The Project Gutenberg eBook, From Convent to Conflict, by Sister Marie Antoine

From Convent to Conflict

OR

A NUN’S ACCOUNT OF THE INVASION

OF BELGIUM

BY

SISTER M. ANTONIA

Convent des Filles de Marie, Willebroeck,

Province of Antwerp,

Belgium

JOHN MURPHY COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

200 W LOMBARD ST. BALTIMORE, MD

Copyright 1916 by

JOHN MURPHY COMPANY

Press of JOHN MURPHY COMPANY, Baltimore

Introduction

The publication of this little volume has for its object a better understanding of actual conditions, immediately following the invasion of a hostile army. The hope is indulged that the harrowing scenes witnessed by the author in Belgium, after the German invasion in 1914, may induce our own countrymen and women to more fully appreciate the blessings of peace. The events narrated are set forth as actually occurring, and—“with malice to none, with charity for all.”

Any profits derived from its favorable reception by the reading public or the charitably inclined are to be devoted to the reconstruction and repair of our school and convent, damaged during the engagement at the Fortress of Willebroeck, or for the establishment of a sewing school, with a lace-making department, for young women in America or England, as our Reverend Superiors may decide.

Any assistance in this charitable work will be gratefully appreciated by the author and her scattered community in Belgium, England and Holland.

Sister M. Antonia.

Skaneateles, New York,

April 3rd, 1916.

Letter of Introduction

La Supérieure du Couvent des Filles de Marie a Willebroeck, Province d’Anvers, en Belgique déclare par la présente que ses soeurs Marie Antoine et Marie Cecile sont envoyées aux Extats Unis, a fin d’examiner s’il y aurait noyen d’y établir une colonie de Filles de Marie; elle donne a Soeur M. Antoine le Pouvoir d’agir en son nom afin de prendre les mesures nécessaires a cet effet.

Soeur M. Berchmans.

Willebroeck, 29 September, 1914.

Apprové:

D. J. Card. Mercier, Arch. de Malines

TRANSLATION.

The Superior of the Convent of the Daughters of Mary, Willebroeck, Province of Antwerp, Belgium, state by this present (letter) that the Sisters Mary Antonia and Mary Cecilia are sent to the United States in order to examine if there are means of establishing a colony (mission) of the Daughters of Mary there; she gives to Sister M. Antonia the power to act in her name as to taking the measures necessary to this effect.

Sister M. Berchmans.

Willebroeck, 29 September, 1914.

Approved:

D. J. Card. Mercier, Arch. de Malines.

Contents

CHAPTER I.
Boarding School in the Couvent des
Filles de Marie, Willebroeck,
Prov. d’Anvers, Belgique,
July, 1914.

A merry group of Convent girls, in charge of Sister guardian, was seated in the shade of a huge old pear tree, discussing the joys and expectations of the approaching summer vacation. High are the walls enclosing this ancient cloister, and many are the gay young hearts protected and developed within its shady precincts.

Bright are the faces and happy the hearts of more than one hundred young girls on this midsummer day in the memorable year 1914. They are now enjoying the morning air in the playground, having just returned from their usual walk in the garden. The weather is somewhat oppressive; but as time is precious in boarding school, every one has something to do. One is crocheting; another is finishing a piece of Irish lace; still another is reviewing an article in a certain newspaper, as it is her task to make a summary for that evening’s meeting of the Study Circle.

Joy, unalloyed by the experience of care or sorrow, is written on the face of every child. It is only one week before the annual distribution of prizes, the subsequent close of the school year, and a speedy family reunion.

It is eight o’clock. The sign is given, and instantly a hundred busy-bodies become still and serious. Not another word is spoken as the preceptress conducts the long line through the large playroom, over the small yard, and into the various classrooms.

The young ladies, aged from fifteen to twenty, proceed at once to the sewing department. This is to them the most important and interesting of all the rooms; needlework being a predominant feature in the education of all young Belgian women. After prayer, work begins. Some are cutting patterns; others are putting pretty lace collars on those suits which must serve for the reception of diplomas; and a few of the more diligent, who have completed the term’s work, are now finishing some lace or embroidery; while a cheery little canary is singing to the doubtful harmony of twenty sewing machines.

At the desk sits the patient and zealous teacher, Sister M. Alphonse, assisted in her work by two young novices. She is, perhaps, the most widely known and respected seamstress in all the province. For years her gold embroidery has sparkled on flags and banners; for years her skillful fingers have adorned the vestments that beautified God’s altar in many churches of the diocese. Sister M. Alphonse knows the secret of winning the confidence of her pupils, and it is interesting to see how they crowd around her to reveal their little joys and sorrows and obtain advice in the various necessities of a long and busy school year.

On leaving the sewing-room, the visitor proceeds to the other departments. On all sides order and discipline prevail. The stone-floored halls are spotlessly clean. Pretty mosaic figures attract the eye and give a quaint appearance to those ancient corridors. The walls are very high, the rooms spacious, the windows long and broad, thus capable of admitting an abundance of air, light and sunshine. The wooden floors of the classrooms are often scrubbed and strewn with fine white sand from the seashore.

Sad is the lot of any poor child who might have the misfortune to upset an inkstand. You would find her on her knees rubbing the stain with soap and scraping it with a piece of glass until every vestige of ink disappears. If you tell her to be more careful in future, she will laughingly reply: “Schuren is toch zoo aangenaam” (scrubbing is so pleasant).

In passing from one room to another, one notices the zeal and energy of both pupils and teachers. So busy are they, and so diligently are the hours employed, that the long school day, from eight o’clock in the morning until seven in the evening, fleets quickly away. The desks are stiff, and hard, and heavy; but no one complains. The young Belgian women are devoted to their country and its customs; and if one were told that in another country more comfortable desks were provided, she would answer candidly, “Wij blijven liever in ons vaderland” (We would rather remain in our own country.)

The climate of Belgium is temperate, though more inclined to be cool than warm. The ground is very moist in some places. Never have we experienced the extremes of heat and cold found in America. Very heavy rains, accompanied by lightning and deafening peals of thunder, occur in the summer. There is little snow in the winter. In some parts of the country the grass is emerald green all year long. Rosebuds are seen on the bushes in January, and sometimes the trees are budding in February.

The stoves in Belgium are far inferior to those in America. Kitchen ranges are not used to bake bread. Those who do not possess stone or steam ovens, are obliged to buy bread daily at the baker’s.

When accustomed to the cool, invigorating climate of Belgium, a great contrast is experienced in visiting America, and one feels more or less in danger of suffocation during a journey in an overheated railroad car, or a few hours spent in the rooms of our American homes.

Most of the people in Belgium are early risers; and if, by chance, you happen to visit any of her cities at dawn of day, you will find her churches full to overflowing with zealous Christians, who, like their time-honored forefathers, offer the first fruits of the day to God, the giver of every good. The churches are numerous, large and beautiful, and multitudes of worshipers are in daily attendance. Men and women of the higher class attired in robes of broadcloth; poor peasant women, with little shawls or kerchiefs covering their heads and shoulders; blue-eyed, fair-faced children, and the aged; whose bent forms and tottering steps show that they are nearing the end of life’s journey; all assemble in the early morning seeking mercy, peace and comfort at the Throne of Grace. We can imagine the effect of this morning’s devotion, especially consoling to the poor, who, in their heavy “blokken” (wooden shoes) toil, day in and day out, all year long, for a small compensation, insufficient for the comfort of their families.

