THE IRISH NUNS AT YPRES
AN EPISODE OF THE WAR
[Illustration: The Mother Prioress of Ypres.
The Lady Abbess of Oulton. The Lady Abbess of Ypres.
OULTON AND YPRES.]
THE IRISH NUNS
AT YPRES
AN EPISODE OF THE WAR
BY
D. M. C.
O.S.B. (MEMBER OF THE COMMUNITY)
EDITED BY
R. BARRY O’BRIEN, LL.D.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
JOHN REDMOND, M.P.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO.
15 WATERLOO PLACE
1915
[_All rights reserved._]
PREFACE
The following narrative was originally intended, as a record of the
events it relates, for the use of the Community only. But, shortly
after the arrival of the Mother Prioress in England, the manuscript was
placed in my hands. I soon formed the opinion that it deserved a larger
circulation. My friend Reginald Smith shared this view, and so the
story has come before the public.
It is in truth a human document of thrilling interest, and will, I
believe, make an abiding contribution to the history of this world-wide
war. D. M. C., though a novice in literary work, describes with
graphic force the transactions in which she and her Sisters played so
conspicuous and so courageous a part. The moving pictures, which pass
before our eyes in her pages, are full of touching realism, and throw
curious sidelights on the manifold aspects of the titanic struggle
which comes home to everyone and everything.
The heroism, the self-devotion, the religious faith, the Christian
zeal and charity of those Irish nuns at Ypres, in a terrible crisis in
the history of their Order, will, I venture to say, command universal
respect and admiration, mingled with pity for their fate, and an
earnest desire, among all generous souls, to help them in retrieving
their fortunes.
A Note by the Prioress, and an Introduction by Mr. Redmond, who, amid
his many onerous occupations, is not unmindful of the duty which
Irishmen owe to the historic little Community of Irish Nuns at Ypres,
form a foreword to a narrative which belongs to the history of the
times.
The illustration on the cover is a reproduction of the remnant (still
preserved in the Convent) of one of the flags captured by the Irish
Brigade at the battle of Ramillies. On this subject I have added a Note
in the text.
There are names in Belgium which revive memories that Irishmen cannot
forget. Fontenoy and Landen are household words. Ypres, too, brings
back recollections associated with deeds which mark the devotion of the
Irish people to Faith and Fatherland.
R. BARRY O’BRIEN.
100 SINCLAIR ROAD,
KENSINGTON, W.
_May 1915._
NOTE BY PRIORESS
These simple notes, destined at first for the intimacy of our Abbey, we
now publish through the intervention of Mr. Barry O’Brien to satisfy
the numerous demands of friends, who, owing to the horrors of the
fighting round Ypres, have shown great interest in our welfare.
Owing, also, to the numerous articles about us, appearing daily in the
newspapers--and which, to say the least, are often very exaggerated--I
have charged Dame M. Columban to give a detailed account of all that
has befallen the Community, since the coming of the Germans to Ypres
till our safe arrival at Oulton Abbey. I can therefore certify that all
that is in this little book, taken from the notes which several of the
nuns had kept, is perfectly true, and only a simple narrative of our
own personal experiences of the War.
May this account, to which Mr. Redmond has done us the honour of
writing an introduction at the request of Dame Teresa, his niece,
bring us some little help towards the rebuilding of our beloved and
historic monastery, which, this very year, should celebrate its 250th
anniversary.
M. MAURA, O.S.B.,
_Prioress_.
_April 1915._
INTRODUCTION
I have been asked to write an introduction to this book, but I feel
that I can add little to its intense dramatic interest.
Ypres has been one of the chief centres of the terrible struggle which
is now proceeding on the Continent, and it is well known that this same
old Flemish town has figured again and again in the bloody contests of
the past.
It may, perhaps, be well to explain, in a few words, how the tide of
war has once more rolled to this old-world city.
