The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-01-16
The Monks of La Trappe.

The Monks of La Trappe.
The announcement of the death OF
the Marquis of Montfa in q Trappist
monastery causes est. Leger" to write
as follows to the Philadelphia Evening
Telegraph
Now I happened not long since to see
this noble recluse who had taken the
oath of eternal silence at the convent
of La Trappe, and some account of my
visit to the grim and desolate plain and
monastery near Antwerp, Belgium,
may not be devoid of interest.
l mounted the seat of a rough open
country wagon not long ago, and was
driven by an honest Beige toward the
plains of Westmeal. Through the de-
vious streets of the old cathedral city ;
past the Notifications, whose fosses were
blooming terraces, over the river
Scheldt by the side of ~far-reaching
canals, we drove for two hours until
we reached a wild and healthy plain
a desert of brush and stunted oak-of
course brier and gorse. Ny driver stop
ped in front or a little bier-haus, and
in the distance was the holy house of
La Trappe. This was a large, irregu-
lar stone building, from the centre of
which arose q heavy and unsightly bel
fry. Surrounding it was a rude stone
walk, and about 200 acres of titled and
cultivated land, rescued by monks from
the barren plain. Ipulled the bell at
the p~Orte-cOcheTe, and soon heard the
sound of footsteps approaching the
gate. A grating in a small wicket was
pushed back /; a human eye surveyed
tho cfronnror for a TO0AVonpf &. tho hoour
door creaked ON its rusty hinges, and l
was admitted to the court yard-vast,
rude and gloomy. Before me stood a
man of go, with bent form and sinister
eyes. His great heavy lips moved as if
His crown was shaver. He wore a cas-
sock of dirty yellow flannel. confined
at the waist by a cord of common rope.
On his feet were coarse shoes, but no
stockingt, and it was bleak November.
As I approached the house this mute
guide stopped at every ten PAGES to
PROSTATE himself upon the stones before
the image of the virgin, placed in a
niche in the center of the building.
Entering the large, cold hall of the
monastery, my silent guide ushered
me into an ante-room and departed.
Here the floors were bare, the walls
w~hitewashed, and ranged around the
room hard benches. Hanging or the
walls were large painted notices, in
French, framed in wood, very common
colored cuts of monks undergoing ev-
cry species of self-torture and scourge /;
and such dismal legends as the follow
ing "Man, a sinner, must not repose
an hour, not an instant even, but must
march nearer each moment to the door
of death % 1 was soon joined by the
only member of the order, Father Hu-
bert, who is permitted to speak, yet to
strangers only and during my visit
this monk gave me some curious general
details of their famous community.
When a man enters the convent his
past life is obliterated. Family, friends,
fortune, even name, is buried as in a
grave. When he dies, nothing but a
wooden cross is placed up n the
mound, and that soon crumbles and
mingles with the sod. The oath of
eternal silence is solemnly admin
istered a new name is given to the
brother recluse, and the man is forever
lost in the Monk. Before taking a gen
eral view of the monastery, Father
Hubert invited me to partake of his
frugal meal-it was the hour of noon.
1 accepte , not unwilling to know some
thing Of the regimen of these priests of
the desert. The repast was simple.
We were waited upon by a taciturn
brother in the garb [ have already de-
scribed. No woman is ever permitted
to cross the threshold of their dwelling.
There was served at first a thin soup of
hot milk, in which foated a few pieces
of toasted bread then some roasted po-
tatoes and poached eggs, and a glass of
very small beer brewed on the place
(this is called the Flamand's lambic), a
piece of good cheese, and a crust of
bread completed the wholesome meal.
Father Hubert then arose, read a short
prayer out of his well-w1rn roberta
Kempis," and showed his willingness to
show me through the monastery and
grounds.
The most terrible object that meets
the gaze on entering the vast vestibue
is a skeleton clock" hanging against
the white wall. A huge dial is fixed
there, and by its side a perfect human
skeleton which points with its feshless
fingers to the hour as the dial plate re-
wolves. Beneath this horrible and
CHASTITY time-piece are the words:
"WgiGate! x x QuiG neScitis diem
neque haran1." {" Watch! Ye know
not the day nor the hour" y
From this gloomy hall we passed into
the cells of the brothers; through their
sleeping dormitories = simply hard
boards covered with blankets-thence
into the chapel. This was large and
gloomy; at its extremity was placed q
high, dark altar. In irregular positions
in the chapel we're creatures in sombre
vestments, kneeling, with their heads
buried in books, or crouching abjectly
on the floors, Dr. against the walls, like
wild beasts in their lairs.
Here I saw the worst type of the hui
man countenance-where great lines of
sorrow or crime, or both, were traced in
indelible characters. Helpless, mute,
neutrality-suspicious. a word or sound. Oh
it was terrible There were only a
few young men among the ascetics, but
let it be forever unwritten how youth
could bury itself in this living grave !;
and let it be forever unwritten, too, how
age, titles, honors, and birth can drop
into an unknown grave, uns olaced by a
sigh, unlamented by a single tear.
Out into the broad garden, at the very
chapel gate, / saw an open gate. I said
to my guide a:
"Have you then a funeral to-day?"
"No, Monsieur" he replied, teach
monk is required to take out a spade
full of earth every day to make a grave.
If, by the time it is finished, nous
n'aVOns pas an cGdaUre Eve have no
corpse), we Gil it up and commence an
other. 1t reminds us of DEATH" Horri-
bic philosophy!
By the side of this grave stood amonk
who was designated "Frer6 Am6rOjse"
to-day only. 1 learn that the lonely
and silent priest of La Trappe in the
great world was called Marquis de
Montfia." Alas alas