He said he would try and express himself in terms of harmony.
"Perhaps Mrs X. has a great sense of harmony herself," he said. "If she
married Y. that would make a legitimate harmony certainly. But her very
feeling for the _full_ harmony of life would make it impossible" (and he
said this with startling emphasis) "_for her to use X.'s death as a
means for doing rightly what she had meant to do wrongly_, for her
intention to do it wrongly had in a measure caused his death. Within
the harmony of her marriage the memory of that discord would always be
present. And perhaps she is a woman who is able to have a vision of
perfect love and harmony. In that case she could not put up with an
imperfect one. She is now free to enter upon a perfect harmony and love,
by marrying Christ, which I imagine she always wanted to do, even in
the normal married state, in fact by means of the normal married state,
for it is a Sacrament and unites the soul to God by Grace.
"But I understand from you that her marriage was such a travesty of
marriage that she felt she couldn't worship Christ through that, and so
swung across and decided she couldn't be in relation with Him at all.
Then comes this catastrophe and the pendulum swings back and stops up.
"There is nothing selfish about this. For all we know it was the will of
God that all this should happen (the shipwreck of her marriage, Y.'s
love and present misery) solely to make her vocation certain, and as far
as Y. is concerned we don't know the end. Even from the worldly point of
view we don't know whether his marriage with Mrs X. would have made for
his ultimate happiness or for hers. His present unhappiness may be an
essential note in the full and total harmony of _his_ life. It may be a
beginning and not an end. It may lead him to some eventual happiness, it
may be welding his nature and his life for some undreamed-of purpose, a
purpose which he may afterwards be led to recognise and bless 'with
tears of recognition.' If Mrs X. is certain of her vocation, and
continues to be certain of it, you can be sure she is right, and that
whatever the world says it will be wrong.
"The only way in which peace comes to the human soul is in accepting the
will of God, 'In la sua volontate e nostra pace.'
"Mrs X. knows that, and perhaps Y. is on the road to learning it. I
daresay Mrs X. may have an element of fear of life _too_, but it will
thin out and float off and away from her; her act in choosing the
religious life will not be an escape nor a _flight_, but a positive
acceptance of the love of Christ. She is getting to and at the
mysterious spiritual thing which is in music, and which is as different
from sounds as sounds are different from printed notes. It is you
musicians who know."
I said that although I did not pretend to understand the whole thing,
and the whole nature of the motive, I could understand that it could be
as he said, and I thanked him, telling him that I for one should never
cavil at her act nor criticise it, but always understand that there was
something to understand, although probably it would always be beyond my
understanding.
I felt during all this conversation that the real problem was not why
she had become a nun, but what terrible thing had happened inside her
mind to make her take that step at Christmas, and decide on what seemed
to contradict all her life so far.
I said something about religion not affecting conduct in a crisis.
Father Stanway seemed to read my thoughts. He said: "After a long stress
sometimes a tiny accident will suffice to make a nerve snap _suddenly_.
I should say that in this case long stress had pushed and pushed a soul
out of its real shape and pattern; an unknown factor sufficed to force
it into a coherent but false pattern; a new shock sufficed to liberate
it wholly and let it fall back into its original _true_ pattern. That
may account for half of it."
_Wednesday, March_ 7_th._
I dined alone with Cunninghame last night, and told him what I had
ascertained respecting the rules for the period of probation of nuns. He
appeared to be relieved. I warned him that Mrs Housman's step might very
well prove to be irrevocable, as I didn't think she was a person to
change her mind easily. He said: "That's what I am afraid of. They never
do let people go. I feel that once in a convent they will never let her
go. But it will be a relief to A. to know that the step is not yet
irrevocable."
_Letters from Guy Cunninghame to Mrs Caryl_
LONDON,
_Wednesday, March_ 7_th_.