New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1898-10-09
THE ALGERIAN TRAPP!SrS.
LIFE IN THE MONASTERY OF STAOUELI--
THE RULE OF SILENCE NOT
ABSOLUTE.
From The London World.


visit the church. the garden. the cloisters, the
farms and the pathetic cemetery shrorided by
gigantic Expresses on the hill But in Summer.
when the hot ground is purple with the bloom
of the grapes and the scarlet geTanium5 make
glory around the fountain in the court of the
monks. there are but few visitors. And at pre5-
ent. besides myself, there is only one wno is
staying at the monastery-a French priest who
is making a retreat and who appears but sell
dom. Really to appreciate the calm and luXu-
rant beauty Of la Trappe in Africa you must
stay there at least for one night For it is when
night falls that one realizes me SccluSion OF this
haven--at night, when the stars come up over
the giant palms that guard the statue OF the
Virgin. and the breeze steals over the vineyards
from the sea, and the moon shines above the
avenues Of expresses and the thckets OF tall
! eucalyptus trees. The Spanish workmen and
the Arabs have ceased from their long labors in
the fields and have departed to the village or
Staouen or to their hamets in the hills. The
monastery bell has sounded and the pious monks
are gathered in the chapel saying their evening
Office in the twilight.
Pierrc-ex-Spahi and fighter in ten African
campaigns now servant 10 the guests OF la
Trappe-gently jingies his keys as he sits beside
You in the arcade that faces the garden. accepts
a cigarette and prepares to ENJOY half an hour
of leisure. Az the darkness grows among the
palms. and the statues turn into faint white
ghosts, he tells you Of his past life of action OF
his weary hours in the barracks OF Senegal ana
OF TonQuin OF the terrible forests OF the interior,
of his comrades left to rot in the sand under che
beaks Of the vultures. 1t is strange to near
SucE tales IN the garden OF La lTdUDc. S'Ciuutu
within the mighty wall. and yet Pierre speaks
of his violent past with regret. For Is not Gus
tom almost everything to man? The kind monk.
Father Maur who presides over your destinies
while you stay ct the monastery, has spent more
than twenty years at La Trappe. lie loves IL.
Any other life would be impossible to him. the
idea of battle, noise, fury, strife. comes to nm
like some terrible dream OF a haunted nlSht'
But Pierre. who works under his gentle drec-
ton. would willingly take running leap onto
his Arab horse again and scour the desert IN
search OF the enemies Of France, risking death
al every moment.
THE REGIME OF THE MONASTERY.
As he is relating the tale of one of his COM
rades who. having both his legs shot off in
battle cooily rolled cigarette and lay bleeding
and srnOking-on the sand. calmly watching
the issue of the fight, the church bell sounds
again. The office is over. Two or three monks
glide by like shadows. Pierre rises to his feet
and looks at you significantly 1t Is O'CLOCK.
You understand. Bedtime. minute later you
are i'm your little bare bedroom. You hear
key grind in a lock. The monastery is closed for
, the night. go
Perhaps the rigid regime OF La Trappe will
sound irksome to the reader. To live under II
is not irksome Already can sleep at =. and
rise at $40 without discomfort And the quiet
days glide by only too fast: for there is much TO
see. much to do here Often walk up the long
cypress avenue to spend an hour in the church'
yard. Gray could have written another lovely
meditation here among those wooden crosses on
which inscribed the names in religion OF the
known at La Trappe. Beyond the crosses see
the great cultivated plain, formerly savage
desert haunted by wild beasts see the ever
lasting vineyards; | see the great and distant
mountains; I hear the songs of hidden Arabs
working in the fields feel. in the wind the
presence of the sea; and it seems to me. as 10
many others. that it must be sweet to be put
into the live earth here when one is dead IKE
the monks hooded but not pent within the walls
of any coffin They give their bodies thus To the
ground to which they give all those hours which
| in mn Iit a a
sleep. >,,,,,o
For the life of the Trappst monk is no idle
dream He is the hardest labOrer one can
imagine AS | stroll about the farms and plan
tations | sae monks digging potatoes chopplhS
wood gathering grapes drawing water wheel
ing huge barroWs Of vegetables. directing the Ia
borers in the Vineyards planting hoeing de-
stroying weeds, trimming uoWer-beds, tolling IN
the distilery, carpenterng. bOttling Wlne-doinS
n thousand things Generally they are clad in
sober brown or white habits. with hoods, stout
boots and big straw hats. But sometimes, When
their labors are very mental, they cover them
selves up in a sort Of loose blouse Sucn rs u
butcher might wear. In this they are unrecog-
niZable. 4 day Jr two ago was on the farm,
watching herd Of little black pigs fighting over
their food. when young iaborer came up aII
began to talk-about pigs naturally. He told
me that he looked after them and invited ne 10
make the tour Of the pigseries. The CONVERSE
ton slipped from the subject of pigs to that or
bulls from bulls to bullfghts. Thinking the
young man Spanish workman-half the
world is Spanish 1T La Trappe de Staoueli-I
drew out my cigarette-case and offered him
cigarette He refused it gently. saying. ut is
| forbidden: | have not smoked, have not been
outside these walls. for fifteen years. Ard.
turning up his blouse with smile, he showed
| me his monkish habit underneath | learned
| ofterward that he and his father had been
monks together at La Trappe. The father is
buried now in the cemetery. and the son pre-
sides over the destinies of the Trappst pigs.