MY NOVITIATE LIFE
My last two confessions, in preparation to entering the convent were
made to "Father" Ceserri. When I had finished the last one, and he was
expounding and explaining my admirable choice of sisterhood life, he
raised his right hand while pronouncing the words, "I absolve thee,
etc." and then he put his arm around my neck and very "fatherly" kissed
me. In the midst of my sanctifying confusion I did not know whether it
was the Holy Ghost, or if it was meant in brotherly love. But, I quieted
my mind with the happy thought that as the priest was Christ in the
confessional, it must have been Him who had kissed me, and I believed
myself highly favored by this mark of His love.
This same priest, "Father" Ceserri, took me from my home, which was in
the Palouse country in the eastern part of Washington, to Walla Walla,
which was two days' travel by stage, and a few hours on the railroad. At
the end of the two days' stage travel, we were in Dayton, Washington. It
had been very warm and dusty all day. The clerk of the hotel showed us
to a large room prepared for two. "Father" Ceserri, in a laughing,
jolly, good-natured manner, remarked that the clerk took us for man and
wife. The priest left the room while I was dusting and arranging myself.
When he returned, he had a couple of bottles of porter, he called it,
and two big goblets. He opened the porter and filled the goblets, handed
one to me and kept the other himself. I would not take it, telling him
that I never took liquor. He pleaded that I should drink it as it would
do me good after the tiresome travel of the day. He could not prevail
upon me to take it, so he left the room again, returning soon with some
beer, saying that this was milder and insisted that I take it. I refused
as before. He told me that if I wanted to be a sister that I had to
learn to obey, as sisters made vows of obedience. So I consented to
taste it in obedience to him. He was then satisfied, as I had obeyed.
The next day we went to Walla Walla, where I remained about a month with
the Sisters of Charity, who took me to Vancouver, Washington, where I
entered the convent.
It was understood between the priest and my mother, before I left home,
that I would have a year's schooling before entering the Sisterhood.
This promise had also been made to me by the Reverend Mother John of the
Cross.
On the day set by the sisters, July 30th, 1881, I was notified that I
was to be received into the novitiate that evening. I reminded the
reverend mother of her promise to me in regard to school, and she told
me that she had not forgotten it, that the two years' novitiate was all
schooling. I believed her, and, as I had already had a few lessons in
obedience, I thought it best for me to do as she directed. I had learned
that the reverend mother superior was the same over us in the convent as
the priest in the confessional and church. So I yielded in all
confidence to her for my future interests.
[Illustration: _Elizabeth Schoffen, One Month Before Leaving Home for
the Convent._]
On entering the novitiate, I was given a formula, which I said kneeling,
as follows: "Reverend Mother, I beg to enter this holy house, and will
submit to all the trials to prove myself worthy to become a servant of
the poor, and pray for perseverance." I was then led into a large,
barn-like hall or room, with a long, sort-of-workshop table in the
center, and a number of plain chairs--this was all the furniture. There
were a few holy pictures on the wall which broke the awful bareness. The
frames were black, coffin-like strips of wood, very forcibly impressing
the idea of death on my mind.
I was then led to a graded oratory where there were various statues and
lighted candles, before which I knelt, ahead of the novices and the
Mistress of Novices, and prayed: "Veni, Creator Spiritus," meaning,
"Come, O Holy Ghost," and the Litany of the Saints. With this
introductory ceremony over, the Mistress came to me with a large pair of
scissors and cut off my beautiful, golden-brown hair, my only beauty.
This was the first "mark of the beast," the first preparatory act for
Rome's "holy" institution.
I was then a "postulant" which means on probation. The postulant period
generally is six months. During that time the sisters decide whether or
not the candidate has a religious calling--that is, to find out more
intimately her character, disposition, temperament, inclinations,
disinclinations--to see if she has the bodily fitness and soul
requirements to be permitted the next step of advancement in this "holy"
calling.
I was told by the mistress that the closing of the door of that "holy"
house was a complete separation of myself from the sinful world. That if
I wanted to be a spouse of Christ and a good sister, I had to
absolutely forget everything outside the convent, even to my own parents
and relations. "He that is not willing to leave father and mother for my
sake is not worthy of me." The one important obligation that was
repeatedly impressed upon my mind was that I had entered the convent to
become a religious to save my soul. The quotation, "Let the dead bury
their dead," was translated literally to me, and I was not to worry
about any one outside the four walls that enclosed me.