On Sunday, June 28, 1914, in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia, the
Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary and his wife, the Duchess
of Hohenberg, were assassinated. Although it was known throughout
Europe that there was in existence in Serbia an anti-Austrian
conspiracy (not of a very formidable character), and although
suspicion pointed towards the assassinations being due in some way to
the influence of this conspiracy, no one dreamt for a moment that the
tragedy which had occurred would have serious European consequences;
and, as a matter of fact, it was not until July 23 that the
Austro-Hungarian Government presented an ultimatum to Serbia. On that
day, however, a note of a most extraordinary and menacing character was
delivered to the Serbian Government by Austria-Hungary. It contained no
less than ten separate demands, including the suppression of newspapers
and literature; the disappearance of all nationalist societies; the
reorganisation of Government schools; wholesale dismissal of officers
from the army; and an extraordinary demand that Austro-Hungarian
officials should have a share in all judicial proceedings in Serbia;
besides the arrest of certain specified men, and the prevention of all
traffic in arms.
It at once became evident to the whole world that no nation could
possibly agree to these demands and maintain a semblance of national
independence; and, when it was found that the ultimatum required a
reply within forty-eight hours, it became clear that the whole of
Europe was on the brink of a volcano.
Great Britain, through Sir Edward Grey, had already urged Serbia
to show moderation and conciliation in her attitude towards
Austria-Hungary; and, when the ultimatum was submitted to her, Great
Britain and Russia both urged upon her the necessity of a moderate and
conciliatory answer.
As a matter of fact, Serbia agreed to every one of the demands in
the Austro-Hungarian ultimatum, with only two reservations, and on
these she proposed to submit the questions in dispute to The Hague.
Serbia received no reply from Austria-Hungary; and, immediately on the
expiration of the forty-eight hours, the Austro-Hungarian Minister
quitted Belgrade. During those forty-eight hours, Great Britain and
Russia had urged (1) that the time-limit for the ultimatum should be
extended, and that Germany should join in this demand; but Germany
refused. Sir Edward Grey then proposed (2) that Great Britain, France,
Germany, and Italy should act together, both in Austria-Hungary and in
Russia, in favour of peace. Italy agreed; France agreed; Russia agreed;
but Germany again held back. Sir Edward Grey then proposed (3) that
the German, Italian, and French Ambassadors should meet him in London.
Italy and France agreed; Russia raised no objection; but Germany
refused.
On July 29, the German Imperial Chancellor made to the British
Ambassador in Berlin the extraordinary and historic proposal that Great
Britain should remain neutral, provided that Germany undertook not to
invade Holland, and to content herself with seizing the colonies of
France, and further promised that, if Belgium remained passive and
allowed German troops to violate her neutrality by marching through
Belgium into France, no territory would be taken from her. The only
possible answer was returned by Great Britain in the rejection of what
Mr. Asquith called ‘an infamous proposal.’
On July 31, the British Government demanded from the German and French
Governments an undertaking, in accordance with treaty obligations, to
respect Belgium’s neutrality, and demanded from the Belgian Government
an undertaking to uphold it. France at once gave the necessary
undertaking, as did Belgium. Germany made no reply whatever, and from
that moment war was inevitable.
On Monday, August 3, the solemn treaty, guaranteeing the neutrality
of Belgium, signed by Germany as well as by France and Great Britain,
was treated as ‘a scrap of paper,’ to be thrown into the waste-paper
basket by Germany; Belgian territory was invaded by German troops;
and, on the next day, Tuesday, August 4, German troops attacked Liège.
From August 4 to August 15, Liège, under its heroic commander, General
Leman, barred the advance of the German armies, and, in all human
probability, saved Paris and France and the liberties of Europe.
On August 17, the Belgian Government withdrew from Brussels to Antwerp.
