“But Saint Amulfia lived in the seventeenth century! Surely everything has changed since then?” protested Irene weakly.
“Not in convents!” replied Gzhatski with emphasis. “Nothing can ever change where the very fundamental conditions are abnormal. Human beings were created to live in the world, to work together, to be happy together, and thankfully to accept and enjoy all that life can give. Only in complying with these conditions can they retain their moral and mental equilibrium. The moment they leave the world and become possessed by some monomania, such as the saving of their own souls, they are unbalanced, and there soon follow all the hallucinations, visions, temptations of the devil, and what not, so common in convents. Convents are now being closed in France, not, as is popularly supposed, through the influence of Freemasons, but by science and enlightenment, two forces that always hold high their torch in France, and always have the last word. No one doubts that in their time convents were of great use to humanity. With the exception of the comparatively rare cases in which inexperienced souls were forcibly or artificially lured into taking the veil and so ruining their healthy, normal natures, most of the people who became nuns were such as felt the renunciation of normal life to be their vocation, in other words, entirely unbalanced characters. Convents, therefore, rendered an enormous service to society by imprisoning within their walls erotic and hysterical women, and all sorts of maniacs, whose presence in the world might have been highly detrimental to their fellows. Whenever some sort of power fell accidentally into their hands, they managed to do harm even after having renounced life. One need only take the one great instance of the Spanish Inquisition, and of all the subtle refinement of torture in which, during its sway, the cruel voluptuousness of these diseased natures found its outlet.
“Science tells us that rest and silence and a regular life, free from all disquieting influences, work wonders for sufferers from nervous diseases. In monasteries and convents, such patients were not only kept, but they also underwent cures, for in addition to everything else, these religious institutions were generally situated amid the loveliest and healthiest natural surroundings, and almost all the modern German and Swiss sanatoria and ‘Rest or Air Cure’ Establishments have been built on or near the ruins of some ancient monastery or convent. The founders of the latter well knew with what kind of subjects they would have to deal, and what exactly these subjects needed. I repeat: Monasteries and convents have in the past rendered humanity a great service, by taking the place of asylums and sanatoria for mental and nervous sufferers. Now that institutions for the cure or care of such sufferers abound everywhere, convents have become useless, and are being suppressed.
“In Russia, they still exist, and will long continue to exist and be needed, because they provide for our peasantry that change and relaxation which the upper classes find in their travels abroad. A certain amount of change is essential to all human beings, but most particularly to inhabitants of the gloomy North, with its cold cheerless climate. The English, for instance, have long ago realized that it is necessary for the maintenance of their health and strength to travel at least once a year. Whither would our Russian peasant and his hapless ‘old woman’ betake themselves, if there existed no monastery where one can go for a ‘prayer week’? For them, convents represent the new places, new people, new impressions, which are so necessary for jaded nerves, and which have such a reviving influence on body and soul. Our monasteries are perfectly aware of this, and willingly receive, feed, and maintain pilgrim visitors. The most hospitable of all is, perhaps, the Valamski Monastery, and our silly Petrograd does not even suspect how much of its moral and mental good health it owes to this institution. While various charitable societies are only just beginning to organize picnics and excursions, the Valamski Brothers have long had their own private steamers, which, modestly and without any advertisement or flourish of trumpets, bring visitors to Valam, at a fare cheap enough to be within the means of the most limited purse. Once there, all travellers are received alike by the monks, with kindness and courtesy, are regaled with simple, wholesome food, and provided with distractions in the shape of rowing and sailing. How many delightful impressions have been brought back from these excursions by the poor of Petrograd, during those glorious summer months, when all nature rejoices! But for the Valamski Monastery, many a puny Petrograd slum child would never have known how beautiful God’s world is. All honour to the modest brotherhood of Valam! These are true Christians, since they share with others God’s most glorious gift to man—nature!
“Russian monasteries also render a service to the people by their beautiful singing. The desire for music is not, as many people wrongly suppose, the privilege of the cultured circles. There are indeed many clever and well-educated people who do not care about music at all, while there are ignorant peasants who delight in it. You have only to go to the big Cathedral of the Alexander-Nevsky Lavra, at Christmas or Easter. At no concert will you see such beaming, happy faces. The people will stand for two or three hours, forgetting everything in the world but the delight of the soft dulcet tones of the choir.
“In all poor countries, where general culture is not very advanced, monasteries give to the masses the silence, poetry and music, for which their souls unconsciously yearn. As soon, however, as a people grows prosperous, educates itself and finds its own distractions, the need for convents or monasteries disappears. Simple-minded folk imagine that the suppression of the religious orders means the decay of Christianity—but they forget that monasteries existed in India and in China, long before the birth of Christ. Christianity did not invent them, but the monasteries of the time gradually adopted the new faith. Actually, all such institutions are quite contrary to Christian ideals, for Christ’s teaching, above all else, enjoins activity. Much more in conformity with the Gospel are the modern religious working associations, with their hospitals, schools, and refuges, which are springing up everywhere now in place of the old convents. Their introduction into modern life is perfectly comprehensible. In addition to the nervous wrecks, there were also some healthy people who used to enter convents; people, indeed, whose superior spiritual health, so to speak, prompted them to consider the happiness of others, before their own. Such monks and nuns as these were not content to do nothing but fast and pray, but invented occupations for themselves. Some founded schools and colleges, others nursed the sick, others again became missionaries in foreign lands. They wore the prescribed attire of their orders, but in all other respects they lived in the world as before, loving and helping their neighbours, and sharing the interests and joys and sorrows of their fellow-creatures. It is this healthy class of monastics, that is now, after the suppression of the old institutions, hastening to found new ones, more in keeping with the needs of our times. Such charitable associations have sprung up in large numbers also in Russia—God speed them! But institutions of that kind will never attract people like you, Irene Pavlovna!”
“Why not?”
“Because you are ill, and your illness makes the old convents, with their mysticism and their mysteries and their sleeping existence somewhere between earth and heaven, far more attractive to you.”
“But what is this disease?” asked Irene, with a mistrustful smile.