As are the parents, so are the children; particularly in the boarding-school, where the rules and regulations necessitate strict discipline. Shortly before or after five o’clock in the morning, every child is up, unless some one is ill, who, for the time, is excused from rising. After dressing, a sign is given and all descend in strict silence to the chapel for morning prayer and the holy sacrifice of the Mass. After morning devotions they go to the refectory, where a bounteous supply of “botterham” (bread and butter) and strong coffee is served. Breakfast is eaten in silence, except on special festivals.

Needless to say that a great amount of tact is necessary on the part of the monitor to keep one hundred little tongues within their ivory walls until the signal is given to go to the playground.

Here we found them at the beginning of our narrative; here we shall find them again at half-past nine, at twelve, after four-o’clock lunch, and after supper; in the summer evenings. In winter the time of recreation is spent in the reception hall of the boarding-school. At eight o’clock the school day ends, and all advance in strict silence to the dormitories to enjoy the peaceful slumber which health and youth affords.

The dormitories are four in number. Each child has a separate alcove. Several Sisters are in attendance during the night. In case of illness, a child is immediately removed to another apartment.

To these general rules and regulations there are exceptions on Sundays and special festivals during the year. On those days special devotional exercises take place in the morning, the afternoon being assigned to the practicing of hymns and sacred music. When the weather is fine, the recesses are longer, and pleasant walks may be enjoyed in the garden. One Sunday in the month, called “Visiting Day,” is at the disposal of parents and visitors, who are permitted to call upon the children.

CHAPTER II.
Daily School Life.

Every Tuesday afternoon, from one until about four o’clock, all the boarders, except the little ones, dressed in full uniform, go forth for a long walk with their teachers. They usually visit churches, shrines, or places of particular interest, thus developing the spiritual, mental and physical powers of the body.

The uniform is quite becoming and attractive. It consists of a neat black dress, without showy trimmings or ornaments, black shoes and stockings, black hat, black silk gloves and necktie, with white sailor collar and cuffs. Sometimes white blouses, with straw hats, white silk neckties and gloves are worn. The hair is simply combed back, a part being taken up and fastened with a black or white bow, while the rest is braided and fastened again with a bow to match the necktie and gloves.

A silver chain, bearing the medal of the Immaculate Conception, is worn by all those belonging to the “Congregation of the Children of Mary.”

For what might seem monotonous in this manner of dress, we find sufficient variation in the blond locks, naturally curling around the forehead, the plump, rosy cheeks, the sparkling eyes and smiling faces of these gay and guileless children.

The uniform is not permitted to be of costly fabric, as it must be in accordance with the means of every pupil. It is the distinguishing mark of the institution to which the child belongs, and claims for her a certain respect not due to those dressed in gaudy, striking, many-colored garb, so often affected by girls and young ladies.

One of the principal and most beneficial results noticeable from the use of the uniform suit in the boarding-school is that it destroys the great inclination on the part of one pupil to surpass another in dress and personal adornment, thus preventing vanity and arrogance in the one, and removing the cause of envy, jealousy and distraction in the other.

What teacher has not remarked, in the ordinary classroom, the scornful glance on the face of a haughty child, as she regards her poorer neighbor’s cheap dress, and who has not noticed the seeds of envy sprouting up in the heart of some poor little creature, so deeply wounded by the conduct of her affluent companion? There she sits, and, instead of diligently studying her lesson, that sensitive little soul is complaining against the All-Wise Providence, which has given to her neighbor more than to her. Alas! when that child returns home after school, poor mother must suffer. Her daughter begins to annoy and worry, tease and complain, until mother also feels the pangs of jealousy; and, falling into error, denies herself some household necessity in order to satisfy her discontented child. There are many mothers in the world at present who are real slaves to the caprices of their daughters in matters of dress. A pretty uniform in all common day schools would prevent a great deal of this annoyance to mothers, pupils and teachers.

Nearly every year since the opening of the sewing and household schools an exposition is held for about two weeks, in which all suits, lace, embroidery, painting, mending of clothing, and all other articles made by the boarders are exhibited.

Written invitations are sent out to the families and friends of the Sisters and children. Only those who have received such invitations are allowed to visit the exposition.

It sometimes occurs that a dramatic performance is given by the boarders as an entertainment, wherein the play represents an event of particular religious or historical interest. In this case, also, only those invited are permitted to be present.

Most interesting entertainments, provided by the Convent for the boarding-school, are the stereopticon views, with lectures given by the Reverend Professors of the College of Boom, in which are represented and discussed all the important scenes in and on the route to the Holy Land by those who have actually visited the scenes and secured the views themselves.

Another object of great interest is the “Play of the Birds,” presented by a French Gentleman, when requested by the Superiors, for the pleasure and instruction of the pupils. There are several cages of birds of the smaller kinds. These birds are exactly trained, and, being perfectly obedient to their master, perform a series of exquisite feats, which leave a lasting impression on the memory. But the lesson which is intended to be impressed upon the minds of the pupils is the result which can be obtained from even the unreasoning creatures around us, by the unceasing, unwavering influence of a loving, gentle, patient and persevering character.

When the children had entered the classroom in the morning, the monitor stood for a moment and glanced around to see if the yard was in order. Her eye fell upon a paper forgotten by one of the pupils. She opened it and saw the portraits of the murdered Crown Prince and his noble consort, of Austria-Hungary, little recking the awful import of that heinous crime to her own fair country.

Was it the heat, or was it the harbinger of coming woe? A feeling of sadness so seldom experienced in the life of a zealous religious took possession of the Sister and carried her for the moment beyond her Convent walls, far away to the battlefield of life, where Pride, Ambition and Materialism, like unto monstrous autocrats, wage war against the human race. A moment she pauses while her heart exclaims, “Sursum Corda” (Lift up the hearts).

“One day in Thy house, O Lord, is better than thousands in the dwellings of sinners.”

She glanced around the yard and went slowly to her room.

From the window could be seen the sunny, cloudless sky, the trees laden with ripening fruit, and far away those fertile, well-tilled fields in which, perhaps, there never had been raised before, a more plentiful or luxuriant crop of wheat and barley. Who could have ever thought that within a few short weeks that same, sunny sky would be raining death-dealing bombs upon the innocent inhabitants of a peace-loving nation, while her crops, over-ripe for the harvest, were being trampled under foot and her plains and meadows deluged in a sea of blood?

How strange, how incomprehensible does it not appear to those whose lives are spent in the abode of sanctity, to witness this ignoble strife, this worship of mammon, the rise and fall of the victims of Ambition, along the path of glory leading to the grave? All the wealth of the world cannot obtain for them the precious pearl of peace, or the tranquillity of mind possessed by the poorest day laborer in the humble performance of his allotted task.

Peace is a hidden manna, unknown to the selfish lover of the world, in whose heart rages perpetual war.