On August 20, Brussels was occupied by the Germans. On August 24,
Namur was stormed. On August 25, Louvain was destroyed, and, after
weeks of bloody warfare, after the retreat from Mons to the Marne, and
the victorious counter-attack which drove the Germans back across the
Aisne and to their present line of defence, Antwerp was occupied by the
Germans on the 9th of October. On October 11, what may be called the
battle of Ypres began in real earnest; but the town, defended by the
Allies, held heroically out; and by November 20, the utter failure of
the attempt of the Germans to break through towards Calais by the Ypres
route was acknowledged by everyone.
During the interval, Ypres was probably the centre of the most terrible
fighting in the War. This delightful old Flemish town, with its
magnificent cathedral and its unique Cloth Hall, probably the finest
specimen of Gothic architecture in Europe, was wantonly bombarded day
and night. The Germans have failed to capture the old city; but they
have laid it in ruins.
The following pages show the sufferings and heroism of the present
members of a little community of Irish nuns, which
‘The world forgetting, by the world forgot,’
has existed in Ypres since the days, some two hundred and fifty years
ago, when their Royal Abbey was first established. It is true that,
during those centuries, Ypres has more than once been subjected to
bombardment and attack, and, more than once, Les Dames Irlandaises of
the Royal Benedictine Abbey of Ypres have been subjected to suffering
and danger. But never before were they driven from their home and
shelter.
Why, it may be asked, is there a little community of Irish Benedictine
nuns at Ypres? During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, three English
ladies--Lady Percy, with Lady Montague, Lady Fortescue and
others--wishing to become Religious, and being unable to do so in their
own country, assembled at Brussels and founded an English House of the
ancient Order of St. Benedict. Their numbers increasing, they made
affiliations at Ghent, Dunkerque, and Pontoise.
In the year 1665, the Vicar-General of Ghent was made the Bishop of
Ypres, and he founded there a Benedictine Abbey, with the Lady Marina
Beaumont as its first Lady Abbess. In the year 1682, on the death of
the first Lady Abbess, Lady Flavia Cary was chosen as the first Irish
Lady Abbess of what was intended to be at that date, and what has
remained down to the present day, an Irish community. At that time, the
Irish had no other place for Religious in Flanders. A legal donation
and concession of the house of Ypres was made in favour of the Irish
nation, and was dedicated to the Immaculate Conception under the title
of ‘Gratia Dei.’ Irish nuns from other houses were sent to Ypres to
form the first Irish community. From that day to this, there have
been only two Lady Abbesses of Ypres who have not been Irish, and the
community has always been, so far as the vast majority of its members
are concerned, composed of Irish ladies.
Its history,[1] which has recently been published, contains the names
of the various Lady Abbesses. They are, practically, all Irish, with
the familiar names Butler, O’Bryan, Ryan, Mandeville, Dalton, Lynch,
and so on.
In 1687, James II of England desired the Lady Abbess of the day, Lady
Joseph Butler, to come over from Ypres to Dublin and to found an Abbey
there under the denomination of ‘His Majesty’s Chief Royal Abbey.’ In
1688, the Lady Abbess, accompanied by some others of the community
at Ypres, arrived in Dublin, and established the Abbey in Big Ship
Street, leaving the House at Ypres in the charge of other members of
the community. It is recorded that, when passing through London, she
was received by the Queen, at Whitehall, in the habit of her Order,
which had not been seen there since the Reformation. In Dublin, James
II received her, and granted her a Royal Patent, giving the community
‘house, rent, postage’ free, and an annuity of £100. This Royal Patent,
with the Great Seal of the Kingdom, was in the custody of the nuns at
Ypres when this War began. It was dated June 5, 1689.
When William III arrived in Dublin, in 1690, he gave permission to the
Lady Abbess, Lady Butler, to remain. But she and her nuns refused,
saying ‘they would not live under a usurper.’ William then gave her
a pass to Flanders, and this particular letter was also amongst the
treasures at Ypres when the War broke out.
