New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1891-03-28

LABOR, FASTING AND DEVOTION
FROM STAFF CORRESPONDENT OF THE TRIBUNE
Gethsemane, KY, March 3.-While all the rest
Of Kentucky is astir with energy and ambition
there is one place where nothing is known of the
Constitutional Convention, the rise of the trotter
or the value of town-lots. This is the celebrated
monastery of La Trappe, near Gethscmane No
more startling contrast could anywhere be found
ALI around are busy factories and cheerful homes
that celebrate the beauty and benignty of Chris
tan civilization Here a handful of gloomy re-
ldonists new themselves up in dismal cloister,
notifying every healthy human instinct with
scourging and fasting, spending the day in mean
and proftless TOLL and chanting hymns the live
long night and appealing TO God of wrath to
forgive the sins of world on which they have
turned their backs forever. Some writers profess
to read in this life inspiring sublimity and gran
deur To me 1t has appeared unspealSably pain
full and depressing
You reach Gethsemane in about two hours by
rail from Louisville. The country is broken by
steep, hill knobs, covered with scrub forest.
When you leave the train these chill and dreary
mornings the silence is that of the grave. The
gray clouds hang low. The black smoke from a
distillery near the station sinks almost to the
ground, and light mist mutles the ring of a
huntsman's rife. A little old man, with white
hair and tiny blue eyes, dressed in a cape overcoat
with wide sleeves, drives over with braSs-lOcked
leather satchel for the mail, and takes you in for
the return journey behind an aged mare that be-
gins by starting before you are ready, and then
has to be urged every foot of the way. For some
distance you jolt and creak and founder over
muddy road that in wet weather is almost i'm
passable and requires all the attention of the
driver Then you emerge on well-lept turn
pike and your companion, who is nearly seventy
and reads Locke On the Human Understandings
entertains you with stories of the monks aus
terity and chronic dumbness.
The first signs of the monastery are a tall white
spre, lifting its cross from behind the dun hills,
and large cross near the roadside that surmounts
a pile of rock-work.
That's sacred grotto." says the driver. i" with
o figure of our Saviour taken down from the cross
and his blessed Mother, the Blessed Virgin. Now
we re coming on the monastery property. These
green wheat-felds are titled by the brothers.
You see that little orchard? They make cider
from the apples: but last fall the crop was
failure"
AT turn in the road the entire monastery
is revealed-a square pile of solid brick, with
tall windows the white clock-spire soaring from
a far corner and all looking forbdding enough
under the desolate sky. The monks are at mass
as YOU approach, and no living thing enlivens
the dreary landscape save few lambs whose
bells tinkle forlornly. The country, nevertheless,
as the driver quantity says, presents very
pretty appearance in the summer season. The
gate is approached by an avenue of
elms To the left rise few cemetery shafts ana
headstones Across the end stretches the gate
house. long, low building that no woman may
ever pass except the wife OF the President OF the
United States, whom the community recognizes as
the first lady in the land" On the sombre door
is the inscription "On Sundays and holidays no
visitors are admitted"
The driver pulls dangling bell-rope and starts
a doeful clangor. AS it dies away the door swings
open and reveals vision from Chaucer-a short,
bearded friar, in dingy Brown habit, a round
skull cap and leathern girde, from which hangs
a bunch of keys. His complexion is a watery
mink. like that of all very thin-blooded people,
and he raises TO your face blue eyes that look
Won through and through. You awkwardly solicit
his hospitality.
oh. that's all right" says Brother August, in
the sotest of tones, as though he were accustomed
10 it, Then he grasps your valise and shuiiies
of with his head down through grassy court,
with white image of the Virgin in central ar
Dor. You follow him silently up Short flight
of steps through the great heavy doors OF the
monastery, that awake cavernous echoes as they
close behind you. lie motions you into large,
SQUARE room off the main hail. with bare 1oor'
chilly walls and curtainlesS windows, asks how
long YOU expect to stay. and goes OH 10 see ABOUT
your dinner. Then you somehow shiver as the
door shuts and the clatter of his heavy shoes
dies away in the corridor. The silence is grim
and lowering The cold horror of the place seems
to clutch you. You inspect restlessly the great
crucifx on the wall and the Rembrandtesque
painting of st. Stephens martyrdom, turn the
leaves of the Life of Leo KIP on the table,
count the formal row of chairs and stand over the
furnace register to keep warm At last door
opens and man in ordinary dress beckons you
into the dining-room.
The notice "Visitors are kindly requested TO
observe silence during meals, again dahpehS
your spirits, which have been raised by the pros
pect of something TO eat. The dlnng-room Is sew
eral degrees gloomier than the parlor Inc walls
arc stone-colored, the window-frames leaden anu
The only ornament is another crucifix. The dishes
and bowls are spread on long table, covered
with brown oilcloth. specialized laymah nous
gloomily across the table as you slt down. "u'
when you essay cheerful remark REMINDS you
by downcast eyes and frigid silence OF inc
notice on the wall. After a time his Jaws cedSe
champing and he sinks out through sue oooi'
Then you look sideways at the attendant
Hes Mississippi lawyer" says thai worthy
in an unmstakable brogue He's IN reua'e'
Fwhat am dom here used to be barthender,
but got tired of the world an came here TO rest
He looks dismal enough and seems to be Won
derinp what crime dsturbs your soul as you hhsh
a frugal meal and return 10 the parlor. fresen'N
YOU notice hooded figures passing silently before
the windows. Then the door opens ana silver
headed friar, in dingy white habit with pi'0N
apron and hood, leathern cncture ana keys, peeps
in and comes TO shake your hand. inns Is a.ie'
Peter, the guest-master, one oil 'he noi'os' " ",1
bors =, r. Tronno lie has large teeth and Stop
inc torebea, and his nose is pnched with inc
cold His evelids are red and swollen from ms
constant wills His form is shrunken ana MS
nt.,1l