On the outer page of a child’s copy book, I observed an illustration which depicted in a very simple manner the progress of selfish Ambition as it is found today in every class of society. In the corner of the page sat a big black spider, intent on catching a little fly which had lit on a blade of grass. Just above was a greedy little bird, ready to grasp the spider. At a short distance a vicious-looking old cat crouched in the grass, ready to spring at the bird. A dog, prowling along the street, seeing the cat, showed his long teeth and would have sprung at the cat, had not a little boy approached and begun to worry the dog. In the distance appears father, with the “rod of correction” in hand, ready to punish little Fritz for cruelty to animals.

Thus there is selfish strife in this world of ours, strife from the cradle to the grave; and no one, however proud, ambitious or arrogant he may be, who will not, one day, find a master greater than he. Now what is the object of this never-ending strife? It is simply an insatiable desire for superiority and self-satisfaction, even if, to obtain the ends in view, one must trample upon the rights of others.

Having lost original happiness in the fall of Adam, man has been looking for it ever since; but the great trouble is that many people look for it in the wrong direction, and seek it where no happiness is to be found. They think it consists in the acquisition of fame and glory, in the possession of wealth, or in a life of ease and luxury; but these things are as transient as the evening twilight, and uncertain as the shadowy forms portrayed in the river’s depths. The entire lives of many people are consumed in a fruitless search after the vain and perishable goods of the earth. Their years glide away like the sands in an hour-glass; and, finally they sicken, faint and fall, and their end resembles the pebbles thrown into the ocean, which for a moment ripple the surface and lose themselves in its waves. The human soul is as a fathomless sea, which nothing finite can satisfy. “O God!” cried St. Augustine, “Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are ever troubled, ever agitated, until they find rest in Thee.”

CHAPTER III.
The Parochial School, Convent
and Garden.

The reverie into which the Sister had fallen was soon interrupted by the sound of children’s voices in the small playground. Hastily leaving the room, she went to meet the merry little band of day-scholars who attend the boarding-school from half-past eight in the morning until six o’clock in the evening.

Joyfully the little group of twenty gathers around their mistress. One presents a flower which mother had given; another, a pretty postcard; yet another shows a toy or picture-book. A chubby little boy is crying because he has forgotten his new drum; and thus talking, laughing and crying, they are placed in line and lead away to the cozy little classroom whose long, broad windows look out upon the garden, which is ever green, and the rose bushes near the arbor, which bloom the greater part of the year, and on whose twigs buds were often seen on New Year’s Day.

During the morning session one rosy-cheeked little girl, with long yellow curls and an apron as white as snow, stood up by her desk and said, “Sister, there is war in the newspapers. Papa said so this morning.” All the little heads turned, curious to hear about the war; and little Charlie took out his box of soldiers and arranged them in marching order on the desk. The mistress took advantage of the situation to teach the older pupils the great value of peace and the reward promised to the peacemakers; “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”

At half-past nine the recess bell rings, and all the pupils proceed once more to the playground and play tag, or continue their needlework in the shade of the wide-spreading trees. During certain seasons of the year all children play “beads,” which is quite similar to a game of marbles. Happier than a general returning with the spoils of war is the child who, at the end of the season, can show her companions a string of large, many-colored beads two or three yards long.

The swing and the rings are the source of great enjoyment for the children, and not a little care and anxiety to the Sister on guard, especially if the ripening fruit hangs on a branch within touching range of the children’s feet.

When it freezes hard in the winter, there being no snow on the ground and no pond nearer than the large garden, a number of the older pupils pump water and throw it on the stone pavement of the playground, until the whole becomes as a sheet of glass; and then the exercise of skating on wooden shoes begins. Needless to say, there is danger of fracturing more than the pavement when this play begins.

Sister M. Anastatia has been for about twenty-eight years preceptress in the boarding-school. She is a small, slight figure, whose very presence has a kind of magic influence upon all around her. At her entrance and during her lessons perfect order prevails. Authority and precision, softened by great kindness of heart, are the distinctive personal traits of Sister M. Anastatia. She is assisted in her work by several other Sisters and two lady teachers.

Among the assistants, no one, perhaps, deserves more credit or gratitude than Sister M. Cecilia, who for more than twenty-five years has directed the musical exercises of the Convent and Boarding-school.

Showing a natural talent for music in her early childhood, and possessing a fine voice, her own progress in this art has been remarkable, and her services inestimable as teacher of music and directress of the choir. She is assisted in her work by Sister M. Margarita, one of the younger Sisters of the Community.

The Belgians, like many other European nations, are great lovers of music. Thus, since a large number of pupils take music lessons, the monotony of school life is broken by the melody of many instruments and the sweet harmony of children’s voices.

There is no place where the influence of soft, sweet music is so effective as in the church or chapel during devotional exercises. Nowhere are greater pains taken to develop this art as a branch of education than in the Convent schools, and nowhere are the results obtained more gratifying.

Sister M. Amelia, the only child of the well-known family Le Duc, of Mechelen, entered the Convent at the age of sixteen, and having completed the Normal course in St. Nicholas, took charge of one of the higher departments in the Boarding-school. She teaches French and Flemish, also drawing, painting and penmanship. The English and German languages are taught in the higher departments.

Proceeding from the Boarding-school, the visitor is led around to the long playground of the Parochial School of Willebroeck. Here between six and seven hundred girls form the long line which is marching through the gate of “d’Externat.” Each division is in charge of one or more Sisters, who conduct the children safely through the street a little beyond the Post-office. Here the procession breaks up, and the children scatter in all directions and run on to their homes in the different parts of the town.

Scarcely have the Sisters finished dinner, when the throng of pupils are at the gate again, eager for admittance. See them coming from all directions, and listen to the clatter of their wooden shoes on the stone pavement! Truly happy in their child-like simplicity, strong, healthy and active, they are worthy descendants of a sturdy old race. When the gate is opened, crowds rush into the yard and begin their games of tag, jump the rope, hide and seek, etc., just as easily in those hard “blokken” as their next-door neighbors, the “Pensionnaires” (Boarders), in fine high-heeled shoes.

The continual use of wooden shoes is hurtful to the feet. They hinder the development of natural gracefulness in walking and cause the feet to become large and very flat.

Sister M. Stanislas superintends the Parochial School. Though small of stature and very delicate, she has worked for years in the cause of education and has become one of the most prominent teachers in the province. In company with her associates, the assistant teachers, she attends the conferences, writes articles on education and conference work, directs the sewing department; in a word, it is greatly due to her zeal, energy and Christian charity that the Girls’ Catholic School of Willebroeck has attained as high a standing as the highly paid public schools of the district.

On leaving “d’Externat” (parochial school) one enters that part of the garden especially assigned to the use of the Sisters during recreation. It adjoins the large garden which is at the service of strangers on Sundays and visiting days. From the main path, in the middle of the garden, a fine view can be had of that quaint old Convent, some of whose buildings have stood there over a hundred years. On the right rises the new school, containing several large classrooms on one side; and on the other, the bakery, laundry, free sewing and household schools. At a short distance from the school is the “Gloriette” (arbor), or summer house, surrounded by a very beautiful collection of rose bushes, then in full bloom. There are beds also containing many varieties of flowers, palms and evergreens.

In the distance is seen the Convent chapel, with its small belfry. It seems so insignificant in comparison with the majestic tower of the old parish church of Willebroeck, which, probably, has weathered the storms of centuries.

