At last it was time to go on board the boat. The ambulance cars took us quite close to the gangway. When we had all got down with our parcels, the soldiers lifted the stretcher on which Lady Abbess was lying, and gently carried her on board and into the cabin, where we helped her on to a sofa. Lieutenant Treillard superintended everything, and good Father Flynn made fun all the time. The latter then gave special injunctions to Reverend Mother about the papers, &c., and giving us his blessing, with a special one to Lady Abbess, having in his turn begged hers, with all possible wishes for a safe arrival at our destination, he hurried off the boat, which was preparing to leave. The passage was very calm, but cold and frosty. For more than one of us it was the first crossing, Lady Abbess having up to this time never even seen the sea; and, sad to say, nearly all proved ‘bad sailors’ except, curiously enough, Lady Abbess. Happily, however, the passage only lasted 1 hr. 20 min., so we were soon at Folkestone. Thanks to our papers from British and French Headquarters, we were passed successfully by the doctor and other officials (who stopped two Belgian peasants following us ashore)—even Edmund got through without the least difficulty. Arrived in the station, a telegram was sent to a relative of one of the community in London, who kindly looked out lodgings for us in advance. It seemed an interminable time before the train set off, and afterwards, rushing through the darkness, passing station after station, town after town, we thought London would never come. However, all things come to an end, and so did our journey, as at last we steamed into Victoria Station. There, one would have said we were expected, we were so kindly received by the ladies on the platform, who helped us out and pressed us to take something. On hearing where we had come from, and how we had succeeded in getting honoured Lady Abbess safe through so many difficulties, everyone was more than interested; and soon porters were running in all directions to get cabs to convey us to our destination which was in quite another part of London. A bath-chair was brought for Lady Abbess who was wheeled out of the station, Mother Prioress holding her hand. One of the ladies, seeing the impossibility of getting her into a cab, fetched a private motor-car. The gentleman who owned it, helped by a soldier, lifted Lady Abbess gently in. Then they drove to the hospital of SS. John and Elizabeth, whither it was thought better for the present to take Lady Abbess. The soldier, overcome by the sight of our dear Abbess’ patience, took her in his arms—exclaiming, when he came downstairs, ‘I could not help it, she is such a dear good old lady.’ Dame Patrick’s aunt (Mrs. Adamson) had arranged everything for us, and so Dame Patrick, with Mother Prioress and Dame Columban, were cordially received at her house. Lady Abbess remained at the hospital of SS. John and Elizabeth, where, indeed, she received every attention, together with seven other members of the community. Dame Teresa, Dame Aloysius, and Dame Walburge experienced the same charity at the Sisters of Hope. Edmund was also taken in at Mrs. Adamson’s. Those at the hospital and the Sisters of Hope heard Mass there next morning; and Mother Prioress, Dame Columban, and Dame Patrick walked as far as the Dominicans at Haverstock Hill. We may here note the loving goodness of Divine Providence, which had not once allowed us to miss Mass or Holy Communion in spite of all the dangers and fatigues of the past weeks. We were truly like the Israelites in the desert, for whom the manna never failed.
CHAPTER XIII
OULTON
Next morning we were all motored from our different lodgings to Euston Station, where we were met by Mr. Nolan, brother of Rev. Dom Nolan, O.S.B., and at 10.30 we entered on the last stage of our never-to-be-forgotten journey. We had three reserved compartments at our disposal, by the kind intervention of a gentleman at Victoria Station, who had given a signed card to Mother Prioress, telling her to show it to anyone who should question her. And so we travelled safely from Ypres to Oulton. How strange it seemed, for more than one of us, to pass by those scenes which we had thought never more to see in this life! We had left our country, home, and all, to shut ourselves up in the peaceful solitude of Ypres Abbey; and here we were, forced to retrace our steps and to return temporarily to the world which we had willingly given up. God was, however, preparing us another place of refuge from the turmoil of Babylon, into which we had suddenly been thrown.
After changing trains at Stafford, where Lady Abbess experienced the same considerate compassion which had been shown to her all along, we arrived at Stone Station. There we were met by some of the pupils of Oulton Abbey, who told us how everyone was expecting us, and how they had tried during the past weeks to obtain news of us, but always unsuccessfully. Two Dominican nuns from the Stone Convent next came forward to greet us, one being an old Princethorpian school-companion of Dame Columban and Dame Teresa.
The carriages awaiting us were soon full, and as there was not room for all, four of us offered to walk. We lost nothing by this; for passing by Stone, the two Dominican nuns who had so kindly come to the station to meet us, obtained permission for us to visit their convent. We went all round the church (the community were singing vespers in their choir) and then through the cloisters, which reminded us of the dear Abbey we had left behind. We saw the community room and several others, and lastly found ourselves in the parlour, where we awaited the honoured visit of Reverend Mother Prioress. We passed an agreeable time, till the sound of carriage wheels told us that one of the vehicles which had already been up to Oulton had returned to fetch us.
Our honoured Lady Abbess and the community were received with open arms at St. Mary’s Abbey. It was with true motherly affection that Lady Laurentia opened the doors of her Monastery to receive the Ypres community. The two communities—Oulton and Ypres—have always been closely united, and one of the first thoughts of the Oulton nuns, on the outbreak of this dreadful war in Belgium, was for the Abbey at Ypres. As early as September 17 the Lady Abbess had written and offered us a home, in case we had to leave our Monastery; but for some weeks we had refused to believe that this would ever happen.
When we arrived we found the Lady Abbess and community assembled to receive us, and also the chaplain, Monsignor Schobel, who was no stranger, as he had often visited us at Ypres when staying with his friends at Bruges. We were very pleased to see him again.
By degrees we learned the trouble we had unwittingly caused the nuns; for a letter which Mother Prioress had written five days before, from Poperinghe, to announce our arrival had only come that morning, and the telegram from London had followed almost immediately. Everyone had been obliged to set to work to prepare for our accommodation. Two large rooms were placed at Lady Abbess’ service. There were only two cells free, so one was allotted to Mother Prioress, and the other to Dame Placid. The rest of the choir dames were comfortably established in a dormitory of the new building only completed since the month of October. The lay-sisters found beds in another large room, and so our wanderings came to an end.
No one save those who have suffered as we have suffered can realise the joy which we experienced in finding ourselves once more in the calm and quiet of monastic life, where Holy Mass and Communion, the singing of the Divine Office, meditation and spiritual reading, succeeding the varied duties of the day, tend to soften the memories of the scenes of bloodshed and wretchedness which can never be forgotten.
Yet the echoes of this war of horrors reach us, even in our haven of rest. As I write, news reaches us from our chaplain (Monsieur de Seagher, Principal du Collège Episcopal, Ypres) who has returned to Ypres to find his college entirely pillaged and almost in ruins. He says that a third of the population has already re-entered the town; all are in dismay at the heart-rending sight which meets their gaze. As to our convent, he writes: ‘The state of your Abbey is also deplorable. The shells have made great havoc there. The French soldiers occupy it at present. In several places the water is rising in the cellars. God alone knows what we shall still see, for the bombardment is not yet finished.’