Notwithstanding William’s free pass, the Irish Abbey in Dublin was
broken into and pillaged by the soldiery, and it was with difficulty
that the Sisters and the Lady Abbess made their way, after long and
perilous journeys, home to their House at Ypres. They brought with them
many relics from Dublin, including some old oak furniture, which was
used in the Abbey at Ypres up to the recent flight of the community.
And so the Irish Abbey at Ypres has held its ground, with varying
fortunes. In January, 1793, forty or fifty armed soldiers broke into
the Abbey; but the Lady Abbess of the day went to Tournai to seek aid
from the General-in-Chief, who was an Irishman. He withdrew the troops
from the Convent. The following year, however, Ypres was besieged by
the French; but, although the city was damaged, the Convent, almost
miraculously, escaped without injury.
An order for the suppression of Convents was issued in the very height
of the Revolution. The heroic Lady Abbess Lynch died. She was succeeded
by her sister, Dame Bernard Lynch, and the Community were ordered
to leave. They were, however, prevented from so doing by a violent
storm which broke over the town, and next day there was a change of
government, and the Irish Dames and the Irish Abbey were allowed to
remain, and, for several years the Irish Abbey was the only Convent of
any Order existing in the Low Countries.[2]
So it has remained on to the present day, from the year 1682 down to
1915, when, for the first time during that long period, this little
Irish community has been driven from Ypres and its Convent laid in
ruins.
Amongst the other relics and antiquities treasured by the Community at
Ypres, at the opening of this war, was the famous flag, so often spoken
of in song and story, captured by the Irish Brigade in the service of
France at the battle of Ramillies; a voluminous correspondence with
James II; a large border of lace worked by Mary Stuart; a large painted
portrait of James II, presented by him to the Abbey; a church vestment
made of gold horse-trappings of James II; another vestment made from
the dress of the Duchess Isabella, representing the King of Spain in
the Netherlands; and a number of other most valuable relics of the
past.
All these particulars can be verified by reference to the Rev. Dom
Patrick Nolan’s valuable history.
This little community is now in exile in England. Their Abbey and
beautiful church are in ruins. Some of their precious relics are
believed to be in places of safety. But most of their property has
been destroyed. They escaped, it is true, with their lives. But what
is their future to be? Surely Irishmen, to whom the subject especially
appeals, and English sympathisers who appreciate courage and fortitude,
will sincerely desire to help those devoted and heroic nuns to go
back to Ypres--the home of the Community for over two centuries--to
rebuild their Abbey and reopen their schools, to continue in their
honourable mission of charity and benevolence, and to resume that work
of education in which their Order has been so long and so successfully
engaged.
JOHN E. REDMOND.
_April 1915._
[1] _The Irish Dames of Ypres._ By the Rev. Dom Patrick Nolan, O.S.B.
[2] At the time of the Revolution, the nuns of Brussels and Dunkerque
(to which Pontoise had been united) and Ghent fled to England, and
these three Houses are now represented by Bergholt Abbey (Brussels),
Teignmouth (Dunkerque), and Oulton Abbey (Ghent).
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
PREFACE v
NOTE BY PRIORESS ix
INTRODUCTION xi
I. THE COMING OF THE GERMANS 1
II. THE ALLIES IN YPRES 14
III. INCIDENTS OF THE STRUGGLE 24
IV. IN THE CELLARS 47
V. THE BOMBARDMENT 70
VI. FLIGHT 92
VII. VISITING THE WOUNDED 107
VIII. AN ATTEMPT TO REVISIT YPRES 128
IX. PREPARING TO START FOR ENGLAND 137
X. A SECOND ATTEMPT TO REVISIT YPRES 143
XI. THE RETURN JOURNEY TO POPERINGHE 157
XII. ON THE WAY TO ENGLAND 171
XIII. OULTON 192
ILLUSTRATIONS
OULTON AND YPRES _Frontispiece_
_The Lady Abbess of Oulton, The Lady Abbess
of Ypres, The Mother Prioress of Ypres._
THE IRISH DAMES OF YPRES _To face p._ 48
_D. Patrick, D. Columban, D. Bernard, D.