On the right-hand side of the chapel is found the “Grotto,” or “Shrine of Our Blessed Lady of Lourdes.” It is here that the children, during the summer evenings, sing their sweetest hymns; here also that the Sisters, after a tiresome day’s work, kneel in spirit a few moments at the feet of their “Holy Mother” and patroness, who gave to the world the first perfect model of Convent life, when as a child she parted with her dearly beloved parents, St. Joachim and St. Anna, and entered the Temple of Jerusalem, where the years of her childhood were passed in work, in prayer, and in devout communion with the Divine Being, who was “Lord of the Temple.”

The number of Religious now in the Convent is fifty. They are Sisters of the Augustinian Order, bearing the name of Filles de Marie (Daughters of Mary). The Mother House, wherein reside the Superior General, Rev. Mother M. Berchmans, and Assistant Superior, Rev. Sister M. Gabrielle, is, and has been for about fifty years, in the town of Willebroeck, in the Province of Antwerp, Belgium.

In this house all the younger Sisters are received, trained, and make their profession, which consists in the solemn pronunciation of the three holy vows of religion.

Many of the younger Sisters complete their normal course for school teachers during their novitiate.

The mission houses are Thisselt, Blaesvelt, Aertselaar and Bonheyden. All the Sisters are Belgians, except one.

During the last eighteen years five of the members have celebrated the golden jubilee, or fiftieth anniversary of their entrance into the Community. One of these, Rev. Mother M. Magdalena, was the sister of the late well-known and highly esteemed Bishop of Richmond, Va., Rt. Rev. A. Van de Vyver, D. D. She entered at the age of eighteen and lived fifty-seven years in the Convent.

We stood by the death-bed of all these dear old members who had given the flower and fruit of their long and useful lives to the advance of education and religion. We observed the peaceful resignation on the countenance of each dying Sister, and the smile of heavenly joy on her lips. The death of each one of these was for the Community as the passing away of a sunbeam. For them it was only a happy transition from the sorrows of time to the joys of eternity. We gazed on those faces so pure, so calm, so majestic, even after the spirit had fled, and recalled the words of Holy Scripture, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,” and again, “The death of the just is precious in the sight of the Lord.”

Besides the above named, there are a number of Sisters in the Convent who have already celebrated their “Silver Jubilee,” or twenty-fifth anniversary of their entrance.

Under the administration of the so-called Liberal party in Belgium, in the year 1879, the Catholic schools, being deprived of financial assistance from the Government, were closed.

A new School Law was passed, and the Crucifix and images of the saints were prohibited in the schools. Many Catholic teachers resigned. The clergy and rich Catholic families built schools of their own, which were supported by gifts.

Our Community provided schools for the poor children of Willebroeck, and furnished the classrooms with desks, books and all necessary supplies. The eight Sisters who taught received only 2,000 francs per year, which was less than fifty dollars for each Sister, and the predicament of the Sisters became more or less alarming. Several prominent gentlemen in the town, among whom was Mr. Erix, the father of our present Sister M. Aloisia, went around taking up collections for the pressing necessities of the Community.

In the year 1866, when the cholera broke out in Willebroeck, three Sisters went to the hospital; and, without any compensation whatever, remained with their patients. Later, about the year 1891, the same disease broke out again. The Liberal Burgomaster, Mr. De Naeyer, being in great need of assistance, came to the Convent and asked for Sisters as nurses. Regardless of their past grievances, occasioned by the bitter opposition of the Liberals to the Catholic schools, eager only to do good, five strong, able-bodied Sisters, at the request of their Superior, left the Convent and went to the temporary hospital which had been hastily erected in the town.

Here they remained day and night, in the midst of death and disease, at the bedside of their stricken fellow-creatures until the epidemic ceased. Strange to say, not one of the Sisters contracted the disease, although numbers of their patients died each day.

Only two of those heroines of charity and self-sacrifice now survive: Sister M. Theresia and Sister M. Perpetua. These two Sisters, feeble and aged, were obliged to take flight into Holland last September, but have now returned, with several others, to their Convent home in Willebroeck.

CHAPTER IV.
The Cloister.

Proceeding from the little Grotto of Lourdes, where the Sisters kneel in the evening for their “Drie Wees Gegroeten” (three Hail Marys), one passes through the large, stone-paved playground, over the small yard, and enters the corridor leading to the Chapel.

Passing through the yard, we observe the Novitiate on the left. This may be considered the preparatory school of religious life. Here no one is received under the age of twenty-one, without full consent of parents or guardians. Immediately a regular course of training begins, in which the duties and obligations of religious life are clearly presented. No applicant is permitted to take the vows who has not voluntarily responded to the requirements of the Novitiate.

Before taking the vows, every postulant, if not satisfied, is perfectly free to return to her own home. Thus the obligations which bind one to religious life are not incurred by entering a Convent or taking the veil, as some people suppose, but by the solemn and voluntary pronunciation of the vows, which in our Community may not take place without special dispensation, in less than a year after receiving the habit. In the Novitiate a Training Class has been established for those who intend to teach school. If not already graduates, this course is usually followed by the novice, who later enters the Normal School.

The experiences of the Novitiate make a life-long impression on the mind, and are regarded by the religious of more mature years as the scenes of childhood in the home circle are looked upon by the people of the world.

On the right of the hall is seen the large folding door leading to the Community room of the Sisters. This apartment, especially devoted to the private use of the “professed members,” is never entered by the worldling, except with special permission from higher authority, and then only in case of necessity, as, for instance, a workman, for necessary repairs.

Enter then in spirit this earthly paradise and try, if possible, to comprehend the charm which permeates it. Here we meet rich and poor, old and young. They call each other “Sister.” They greet in passing with these words, “Geloofd Zij Jezus Christus” (Praised Be Jesus Christ), to atone for the profane use of the sacred Name by the vulgar.

The Sisters are all dressed alike; thus, no vain love of dress, no envy, no jealousy. They lose no precious time at the dressing table, and no money is wasted in following the vagaries and follies of every changing season. Their food is the same (exceptions being made for the sick and feeble), simple and substantial, neither rich nor dainty. The result is, as a rule, a measure of health and physical strength unknown in the circles of society.

The rules and regulations to which they voluntarily subject themselves relieve them of all care and encumbrance as to the future. Each member performs her work as faithfully and diligently as possible; and the good “All Father” provides. They join each other in prayer and in the recreation. They assist each other in pain, in sickness and sorrow, and comfort one another in the hour of death.

The work of the members is not the same. Each has a special office or work to perform.

As the different organs of the body co-operate in preserving life, and even the smallest screw in the locomotive is necessary to the accomplishment of its work, so does each member contribute to the spiritual life and well-being of the Community.

From this place is banished all that makes life miserable for millions of people. That is, particularly, the great desire of worldly possession—having, ever having, and never having enough—also, the ever-increasing desire and search for pleasure, pastime and self-satisfaction; but finding only pain, chagrin and remorse; that is, finally, the insatiable desire for freedom from all bonds and fetters which sanctify the soul and keep the body in restraint; and while thus seeking liberty, one finds, as a rule, in himself a most cruel tyrant for master.

The Sisters retire at an appointed hour and arise at the first sound of the bell. They work faithfully and industriously all day long, all year long, all their lives.

