CHAPTER III.
THE VOW OF POVERTY.
I purpose now to write a short chapter on the Vow of Poverty. By this vow a nun has stripped herself of everything; she no longer possesses the right to use anything, or any member of her body, without the permission of her superior. Body and soul, hands, eyes, and feet, are all given up; therefore the nun may not use her hands or her feet even to perform a kind and helpful action for her fellow-nuns, without first going to ask the leave of her Superior. Often, especially at first, I did not understand my obligation, and consequently I would act without permission, and bring upon myself the necessity of performing some penance, that my sin might thus be atoned for. A nun may be almost parched with thirst, yet she must not drink even a cup of cold water without first finding the Superior and asking her leave, and even then she may not obtain it; and if leave is granted, she may be censured for her alleged want of mortification. The nun who has taken this vow of poverty must never possess or make use of anything which has not been either given or lent to her by the Superior, neither can she borrow or lend anything without leave. This kind of existence really engendered the most abominable selfishness, and I never saw any selfishness to equal a nun’s. Her vow of poverty makes her selfish. She has nothing but what is doled out scantily by her Superior; and when she does get anything, she takes good care to keep it, not knowing when she will receive the like again. This does not apply to anything great and valuable, but such trifles as pins and needles, or cotton, or a piece of paper, or a flower-pot. To give or lend a flower, a picture, a thimble, a needle, a book, or anything else, without leave, is to break the Vow of Poverty, for which confession must be made, and reparation by public penance.
Anything sent by the parents or relations of the nuns may be disposed of as the Superior likes; and should it be given to another nun, we were told, “Let the sister for whom that gift was sent beware of murmuring at her Superior’s wisdom.” Often did I have presents taken from me, without form or ceremony, and given to another, my face being carefully watched whilst the transfer was being made, to see how I bore the trial, or if I betrayed any signs of criticising the actions of my Superior.[5]
I remember that once a dear little child was brought into our community; and being very fond of children, and thinking of my brothers, I held out my arms to the child, and was on the point of kissing him, when I heard the authoritative voice of the rev. Father, saying, “Sister Agnes, sit down. Not without leave; you should ask first.” I coloured as if accused of some great crime, and sat down, but was too ashamed when recreation time came to ask to kiss him then. I had only been a novice for a few months, and did not think of my vow of poverty being broken by using my arms, or lips, or will, without leave.
Another time—it was at Christmas—I saved a mince-pie to give away to the first poor person who came to the door. I was portress then. An old man came, and I related at recreation how pleased he was with my gift; but, alas! I brought down upon myself a little lecture, and was told that I had no right to give convent property away. “But,” said I, “it was mine—my very own.” Whereupon I learnt that for me the words “mine” and “thine” did not exist, since by this vow of poverty everything belonged to the Father Superior.
We might not even borrow a pocket-handkerchief, though, as we were allowed but three, it was often very necessary to borrow one, for we could not without permission even wash them without breaking rule. If a sister brought with her several dozens, they would be distributed according to the needs of the community, and the rest put away for future use, as the new novice would be breaking her vow by retaining more than she needed for present use.
We were very fortunate in being allowed pocket-handkerchiefs at all. I know another English sisterhood where the nuns are only allowed hard blue-checked dusters, and as the rev. Father and Mother and sisters have the disgusting habit of snuff-taking, they must find these dusters very inconvenient.
Should we use any other article in lieu of a pocket-handkerchief, it must be confessed, and reparation made by holding such article up high at the Magnificat, in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, so that all who were assembled might see that we had robbed God of what we had promised.
Again, if we broke any article, or put it to an improper use, the penance consisted in placing the said article, or piece of it, upon the head. Unfortunately for me, I was famous for breaking machine needles, and consequently I had to balance them on the top of my head, which was no easy matter.