As a postulant, I was to learn the fundamental virtues of the community
of the Sisters of Charity--Humility, Simplicity and Charity. For the
acquisition of these virtues I had to learn to diminish in my own
estimation; be glad whenever I was given an opportunity to abase, to
renounce or to mortify myself. By the interior and exterior practice of
these virtues I had to prove myself. By true humility of heart, I had to
bear all things and refuse the soul its desires. The poor and humble in
spirit pass their life in abundance of peace, I was taught.
One of the first humiliating experiences I had, to illustrate the above
teaching, was one Sunday evening soon after I entered. The sister who
was to relieve me in the department I was working in, had failed to
report and I had not had any supper. The next exercise was benediction
in the church and I could not absent myself from this without being
dispensed by my superior, and then for only very grave reasons. I went
to the novitiate room about eight o'clock, and the mistress of novices
rebuked me severely for not being in rank with the novices. I told her
that I had not had any supper yet, as the sister officer had failed to
replace me in time. I had broken a rule by being absent from supper
without permission, so I went on my knees and asked a penance. The
mistress told me that I could go to the pantry and get some eatables and
take them up to the novitiate room and eat my supper before the novices.
She also informed me that I had done wrong for blaming a professed
sister for the breach of the rule.
This seems like a very childish occurrence, and so it was. But it was
humiliating for me to sit before a number of novices eating a cold
supper, and Rome had made her point by demanding from one of her dupes,
and the dupe responded.
Almost from the first day I entered, I had to learn Latin prayers. This
was probably the education I was promised. It would have been alright
had I been taught Latin so it would have been of some benefit to me. But
these prayers were taught me in a sort of parrot-like manner, the
mistress of novices telling me how to pronounce the words in Latin, and
I knew what they meant in English, having learned the prayers
previously. If I were to see the same words written, explaining
something I had not previously memorized, I would not be able to read or
understand the meaning of them. I learned prayers in French in the same
manner.
I will give you an example of a Latin prayer. This is the Angelical
Salutation, or Hail! Mary:
Ave, Maria, gratia plena; Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et
benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus.
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora
mortis nostrae. Amen.
Quite often during my postulant period, while I was learning these Latin
prayers, I would have to do sewing. This was a beginning of the vow of
poverty, which I hoped to take in the near future--learning to be a
religious, and at the same time working my hands for the Roman Catholic
system.
The candidate is assigned her work by the mistress of novices and goes
through a test to see in what way she can become useful in the service
of God as a Sister of Charity. It is a case of getting all the work
possible out of the girls from the very start, for these so-called
"holy" institutions.
My two years' novitiate training was served in the boys' department of
the Orphanage of the Sisters of Charity at Vancouver, Washington. There
was an average of about seventy boys in this institution, ranging in age
from three to fourteen years. Two sisters had all the care of these
children, except the cooking of the food. And, oh, the care these poor
children received. They were physically and mentally weak from having
been underfed and poorly cared for, and being taught by two sisters who
had a parochial school education such as I had.
One of my duties was to awaken these poor, little waif children for Mass
at five thirty in the morning. If, on arising, I found that any of them
had failed to get up during the night to attend to nature's call, it was
my duty to whip them with a substantial leather strap, which was
provided for that purpose. If some of the larger boys needed this
persuasive remedy for their ills, they would be taken to the attic,
stripped, and some sister would be there to administer the medicine in
prolific doses. With this kind of treatment, it was no wonder that we
had to be continually on our guard to keep them from running away. I
have known as many as six at one time to run away for two or three days,
and sometimes some of them would not come back at all.
On the twenty-fourth day of February, 1882, I was admitted to the "holy
habit," in most orders called the taking of the "white veil," the next
step to my "religious perfection."
I was now a "novice" and I must present myself every two weeks to the
mistress of novices, and in order that she may direct my soul in the
spiritual life, I must kneel to her in private and make what is called
"manifestation of conscience." That is, to lay bare my heart and mind in
everything I can possibly think of, excepting grave sins. If the
mistress, who is a cunning director, has any dislike for any of the
novices, this exercise is very cruel, for these "saintly" nuns know
better than any one on earth how to cunningly torture those in their
power--the system forcing them to it.