Their wages are neither gold nor silver. They are the eternal merits which they know awaits them in a better life. The false and artificial customs of the world are strangers here. This short and sorrowful life is looked upon as a pilgrimage in a land of exile, or as the passage of a train from which the traveler joyfully observes the fleeting objects along the route, well knowing that every disappearing mile-post reduces the distance between him and his dearly beloved home.

The Sisterhood is as a garden of many flowers, where the pure white lily never loses its beauty, where the red rose of love has made place for the pure white blossom of Christian Charity; and the fragrant little violet of humility diffuses incense to the angels who ascend and descend about the Throne of God.

People often condole the Religious closed up within the prison walls of the Convent and forever deprived of the joys and pleasures of the world. Little they know that within these same walls the heart is as free as the flight of the bird, while the soul in solitude is in constant communion with God, whose Divine Presence is felt in the life that surrounds her.

She hears His voice in the gentle sigh of the breeze, in the hum of the bee, in the song of the bird and in the soft murmur of the little brooklet breaking over the mountainside. His wonderful attributes become visible to a certain degree in every object around her. She admires His Divine Providence in the fatherly care which He takes of His creatures. Even the tiniest insect and the smallest blade of grass show forth the love, wisdom and the goodness of God.

The soul in solitude, hidden within the Convent walls, admires the grandeur and glory of God as manifested in the majestic rising and setting of the sun, and its influence over all nature. God’s beauty is seen in the color of the clouds and in the ever-varying tints of the sky. The fragrance of the flowers reminds her of the odor of sanctity which a Christian should leave in his wake; and if, as sometimes occurs, one observes anything which mars the beautiful face of Nature or disturbs the peaceful course of events, it brings to mind the revolting sight of a soul in sin and the remorse and confusion it must suffer.

The wave on the ocean’s breast; those giant rocks on the shore; the mountains and little hills; the river flowing on to the sea; the moss and ferns in the wood; in a word, every object in and around proclaim to the religious the omnipotence and omnipresence of Him who created them.

The soul detached from the temporal, and seeking only the eternal, forsakes the creature to find the Creator; and, having found Him, has found what her heart desired.

What are, then, the pleasures of earth to those who have tasted the sweetness of Grace; more delicious than the luxuries of a thousand worlds? They speak no more of the past, since for them a new and happier life has begun. With eyes and hearts fixed on heaven, they have forgotten the earth and, enraptured, cry out:

“Laetatus sum in his qui dicta sunt mihi; in domum domini ibimus.” (I was rejoiced at those things which were said to me: We shall go into the house of the Lord.)

CHAPTER V.
The Approaching Storm.

July’s sun sank gently away on the western horizon, and its last rays lit up the ripening fruit, the plants and flowers in the garden. It seemed to linger for a last farewell to the groups of merry children who, unconscious of their fast-approaching woe, were cheerfully singing Belgium’s well-known national song, “The Proud Flemish Lion.”

In a few moments the “Golden Gate” closed on a field of purple haze, shutting out that blessed glimpse of heaven, while the black shroud of the most dismal night in history darkened the sky of that hapless nation.

The Sisters were together in the evening recreation of that fateful day, when word was received that King Albert of Belgium, in order to fulfill his obligations of neutrality, had refused the Kaiser’s army access to his territory to attack the French. Had a thunderbolt fallen from a clear sky, or an earthquake shaken the ground under foot, it would scarcely have surprised or terrorized the people more than did the Kaiser’s declaration of war against this free and happy little kingdom.

When hostilities broke out between Austria and Servia, while realizing the possibility of trouble in the country in case of a general war, we were assured that Belgium, being a neutral nation and having no other desire than that of possessing her own soil, and living in peace with all nations, had nothing to fear from war or invasion.

Feeble human insight into the designs of Providence, whose hand has the power to destroy and rebuild, to crown or dethrone kings and kaisers, and seal the fate of nations.

It is not our object to discuss the causes of the present European war from a material point of view, nor do we intend to pass judgment upon the nations or individuals engaged in it; nevertheless, viewing the present condition of affairs in Europe from another standpoint, and drawing conclusions from observation and personal experience, we must admit that a spiritual warfare had been raging there for several years.

Certainly, God, who is the source of peace, virtue and every good, should have been permitted to hold sovereign sway in His own kingdom; that is, in the hearts of His children and in the homesteads of His people. This right was disregarded in a most ruthless manner for many years, as is evident from the fact that the word “God” and everything pertaining to God, was expunged from the text-books in some places in Europe, while it would have been a serious offense for a teacher to mention His sacred name or anything in connection therewith in the classroom.

The spirit of atheism and agnosticism contended against the Spirit of Religion, and as a scourging wind was fast sweeping over the land, leaving by the wayside thousands of incautious souls bereft of all ennobling possessions of mind and heart.

The vices and vanities of pagan Rome were reviving before our very eyes in about the same manner as they had been prevalent over twenty hundred years ago; and, although idolatrous shrines were not found in the homesteads, they could easily be found in the hearts of many people.

Modern life in Europe, especially in the large cities, had to a certain degree, lost its high ideal of perfection, as did the world in the time of Noah; and, consequently, it does not seem indiscreet to intimate that the same Supremacy which chastised the world in the great flood, has, for the same reason, reappeared and become manifest in the deluge of blood which now inundates the soil of those unhappy nations.

Civilization, wealth, industry and intellect developed in times of peace and prosperity, so as to reach apparently the limit of effort, have exhausted their entire resources up to this time to construct means suitable for destroying themselves.

Now the question has been asked, “Why could not Christianity, after a period of about twenty hundred years on earth, have prevented this cruel war and saved the honor of civilization?” The answer is not difficult to find. Christianity could and would have saved humanity from this dreadful misfortune had it not been for the fact that her power had been checked, her authority limited, her work hindered and her ranks weakened by those heavy storms which, though unable to uproot the Divine Institution, have impeded her progress and lessened her influence over the human race.

When the happy day dawns in which the true spirit of Christianity, free and unfettered, will animate civilization as the soul animates the body, then, and not till then, will its powerful influence be able to dispel the shades of darkness in the minds of men, and in the palaces of kings and kaisers. Then will war cease and the reign of peace and happiness begin.

CHAPTER VI.
Changes.

When our minds, bewildered by the unexpected course which affairs had taken, fully comprehended that the country was at war, a feeling of dismay and terror, never before experienced, took possession of all.

Suitable measures were adopted for the safety of the children under our care, to whom the usual prizes were distributed on the first Sunday in August, a week before the ordinary time of vacation. Permission was also given them to return to their homes the following day. All necessary preparations were made as quickly as possible, and early next morning the boarders, accompanied by one or more Sisters, departed in groups to their homes in the surrounding cities and towns.

The parochial and public schools of the village continued in session for a few days, as the children were all residents, and no immediate danger was anticipated.

Subsequently, while the train containing a party of our pupils en route for Mechelen (Malines) was steaming on at full speed, it was hailed by a troop of Belgian soldiers, and instantly slackened up. All passengers were obliged to alight and, with satchels and small baggage in hand, had to make their way to the city as best they could, a walk of an hour or more. The soldiers boarded the train, which immediately started off to another station.

At home the general cleaning and arrangement of the Boarding-school began, and in a few days the united assistance of strong hands and willing hearts have accomplished the work, and the Sisters quietly await developments.