Teresa, D. Walburge, D. Placid, Mother
Prioress, D. Aloysius._
THE MOTHER PRIORESS, DAME TERESA,
AND THE THREE NUNS WHO REVISITED
YPRES 144
THE IRISH NUNS AT YPRES
CHAPTER I
THE COMING OF THE GERMANS
The War, with all its horrors, into which the Emperor of Germany
plunged the world in August 1914, had been raging nearly six weeks,
when, towards the end of September, vague rumours of the enemy’s
approach reached us at Ypres. Several villages in the neighbourhood
had had visits from the dreaded Uhlans, and, according to report, more
than one prisoner had avowed that they were on their way to Ypres. An
aeroplane had even been sent from Ghent to survey the town, but had
lost its way. In these circumstances, the burgomaster sent round word
that from henceforward, until further orders, no strong lights should
be seen from the outside, and no bells should be rung from six in the
evening till the following day. Consequently, when night came on, the
Monastery remained in darkness, each nun contenting herself with the
minimum of light; and a few strokes of a little hand-bell summoned the
community to hours of regular observance, instead of the well-known
sound of the belfry-bell, which had, for so many years, fearlessly
made known each succeeding hour. Another result of the burgomaster’s
notice was that we were no longer able to say the office in the choir,
as on one side the windows looked on the street, and on the other to
the garden, the light being thus clearly visible from the ramparts.
We, therefore, said compline and matins, first in the work-room, and
afterwards in the chapter-house, placing a double set of curtains on
the windows to prevent the least little glimmer of light from being
seen from the outside.
An uneasy feeling of uncertainty took possession of the town. This
feeling increased as news reached us, in the first days of October,
that the enemy had been seen several times in the neighbourhood. At
length, on October 7--a never-to-be-forgotten day for all those then at
Ypres--a German aeroplane passed over the town, and shortly afterwards,
at about 1.30 P.M., everyone was startled by the sound of firing at no
great distance. In the Monastery, it was the spiritual-reading hour, so
we were not able to communicate our fears; but, instead of receding,
the sound came nearer, till, at 2 o’clock, the shots from the guns
literally made the house shake. Unable to surmise the cause of this
sudden invasion, we went our way, trying to reassure ourselves as best
we could. Shortly after vespers the sound of the little bell called
us all together, and Reverend Mother Prioress announced to us, to our
great dismay, that what we had feared had now taken place--the Germans
were in the town. Some poor persons, who came daily to the Abbey to
receive soup, had hastened to bring the dreadful tidings on hearing
the bell ring for vespers, because an order had been issued (of which
we were totally ignorant) that no bells might be rung, for fear of
exciting suspicion. The poor, often more unselfish and kind-hearted
than the rich, showed themselves truly so on this occasion, being more
anxious for our safety than their own--one poor woman offering her
little house as a shelter for Lady Abbess. She had only one penny for
all her fortune, but still she was sure that everything would be well
all the same; for, as she wisely remarked, the Germans were less likely
to think of pillaging her bare rooms than our splendid monastery.
The cannonading which we had heard at 1.30 was a gallant defence
made by 100 Belgian police, who had been obliged to retreat before
the 15,000 Germans, who, from 2 till 8 P.M., poured slowly into the
affrighted town, chanting a lugubrious war-song. M. Colaert, the
burgomaster, and the principal men were obliged to present themselves.
It was arranged that the town would be spared on the payment of 75,000
francs, and on condition that no further violence should be offered. M.
Colaert and another gentleman were kept as hostages.
