_THE VOW OF POVERTY._
I purpose now to write a short chapter on the Vow of Poverty. By this
vow a nun has stripped herself of everything; she no longer possesses
the right to use anything, or any member of her body, without the
permission of her superior. Body and soul, hands, eyes, and feet, are
all given up; therefore the nun may not use her hands or her feet even
to perform a kind and helpful action for her fellow-nuns, without first
going to ask the leave of her Superior. Often, especially at first, I
did not understand my obligation, and consequently I would act without
permission, and bring upon myself the necessity of performing some
penance, that my sin might thus be atoned for. A nun may be almost
parched with thirst, yet she must not drink even a cup of cold water
without first finding the Superior and asking her leave, and even then
she may not obtain it; and if leave is granted, she may be censured for
her alleged want of mortification. The nun who has taken this vow of
poverty must never possess or make use of anything which has not been
either given or lent to her by the Superior, neither can she borrow or
lend anything without leave. This kind of existence really engendered the
most abominable selfishness, and I never saw any selfishness to equal a
nun’s. Her vow of poverty makes her selfish. She has nothing but what
is doled out scantily by her Superior; and when she does get anything,
she takes good care to keep it, not knowing when she will receive the
like again. This does not apply to anything great and valuable, but
such trifles as pins and needles, or cotton, or a piece of paper, or a
flower-pot. To give or lend a flower, a picture, a thimble, a needle, a
book, or anything else, without leave, is to break the Vow of Poverty,
for which confession must be made, and reparation by public penance.
Anything sent by the parents or relations of the nuns may be disposed of
as the Superior likes; and should it be given to another nun, we were
told, “Let the sister for whom that gift was sent beware of murmuring at
her Superior’s wisdom.” Often did I have presents taken from me, without
form or ceremony, and given to another, my face being carefully watched
whilst the transfer was being made, to see how I bore the trial, or if I
betrayed any signs of criticising the actions of my Superior.[5]
I remember that once a dear little child was brought into our community;
and being very fond of children, and thinking of my brothers, I held out
my arms to the child, and was on the point of kissing him, when I heard
the authoritative voice of the rev. Father, saying, “Sister Agnes, sit
down. Not without leave; you should ask first.” I coloured as if accused
of some great crime, and sat down, but was too ashamed when recreation
time came to ask to kiss him then. I had only been a novice for a few
months, and did not think of my vow of poverty being broken by using my
arms, or lips, or will, without leave.
Another time—it was at Christmas—I saved a mince-pie to give away to the
first poor person who came to the door. I was portress then. An old man
came, and I related at recreation how pleased he was with my gift; but,
alas! I brought down upon myself a little lecture, and was told that
I had no right to give convent property away. “But,” said I, “it was
mine—my very own.” Whereupon I learnt that for me the words “mine” and
“thine” did not exist, since by this vow of poverty everything belonged
to the Father Superior.
We might not even borrow a pocket-handkerchief, though, as we were
allowed but three, it was often very necessary to borrow one, for we
could not without permission even wash them without breaking rule. If
a sister brought with her several dozens, they would be distributed
according to the needs of the community, and the rest put away for future
use, as the new novice would be breaking her vow by retaining more than
she needed for present use.
We were very fortunate in being allowed pocket-handkerchiefs at all. I
know another English sisterhood where the nuns are only allowed hard
blue-checked dusters, and as the rev. Father and Mother and sisters have
the disgusting habit of snuff-taking, they must find these dusters very
inconvenient.
Should we use any other article in lieu of a pocket-handkerchief, it must
be confessed, and reparation made by holding such article up high at the
Magnificat, in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, so that all who
were assembled might see that we had robbed God of what we had promised.
Again, if we broke any article, or put it to an improper use, the
penance consisted in placing the said article, or piece of it, upon the
head. Unfortunately for me, I was famous for breaking machine needles,
and consequently I had to balance them on the top of my head, which was
no easy matter.
Again, should we carelessly leave anything out of its proper place, we
had to wear that thing the whole of the day. On two or three occasions
I have been adorned with a pail; I have had a brush and dustpan round
my waist, and a large coil of clothes-line round my neck. I hope my
readers will now understand a little better what is implied by the vow of
poverty. This has been a short chapter, but not, I think, an unimportant
one.