During this time several workmen were busy excavating a cellar in the yard. On a certain morning the implements remained idly standing by the wall, as the workmen had been called out to assist in the all-important work of strengthening the fortification of Willebroeck. This cellar, half filled with water by the dislodgment of the pipes leading to the cisterns, became later the receptacle of the bomb which passed through the chapel, shattering the walls and windows in its course.

One night a great noise in the streets aroused the residents of Willebroeck. It was the call for several classes of soldiers who were obliged to rise, pack their kits and depart in a few hours, perhaps never more to return to their homes or families. Sorrow filled many a homestead that morning, but it was only a faint shadow of what was yet to come.

Shortly afterwards it was announced that all the horses were to be brought to the public market-place in each city and village. Here they were examined and those unfit rejected. We know not whether any compensation was given to the owners at this time, although promise was made to make good the loss sustained at the close of the war. All the horses which could be of any service had to be given up for the use of the army. There were some people who gave seven, some nine, and one, we knew, who gave thirteen or fourteen. Thus, just about the time that the harvest was ripe in the fields, men and horses had to leave home and go to meet death on the field of battle. Imagine the plight of women and children, with every kind of hard work on hand and no one to help. How happy they were when, as happened occasionally, their poor old horses were rejected by the officers. Shortly thereafter all the bicycles and motor cars had to be delivered, and yet neither complaint nor murmur was heard on the part of the people, who patiently resigned themselves to the unhappy lot which had befallen them.

The gazettes and daily papers were eagerly read, although little reliable information could be obtained. Encouraging news in the evening was usually contradicted in the morning, while reports of the most terrible atrocities; of men murdered in cold blood; of open and gross lawlessness and evil conduct, terrorized the peaceful population in the unprotected towns and villages.

Shortly after the war began letters were received from His Eminence, Card. Mercier, Archbishop of Malines, requesting the use of the schools and other locales for a military hospital to be placed at the service of the Red Cross.

Again a few days of quiet anticipation elapse, like the calm which precedes a destructive storm; while the Sisters utilize the time in the unusual occupation of changing the joyful abode of children into a fit dwelling for death and misery.

The children’s refectory was arranged for the care of wounded officers; the large reception hall was fitted up for wounded soldiers, also the three dormitories and several classrooms. One classroom became an office for chaplain and doctors. Another department became an operating room. Another was reserved for cases of contagious disease which might occur, while another room was used as a mortuary.

One Sunday morning, about the middle of August, an unusual tumult was heard on the street. The door bell was loudly rung, and a messenger admitted with news that the officers of the Belgian War Department had commanded everything within firing range of the fortress to be cleared away at once. For some time previous the soldiers had been busy cutting down the groves and all the trees in the immediate vicinity of the fortress. The poor people were given just three hours to get away with bag and baggage.

Willebroeck, a large village between Antwerp and Brussels, about two miles from the City of Boom, had increased greatly in population, wealth and manufacturing during the years of peace and prosperity which had elapsed since the last war. Thus it happened that stores, dwelling houses, farm houses, breweries, paper mills and other industries had been built up, regardless of the fortification near by, whose grass-covered walls concealed the strong masonry and heavy cannon within.

This was a terrible misfortune for about six hundred families, whose dwellings, being located within the limits prescribed, had to be leveled to the ground. Even the tombstones in the cemetery, together with all the crops, trees, haystacks, barns and everything within range of the gaping mouths of the cannon, had to be laid flat or taken away.

No wonder that the people raced to and fro that hot Sunday morning, carrying bundles, dragging wagons with household furniture and fixtures; wheeling trunks, clothing, stoves, pictures, bedding and every article that could be taken up and carried away. Tears and perspiration rolled over the cheeks of men and women, whose faces glowed from the heat and intense excitement.

Fortunately, the first message was followed by another whereby the people were allowed more time to get their personal property in safety before the work of “burning off” began. Impossible to describe how bitterly hard it was for these poor people to tear themselves away from the homes which had cost them so much toil, labor and hardship.

The new Sewing School and laundry, the Parochial School, the Girls’ Public School, the Patronage (Boys’ Catholic School), and all other large locales received the village refugees. In a short time cows, horses, chickens, coal, grain, vegetables, furniture and everything that one can well imagine filled up the schools and gardens. The cattle, unused to the change and flurry, set up a dreadful howling, which continued long into the night.

In one schoolroom we had the contents of a grocery store; in another the costly furniture of one of the richest gentlemen in the town; while several families took up their abode in the midst of the clothing, furniture and bedding in the schools. How we all worked that day, carrying out desks and piling them up in safe places, putting away books, school utensils—as many as possible in the least possible space. Every available spot on the ground was utilized, except those rooms assigned to the private use of the Sisters, and the Boarding-school, which was reserved for the use of the Red Cross.

The poor people resigned themselves to these changes without complaint or murmur; and the Sisters, notwithstanding the disorder and confusion caused by this state of affairs, did all that was possible to assist and make them comfortable.

CHAPTER VII.
War.

It is only when a common calamity, such as this, threatens not only the happiness, but also the very existence, of a whole nation, and the inundating tide of misfortune rises to the very doors of rich and poor, that the fountains of true Christian Charity spring open and lave with refreshing draughts the parched lips of the afflicted. The same burden that one bears on his shoulder is borne in the heart of another, who, while alleviating the wants of his neighbor, must think of his own approaching ruin.

In such moments, while the seal of humble submission is stamped on the sorrow-stricken heart of suffering humanity, the haughty arrogance of creatures recedes before that resistless Power which shapes the destinies of men and nations, despite the best-laid plans and precautions.

The work of “burning off” the houses did not proceed rapidly enough, as the walls were of stone, and the roofs of tile or slate, and much of the wooden furniture had been removed, so pulleys, brought into action by electricity, were adjusted to the walls, and thus these houses, so dear to the hearts of the people, were actually pulled over upon the ground. Whole streets had to be leveled and all the residents left without a shelter. Many of these did not possess the means of providing other homes. However, the firm hope of final victory and the restoration of their lost property sustained them in this dark and dreary hour.

In the meantime a most terrible battle was taking place at the fortification of Liege. Was ever attack so strong, or resistance more determined? Belgian officers said “The enemy were twenty to one against us; but, being obliged to face the terrible fires of the fortress, their ranks were cut down in about the same manner as wheat it cut off by the reaper.” “So great was the number of the Germans that they seemed to spring up out of the ground.” “They crawled ahead on hands and feet, and at a given signal sprang erect and fired, and then again prostrated themselves. Thus they advanced, avoiding as much as possible the heavy fires in front.” Another Belgian officer at the fortress during the battle said: “It resembled a storm of fiery hailstones from a cloud of smoke, in an atmosphere suffocating with heat and the smell of powder.”

Eyewitnesses relate that heaps of slain, yards high, were found on the battle field, while columns of lifeless bodies were observed in a standing position, there being no place for the dead to fall.

A story was told by one of the Belgian officers of a German soldier who, when wounded by a Belgian in a hand-to-hand combat, took out a coin and presented it. The Belgian, surprised, exclaimed “Zijt gij zot?” (Are you crazy?) “Do you not know that I’ve broken your arm?” “Yes,” said the German, “This is to show my gratitude for the favor you’ve rendered me, since it gives me the opportunity of leaving the battle field.”

