rome acquires far too great a power over her votaries, holding them by countless links. The habit of obedience, too, when once formed, is very hard to shake off and adds greatly to the difficulties felt by those who desire spiritual freedom.
I visited several old friends who gave me a cordial welcome, and, I think, the time passed in social intercourse would have been very pleasant had the memory of recent loss been less fresh and painful.
Leave-takings were over at last, and I once more on my way to Bruges. It will be remembered I had left at the wish of my then dying mother; but without the blessing of the abbot. How should I be treated on my return? Possibly, I thought, obliged to recommence my probation, or, if not, subjected to degrading penances. But I was mistaken. On reentering the abbey I was met by the prior, who received me with marked kindness. After vespers I was conducted to the richly-furnished apartments of the abbot, who treated me with far greater courtesy than usual and invited me to take chocolate with him, As we sat together at table, for he would not allow me to remain standing, as was customary in his presence, he put several questions to me as to my mother's death, my journey, and appearing pleased with my answers, encouraged me to speak freely. He then spoke at some length of the blessed life of those who, having left a deceitful world, consecrate themselves to God in the calm and untroubled recesses of the cloister. He
expressed great pity for any who, though they might desire to serve God, had not received the gift of a vocation.
“When shall I resume my studies?" I at last ventured to ask. The abbot smiled and replied kindly, "Take three days' rest in the infirmary, you look pale and worn; a little quiet will do you good. I hope much from you my son." He then rang the bell. The prior entered, and the abbot, after embracing me, confided me to his care.
My interview with the abbot, as it stands recorded on paper, may seem and probably was not very important; yet for a time the whole currents of my thoughts and feelings were changed by it. How could I have dared to question the wisdom or justice of any act of one so far above me, not only in position, but in sanctity, or think of him whom I was bound to obey, and honor as my spiritual father, as hard or unfeeling?
My desire, too, for monastic life revived in all its ardor. I had, it was true, seen some things in it I did not like, others I could not approve; but surely, I thought, my own ignorance and want of experience might account for this.
Though the great design of the order was to educate us for the priesthood, each monk was allowed to choose some trade or profession in which he received regular instruction. I had a decided taste for the study of medicine, and was much gratified by receiving permission to study under and assist the father who had charge of the laboratory, and also of a small hospital connected with our monastery. I can never forget this man, who treated me with uniform kindness, and whose confidence it was my privilege to enjoy. He was a doctor of no mean skill. In early life he had been a medical student, walked several hospitals, and graduated with honors at the university of Louvain. He could hardly have been called young when he joined the order. But his abilities were too marked to pass without notice, and he rose rapidly to his high position. And having really been very successful in his treatment of a certain class of cases, great numbers of the afflicted came often from long distances to place themselves under his care. Beds were provided for a few of the most needy cases, and several monks were employed in the care of the sick, while the room in which he saw his outpatients was frequently crowded. I was in constant attendance on the doctor, assisted him in the preparation of his medicines, and for some years, when his strength began to fail, wrote out nearly all his prescriptions.
It was the ardent desire, the darling wish of our order, to be engaged in the reconversion of England to the dogmas of the Romish faith. We heard much of the importance of the conquest, and were encouraged to pray daily for victory over the heretics whose land we piously coveted. Great, indeed, was our joy when told by the abbot that our order was about to found a priory in England.
England is worth all the efforts the Romish clergy are now bringing to bear upon her. Popery is far-sighted, and knows full well that it is in our own beloved land the great battle now raging all over Europe must be lost or won. Her cause may triumph in Spain or America, and yet lose the day if defeated on British ground, while success in our island home must affect all English-speaking races, and through them the world.
A Catholic bishop in England had invited our order to establish a branch within the limits of his diocese. With a view to this a community of twenty monks, selected with great care, were sent to take possession of their new home to attempt, as we fondly hoped, another Roman conquest of England. I was among their number.