Evening star., 1899-02-04
A Visit to the Monastery of La
Grande Chartreuse.
WITHIN SOLEMN and GLOOMY WALLS
Customs That Have Been Kept Up
for a Thousand Years.
AT THE MIDNIGHT SERVICE

Yet such IL really is for surrounded by
lofty walls, the two hundred inmates Of
La Grande Chartreuse speak hut once a
week. Monasticism is looked upon as a
thing OF the past. yet in this. the chief
home of the Carthusians. the same cere-
monies and customs and service have been
conducted without a break for nearly a
thousand years and as a monk told us,
with pride, without needing to be reorean-
lied or reformed" We had Travelled bv
train to Grenoble. where a diligence was
waiting to take passengers along fifteen
miles Of the road. But no, The old nil
grim feeling was upon us and dusty as
the road looked. We decided to do the
twenty or thirty miles on foot The road
lay Tor the most part up valley. which
presented an ever-changing panorama OF
Wild and beautiful scenery AT Length va
entered the Gate Of the Desert bet vraer
Two immense rock cliffs. so close toay,.i her
that the suns rays never shine upon the
river rushing below. Carved upon the
rock nigh above our heads We could se. the
We.l-known symbol Of the Carthusiaus for
mere we entered their domains globe sur
mounted with cross. bearing the legend
The cross stands firm while the world
feVoiNes II was at this point thar St
Bruno penetrated into the solitude of the
desert Thanks to the labOre Of his fol-
lowers, who little by little during the CEN
turies overcame the difficulties of nature.
We found passable road, usually nothing
out broad !eoge quarried out of the side ,
OF an almost perpendicular rock
A parapet two or three feet high protaS-+-
ed us from the terrors of the precinfce,
except where il had been broken away by
the mighty rains and snow avalanches.
Here and ther" bridgcs-marvels OF en-
gineering construction. crossed the rayioe
wfile black shadows lay on the rocks and
trees on every side.
Lonely Road
In some places the road passed through
galleries cut and blasted through the pre-
cipitous rocks overhanging the river. which
was dashing. roaring and foaming hun
dreds Of feet below. We walked several
miles in these gloomy gorges without see
ing human being or any bird or beast: in
fact. it was getting quite dreary. melan-
choly evening, when a large cross appeared
on the roadside. and the sound of a bell
tolling was heard in the distance. We re-
doubled our efforts. and soon came in sight
of our goal-the monastery, with its vast
extent Of high walls. with its quaint roofs
and many towers rising up behind the walls
in strange fantastic confusion. nesting at
the foot of mighty pine-clad cliffs towering;
thousands of feet above the Home Of ST.
lence. The gray walls looked strong. solemn
and gloomy, yet who can tell how beautiful
how passing beautiful upon the noun
tains have they seemed to many a weary
souli We stood before the doorway. noble
yet simple. and rang the bell-that bell
which no traveller had ever rung in vain,
whatever his nation or his faith for. while
swords have been clashing and fires blazing
in the name of Christianity throughout the
plains below. its witness nearest heaven
has always been one of peace. Strange
feeling were experienced heard the
bell echoing in the corridors within.
Dining in Solitude.
dined alone in the Pavilion de France"
l. was somewhat lonely, there being only
one small light to illuminate a chamber
that wpnl1 fpv-ta
hundred. Outside are long, bare corridors,
lined with a vast number OF chambers.
now unusued. Years ago. when there were
between two and three hundred Carthusian
mcnasteries scattered all over Europe all
these rooms would be annually filled by the
pr1ors and their attendants; but changes
have taken place, and most of the religious
houses being suppressed or in ruins there
are few priors and monks left to attend
the solemn conference. At an early hour
/ asked TO be conducted to my chamber.
1t had been used by monks long years ago;
all that remains of them now is a nameless
grave The furniture however is appar-
entity the samoa plain cell, almost a tomh,
brfck-hoored and stone-vaulted; a bed two
feet wide, with thick wooden coverlets; "A
chair, a table, with basin and towel: and a
prse-dieu. The only ornament a rough
wooden crucifiX, no carpet no looking-glass
These, L suppose, are vanities.
Sleeping in Cell.
with the same material. two black blank
cts, an icy wind descending from the noun
tain. and a cell cold as tomb. are not
conducive to an easy or hasty journey to
the land of dreams. l fancied | had only
just fallen asleep when l was awakened by
the sonorOus clang Of the convent bell. 1t
was unearthly sound in the sun dark
ness of midnight. and in the gloomy depth
of this wooded gorge. Quickly dressing. L
went, candle in hand, down the long lone
ly corridors, looking for the door which A
brother had pointed out as the entrance
to the chapel gallery. This lies at the end
of huge vaulted hall, divided into parts
by a high rood screen Of carved oak with a
tall crucifiX, one of which is reserved for
the fathers, and the other for the Law
brothers. Beyond this screen the choir and
altar could be dimly seen by the light Of 4
solitary lamp burning before the sanctuary.
Leaning over the cold stone balustrade [
watched white-robed figures noiSelessly
glide in one by one. each carrying a little
lighted lamp, and looking very ghostly and
mysterious.
A solemn Service.
Then at the stroke Of II loud wild uni
son of many voices broke the solemn ST.
lence, singing the praises of the Most
High" In the dimly-ighted chapel from
those white fingers there rose up the strange,
solemn, chanted Psalm. In the hush of the
night one hears these solitaires-forgotten
by the World-praSlnS Tor the world inter-
ceding for men who al that moment OF the
dark night were forgetting God and truth,
goodness and purity. He can hear the
murmur of those solemn prayers which
have gone up night after night for many
centuries-prayers for the poor and wretch
ed, for the guilty and crime-laden, for the
dying and the dead, for the sad hearted
that they might hope again in God, for the
light hearted lest they might forget God.
Death, too, one feels has been powerless to
empty those dark stalls, where the white
monks have prayed for nearly 800 years.
The service lasts never less than two hours,
sometimes over three, and the monks say
their happiest time is when they are sing
ing and praying in the sanctuary I'm the
deep hush and awful shadows of the night.
Last Of the Quintains.