Much was said about the valor of the soldiers on both sides during the siege of Liege. The Germans were obliged to advance in the face of destructive fires. If one should retreat, he would be pierced by the bayonet of the soldier behind him.

Certain it is, whether we observe the Germans as friends or foes, all must admit that their courage, endurance and military tactics have surprised the whole world.

Sad it is to think that such manhood, intelligence and bravery is not trained to love the conquests of peace.

The Belgians, far inferior in number, fought with a valor which clearly shows the undying love of country and of freedom which has ever been a distinguishing characteristic of this noble-minded race.

It is not the first time that her fields have been deluged with the blood of her heroes, in whose honor and memory we find, in the flag of Belgium, beside the yellow, which signifies the kingdom, a red stripe to remind her people of the blood shed for freedom, and a black stripe in mourning for her slain.

While facing death in this first great battle at the fortress of Liege, one of the soldiers began to sing the well-known national hymn, “The Proud Flemish Lion.” Immediately the strains were taken up by the whole regiment, and thus singing, they advanced until hundreds of them fell in that awful conflict.

In the heaviest of the fray we were told that King Albert had placed himself in the lines with his soldiers. He did not desire to be called king, but comrade. His military dress was distinguished from the others by only a small mark on one of the sleeves. He attended to the correspondence for his soldiers and was regarded by them as a friend and father, under whose guidance they were ready to fight and die.

When the siege was over he visited the wounded in many of the hospitals and addressed each soldier in person.

As I remember, the siege of Liege lasted about two weeks. Finally, the strong walls of the fortress began to give way, thus demonstrating the uselessness of the old-time means of protection when obliged to withstand the shells and bombs of modern siege guns.

The German officers themselves praised the valor of the Belgians. We were told that the German commander refused to accept the sword from the Belgian officer, unwilling to submit the latter to this humiliation, since it was not for want of valor or through any fault of his that the fort had to be surrendered, but on account of the superior forces of the enemy and the all-destroying power of his heavy siege guns, some of which were said to shoot a distance of nearly thirty miles.

Needless to dwell upon the horrors which took place throughout the length and breadth of the country after the entrance of the enormous army of the Germans, whose plans had been so unexpectedly frustrated by the determined resistance of the Belgians.

These fought long and valiantly in expectation of assistance from the Allies, who, unprepared for the sudden progress of the campaign, were unable to render the necessary assistance in the beginning of the war. This is the explanation which was given by both the French and English as to the tardiness in the arrival of the help expected from those countries.

After the fall of Liege, when the enemy entered the city, the Rt. Rev. Bishop of the diocese, the Burgomaster of the city and several others of the more prominent residents were taken prisoners as hostages. These, as a rule, are put to death if the requirements of the enemy be not exactly met.

Some time later we heard that these hostages were set at liberty.

Then followed the destruction of many cities, towns and villages along the route, including the noted City of Louvain, the heart of Catholic Belgium, the principal place of her Christian educational institutions, and the seat of her missionary forces.

Consternation filled the minds of the Belgians at the needless destruction of this ancient city, with its treasures of art and sculpture, its schools, colleges, libraries, and particularly its world-renowned university.

CHAPTER VIII.
The Carnage of Battle.

After the fall of Liege and Namur, the destruction of Louvain and a number of noted cities, towns and villages, our minds were concerned with that awe-inspiring event—the advance of the enemy to Brussels.

Well do we remember that beautiful summer evening, when our prayers and evening meditation in the chapel were disturbed for about an hour by the continuous whirl of automobiles passing the Convent. We were told that evening that it was the departure of the legislative body from Brussels to Antwerp, with the archives and treasures of the Government.

Our hearts seemed to grow cold and leaden within us as we sat there hoping, praying, fearing, yet instinctively feeling the doom so rapidly approaching.

One gloomy, rainy day, word came that over two thousand soldiers of the Civil Guard had lowered their weapons at the approach of the enemy and quietly surrendered the City of Brussels, Belgium’s beautiful capital. To have fought without fortifications against such superior forces as the Germans possessed would have been a useless sacrifice of life.

Strict, in the extreme, were the regulations enforced by the Germans in the different places which they entered. They also levied enormous war taxes. Bold and undaunted even to the verge of imprudence, as was then remarked by the Belgians, was the conduct of Burgomaster Max, of Brussels, in his conduct toward the enemy.

The work of strengthening and completing the fortification of Willebroeck, said to be amongst the strongest in the world, continued, while a large number of soldiers, as watch guards, were constantly on duty.

The electricity which supplied light to the village and kept many a motor propelling, was entirely cut off from the houses and public buildings and concentrated at the fort.

Two thousand workmen engaged in the paper factories of Mr. Louis De Naeyer were out of work. Charitable ladies, aided by Madame De Naeyer, of the Castle of Willebroeck, and assisted in the work by some of the Sisters, met daily at the Boys’ Public School and made ready a good, strong soup, which was dealt out in cans or pitchers to the destitute families of these poor workmen.

The paper factories, the Castle of Blaesvelt, belonging to a former Belgian Ambassador to Washington, whose wife was a native of that city, and the large and newly equipped breweries of the Erix families, were stripped of their machinery and made to serve as fortresses by boring holes through their walls for the reception of cannon and mettrailleusen (machine guns). The paper factory itself, commanding a good position near the bridge of the canal, was so arranged that it could be flooded at a moment’s warning; and this was actually done, as we were informed by the refugees in England, when the battle at the fortress took place prior to the fall of Antwerp.

During the progress of the campaign in the vicinity at that time, several occurrences affected, in a great measure, every aspect of daily life for the quiet residents of Willebroeck, and particularly for the Sisters, unaccustomed as they were to any participation in the affairs of the world, except such as were imperative for the direction and maintenance of their schools.

These were: First, the arrival of the Red Cross and wounded soldiers, some six weeks before our departure from Antwerp; second, the return of the army; third, the flight of the refugees; fourth, the daily increasing and ever nearer approaching roar of the cannonade.

One afternoon in the middle of August a large, heavy wagon was drawn into the yard. It bore the flag of the Red Cross on top, and on the side in great white letters the words “Military Hospital.”

In a few minutes a fleshy little gentleman, who at once distinguished himself as the “Chef” (chief), and a number of other gentlemen, about thirty-five in all, wearing white bands with red crosses on their arms, and long white linen coats over their uniforms, such as bakers sometimes wear, were seen hurrying to and fro, unpacking and carrying their various instruments and utensils to the operating room.

A military chaplain and four or more doctors accompanied the group. All except the chaplain were dressed in uniform. Several young ladies of Willebroeck, former members of our Boarding-school, dressed in white and wearing the head-dress and arm-band of the Red Cross, came next day and graciously presented themselves to aid in taking care of the wounded.

The services rendered by the Red Cross in time of war is simply inestimable. “When circumstances permit, there are three different posts or places where the wounded are treated,” said the village doctor who assisted in training the young lady volunteers to the Red Cross army. “The first post is only a few yards distant from the battle field and as near as possible to the firing line. This post is very dangerous. Only volunteers are sent there, as a rule. The members go out on the field in search of the wounded, amid the continual bursting of partially exploded shells. One careless step may cause serious wounds or instant death. Then again, after a battle has been fought, there is occasional shooting, even in the night; but the members of the Red Cross have consecrated themselves to the service of the sick and wounded soldiers, and God gives them strength and courage according to their necessities.”