We looked at one another in consternation. We might then, at any
moment, expect a visit, and what a visit! What if they were to come
to ask lodgings for the night? We dared not refuse them. What if they
ransacked the house?... Would they touch our beloved Lady Abbess, who,
owing to a stroke she had had two years before, remained now partially
paralysed?... We instinctively turned our steps to the choir. There,
Mother Prioress began the rosary and, with all the fervour of our
souls, an ardent cry mounted to the throne of the Mother of Mercy,
‘Pray for us now, and at the hour of our death.’ Was that hour about to
strike?... After the rosary, we recommended ourselves to the endless
bounty of the Sacred Heart, the Protector of our Monastery, ‘Cœur Sacré
de Jésus, j’ai confiance en Vous.’ And putting all our confidence in
the double protection of our Divine Spouse and His Immaculate Mother,
we awaited the issue of events.
Our old servant-man Edmund--an honest, a fearless, and a reliable
retainer, with certainly a comical side to his character--soon came
in with news. Prompted by a natural curiosity, he had gone out late
in the afternoon to see the troops; for the Germans, as in so many
other towns, made an immense parade on entering Ypres. For six long
hours they defiled in perfect order before the gazing multitude, who,
although terrified, could not repress their desire to see such an
unwonted spectacle. Following the army came huge guns, and cars of
ammunition and provisions without end. The troops proceeded to the post
office, where they demanded money from the safes. The Belgian officials
stated that, owing to the troubled times, no great sum was kept there,
and produced 200 francs (the rest having been previously hidden).
The railway station had also to suffer, the telegraph and telephone
wires being all cut; while four German soldiers, posted at the corners
of the public square, and relieved at regular intervals, armed with
loaded revolvers, struck terror into the unfortunate inhabitants of
Ypres. After some time, however, the most courageous ventured to open
conversation with the invaders--amongst the others Edmund, who, coming
across a soldier, more affable-looking than the rest, accosted him.
The German, only too glad to seize the opportunity, replied civilly
enough, and the two were soon in full conversation. ‘You seem to be
in great numbers here.’--‘Oh! this is nothing compared to the rest!
Germany is still full--we have millions waiting to come! We are sure
to win, the French are only cowards!’ ‘Where are you going to when you
leave Ypres?’--‘To Calais!’ ‘And then?’--‘To London!’ ‘Ha-ha-ha! You
won’t get there as easy as you think, they’ll never let you in!’--‘We
can always get there in our Zeppelins.’... With this the German turned
on his heel and tramped off.
It was now time to think of finding lodgings for the night. A great
number of horses were put in the waiting-rooms at the station,
destroying all the cushions and furniture. The soldiers demanded
shelter in whatever house they pleased, and no one dared refuse them
anything. Our Abbey, thanks to Divine Providence, of whose favour we
were to receive so many evident proofs during the next two months,
was spared from these unwelcome visitors--not one approached the
house, and we had nothing to complain of but the want of bread. Our
baker, being on the way to the convent with the loaves, was met by
some German soldiers, who immediately laid hands on his cart, and
emptied its contents. We therefore hastily made some soda-scones for
supper, which, though not of the best, were nevertheless palatable.