Every week I had to go to the priest for confession, whether I had
anything to confess or not. Very often I had to search my heart and mind
to find something to tell this "Christ" in the confessional.
Soon after I became a "novice," we were called to the novitiate for
spiritual instruction. "Father" Louis de G. Schram was the chaplain. An
orphan boy had been taken out of the orphanage on account of one of the
younger sisters having talked a little too much. "Father" Schram said,
"Now, sisters, always tell the truth, but to tell the truth you do not
have to tell everything you know. Suppose, Sister O'Brien, if somebody
would come and ask you, 'Is Johnny Morgan here?' you would not have to
say 'Yes, Johnny Morgan is here.' You place one hand in the sleeve of
the other hand, and you say, 'No, Johnny Morgan is not here,' and you
will mean that Johnny Morgan is not up your sleeve."
This story was given as a spiritual instruction, but it very truly
represents the system I lived for thirty-one years--deception, from
beginning to finish. With teachings of this nature constantly before us,
it was a case of lying, stealing, thieving and "swipping" among
ourselves, from morning till night, to make life a little more
comfortable for ourselves.
A novice is not allowed to talk in general conversation with a professed
sister during her novitiate period, with the exception of the mistress
of novices and the mother superior. These two sisters, and the priest,
are the only confidents we have, as we are taught to talk among
ourselves on religious subjects only, and if we hear another novice
talking in any other subject or breaking any other rule, it is our duty
by rule and conscience to report her to the mistress of novices. We are
told that we are all "monitors," which means, carry the reports to the
mistress of novices.
This practice destroys confidence and causes us to regard one another
with suspicion, the result of which is distrust and hatred, and a
general spy system. This is one of the most devilish practices taught in
this part of a sister's life, one that stays with her throughout her
whole sisterhood. Tattling, accusing, charging one another with the most
trivial, cruel, and very often wicked acts. Many times the sister
accused is innocent of any wrong doing, but there is nearly always a
penance imposed upon her, and if she is not in the good grace of the
mother superior, the penance is often very severe.
[Illustration: _"Father" Louis de G. Schram_ (Johnny Morgan Story)]
From the first day we enter, we are not allowed to send or receive mail,
without it first being censored. This is another manner Rome has of
keeping the girls in the convent after they are once there. The practice
of censorship of mail is absolutely against the postal laws of the
country, but it is done in the convents every day. Why should the postal
authorities permit the continuous disregard for the laws? Are the
sisters in the convents American citizens and under the protection of
the laws of the country, or are they not American citizens? If _you_
would open mail belonging to some other person, unless you could give a
very good reason for so doing, you would find yourself in the clutches
of the law, and would have to account to the Federal government. But you
never hear of a superior of a convent being held for opening another
sister's mail. Why this discrimination? Is it not breaking the law in
one instance the same as the other?
While I was in the novitiate, a letter that I had written to my parents,
was returned to me by the mistress of novices, with the instruction that
I rewrite it and leave certain parts out, as it would cause my people to
think that I was not happy. Yes, dear reader, that is it exactly. It did
not make any difference how I felt, whether I was happy or not, the fact
was that I was in the convent, seemingly, for better or worse. It was
the impression I left on the outer world that Rome was most interested
in.
The fact of the matter is, that I was not happy and wished to leave, but
did not know what to do or where to go. I knew that I would not be
welcomed in my own home or among Roman Catholics, and with the bringing
up I had received and under the influence of this religious training, I
believed it impossible to be saved among Protestants. Several times I
made mention of my unhappiness to the Master of Novices in the
confessional. He implored me to be faithful and God would reward me, and
if I was not faithful there was small chance of saving my soul.
Nearly always after telling the Master of Novices of the unhappiness in
the convent, he would, at the next "spiritual" instruction, give us a
long talk about girls who had lost their vocation by leaving the
convent, and that they nearly all came to a bad end.
My dear reader, you can readily understand why more of these poor,
deluded sisters do not leave these institutions, when, from the very
beginning these principles are ground in their very hearts and minds
until they become as one bound, tied and gagged.