However, all did not escape so easily as we did, and many were the
tales told of that dreadful night. The most anxious of all were those
who were actually housing wounded Belgian soldiers! If they were
discovered, would the brave fellows not be killed there and then? And
it happened, in more than one case, that they escaped by the merest
chance. Before the convent of exiled French nuns, Rue de Lille, whom
we were afterwards to meet at our stay at Poperinghe, and where at
that moment numbers of Belgians were hidden, a German stopped a lady,
who was luckily a great friend of the nuns, and asked if there were
any wounded there. ‘That is not a hospital,’ she replied, ‘but only
a school’; and with a tone of assurance she added, ‘If you do not
believe me, you can go and see for yourself.’ The soldier answered, ‘I
believe you,’ and passed on. In another case, the Germans entered a
house where the Belgians were, and passed the night in the room just
underneath them! A jeweller’s shop was broken into, and the property
destroyed or stolen; and in a private dwelling, the lady of the house,
finding herself alone with four officers--her husband having been
taken as hostage--she took to flight, on which the Germans went all
through the place, doing considerable damage. In other cases, they
behaved pretty civilly. Our washerwoman had thirty to breakfast, of
whom several had slept in her establishment, leading their horses
into her drawing-room! On seeing her little boys, they had exclaimed,
‘Here are some brave little soldiers for us, later on!’ And, on the
mother venturing a mild expostulation, they added, ‘Yes, you are all
Germans now--Belgo-Germans’; while, before leaving, they wrote on
her board--‘We are Germans; we fear no one; we fear only God and our
Emperor!’ What troubled her the most was that her unwelcome guests had
laid hold of her clean washing, taking all that they wanted; amongst
other things, our towels had disappeared. We were, as may well be
imagined, but too pleased to be rid of the dread Germans at so little
cost.
It appears that while the German army was still in Ypres, some 12,000
British soldiers, having followed on its track, stopped at a little
distance from the town, sending word to the burgomaster that, if he
wished, they were ready to attack the enemy. M. Colaert, however, not
desiring to see the town given up to pillage and destruction, was
opposed to a British advance.
By this time the whole town was on the _qui vive_, and no one thought
of anything else but how best to secure any valuables that they had;
for the stories of what had happened in other parts of Belgium were not
at all reassuring. Several tried to leave the town; but the few trains
that were running were kept exclusively for the troops, while the
Germans sent back all those who left on foot. To increase the panic,
no less than five aeroplanes passed during the day; and the knowledge
that the enemy had left soldiers with two mitrailleuses at the Porte
de Lille, to guard the town, completed the feeling of insecurity.
Moreover--as the soldiers had literally emptied the town of all the
eatables they could lay their hands on--sinister rumours of famine were
soon spread abroad. Reverend Mother Prioress sent out immediately for
some sacks of flour, but none was to be got; and we were obliged to
content ourselves with wheatmeal instead. Rice, coffee, and butter we
had, together with some tins of fish. The potatoes were to come that
very day, and great was our anxiety lest the cart would be met by the
Germans and the contents seized. However, the farmer put off coming for
some days, and at length arrived safely with the load, a boy going in
front to see that no soldiers were about. The milk-woman, whose farm
was a little way outside the town, was unable to come in, and no meat
could be got for love or money; so we were obliged to make the best of
what we had, and each day Mother Prioress went to the kitchen herself
to see if she could not possibly make a new dish from the never varying
meal--rice, Quaker oats, and maizena.
Ultimately the Allies came to our help, and a motor-car, armed with a
mitrailleuse, flew through the streets and opened fire on the Germans.
Taken by surprise, the latter ran to their guns; but, through some
mishap, the naphtha took fire in one of them, whereupon the Germans
retreated. Three of their men were wounded, and one civilian killed.
On the Friday, we began to breathe freely again, when suddenly news
came, even to the Abbey, that one hundred Germans were parading round
the town. On Sunday, the Allies came once more to chase them; but, for
the moment, the Germans had disappeared. Things continued thus for some
days, until, to the delight of the inhabitants, the British took entire
possession of the town, promising that the Germans would never enter it
again. Just one week after the coming of the Germans, the troops of the
Allies poured in, until, amid the enthusiastic cheers of the people,
21,000 soldiers filled the streets. Those who came by the monastery
passed down the Rue St. Jacques singing lustily:
‘Here we are, here we are, here we are again:
Here we are, here we are, here we are again!’
Then alternately each side repeated: ‘Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!’
The crowd, whose knowledge of the English language did not extend far
enough to enable them to grasp the meaning of ‘Here we are again’ soon,
however, caught up the chorus of ‘Hallo! Hallo!’ and quickly the street
resounded with cries, which were certainly discordant, but which,
nevertheless, expressed the enthusiastic joy of the people.