When found, the wounded are brought into the first post on stretchers or in ambulance wagons, and only those attentions which are absolutely necessary are given. Then they are taken to the second post or hospital, where a more thorough examination takes place and the necessary operations are performed, which consist principally in the extraction of bullets, setting and amputation of broken limbs, etc.

Here they remain until they become convalescent, unless the number of wounded soldiers increases to such a degree as to prevent proper care being taken of them, in which case they are taken away to a third hospital, where they are supposed to remain until their wounds are entirely healed. Then they ardently desire, if not maimed, to return again to the front.

When a seriously wounded soldier is brought into the hospital, he is stripped of his clothing, wrapped in a sheet and carried to the operating room. This service is rendered by the gentlemen of the Red Cross. One or more of the lady nurses assist at the operation. If the soldier is mortally wounded and there is apprehension of immediate dissolution, he remains in the sheets and is lovingly cared for by these gentlemen until death occurs. Then the body is rolled in the sheet, placed in a coffin and buried the next day.

Coffins were provided by our village for the soldiers who died in our hospital. One day nine were carried away to the cemetery; another day, two; then one or two. Several were dead or at the point of death when they were brought into the hospital.

One poor factory woman came inquiring for her husband. We did not dare tell her that he died immediately when brought in, but left this sad task for Rev. Mother Superior.

On another day a woman and her daughter-in-law came from a great distance inquiring for her son, the young woman’s husband. Heart-rending was their anguish when they were told that he was already a week buried. These and numberless cases of like character indicate what war is, even when viewed from a favorable standpoint.

All the clothing of the wounded soldiers was carried at once to our new steam laundry, where it underwent a most thorough washing and disinfection. This clothing was, for the most part, stiff with mud, saturated with blood and badly torn. When dried it was given back to those in charge of the army. The Sisters and servant-maids performed this work. They were assisted by the women refugees of Willebroeck, whose houses were burned off on account of the fortress. Washing took place every day and continued until late in the night.

The condition of the poor maimed soldiers was sad to behold. One man, we were told by the Red Cross nurses, had twenty bullets in his body; another was pierced through the lung by a bayonet; one, aged twenty, lost an arm to the shoulder; one had only one or two fingers left on the hand; one was crazed by a bullet which touched the brain; another was shot through the mouth, the bullet lodging in the back of the throat. His case was especially distressing, his the most intense suffering of all. He lived for a week without eating, drinking or speaking.

Three wounded Germans were brought in, being picked up on the battle field by members of our division of the Red Cross. They seemed greatly distressed and afraid, positively refusing to touch food or drink of which the Sisters or nurses did not first partake. One was a German lieutenant, under whose direction, as he himself admitted, great damage had been done in one of the large cities. He was given the distinction of a bed among the Belgian officers. He was very ill at ease in their presence, in the beginning, but becoming reassured and observing the impartiality of Sisters and nurses, he desired to remain in our hospital rather than be removed to a third post.

One day we were called upon to witness a most sorrowful sight. A small farmer’s wagon drove up to the gate, bearing the lifeless bodies of two children, a girl aged eight and her brother, aged fourteen. The mother and a smaller child were also in the wagon. The mother related that they were taking flight as refugees. Seeing the enemy, they hastened to retreat, and were fired at by the soldiers. The children, who were in the back part of the wagon, were struck and wounded in a most frightful manner. The little girl’s face was nearly all torn off, and the back of the boy’s head had been shattered.

At the approach of Belgian soldiers, who fired at the enemy, the mother was enabled to pick up the lifeless bodies of her children, put them into the wagon and drive with them to our hospital, which was the nearest post.

These people were from Nieuwenrode, Province of Brabant. It was said that many German soldiers were in ambush, in this region, although no battle had occurred there. The Doctors Van Everbroeck and DeLatte, who examined the bodies of these children, stated that they were shot at a distance of twenty meters.

The mother, suffering greatly from the shock, and the remaining child were taken to the village hospital.

Flour, soap and washing soda were supplied by the Government for the use of the soldiers. The Sisters performed the work and used a great deal of their own provisions for the wounded. A large quantity of linen for sheets, gowns and hand towels, was supplied by the “Chef” of the Red Cross. The Sisters, when not engaged in other work, spent the time in folding, hemming and stitching these articles and in preparing surgical dressings for the wounded.

Several Sisters and at least two lady nurses remained in charge of the different wards day and night. The most perfect order and discipline prevailed. The wounded soldiers who were at all able to get around walked in the garden or rested and visited with their families, who came to see them.

The tender care of mothers for their children could not surpass the devoted kindness of the members of the Red Cross in their services to the wounded. Nothing that could be done to assist or alleviate their sufferings was omitted. The soldiers were to each other as brothers of one family. We have seen them carrying in, on stretchers, their weary, foot-sore comrades, and with the tenderest care take off the clumsy, muddy shoes, gently strip the blistered feet of the coarse stockings and, on bended knees, bathe and bandage them.

The first division of the Red Cross which came to our Hospital was with us about five weeks. One evening about seven o’clock, some time after Brussels had been occupied by the Germans, a dispatch came to the “Chef” commanding the Red Cross to leave Willebroeck at once and go to another station. Again there was hurrying to and fro. The large wagon was opened and everything hastily packed in. In the different wards the poor wounded soldiers, obliged to leave their beds, were sitting silent and motionless, while tears were in their eyes. Later in the night motor cars came and took them all away. The German lieutenant, on account of the condition in which he was found by the physicians, could not be removed at that time and remained until the departure of the second ambulance.

Preparations for the departure of the Red Cross continued most of the night. With the continual running back and forth, and the noise produced by taking up and laying down boxes and bundles, there was no rest to be obtained.

Before seven in the morning all the wards were empty. One or two soldiers, whose condition did not permit of their removal, still remained. All noise and commotion had ceased and the silence of death reigned in the house.

A day or two of repose would have been a welcome boon to the Sisters, who were much fatigued at that time. However, rest was impossible, as we obtained a message that another division of the Red Cross was on its way to our hospital. So it happened that all the rooms and various apartments had to be cleaned and rearranged at once. This work took place immediately. Two days later, although the pungent smell of disinfectants still pervaded the air, every ward was as neat and clean as if no wounded soldiers, no death, nor sorrow had entered there.

We did not know the cause of the sudden departure of the Red Cross, as the strictest secrecy was observed by the officers of the army; but we remarked a little later that this departure was necessary on account of the rapid advance of the fast-approaching enemy and the evident possibility of a heavy pitched battle at the fortress. In such a case the convalescent could not remain longer than was absolutely necessary. They were obliged to go in order to make place for the numerous wounded who were yet to come.

CHAPTER IX.
The Return of the Army.

A little after four o’clock one afternoon, shortly before the departure of the first division of the Red Cross, our attention was attracted by the heavy and continuous tread of cavalry and soldiers passing along the street. It was the Belgian army returning from a long and tiresome march.

Here was found a different kind of suffering from that which was ministered to in the hospital. Hunger and fatigue were stamped upon the countenance of each of these men, who, about a month before were industrious citizens at their daily occupations.

We saw them marching away in the early morning some time before, full of courage and patriotic zeal. For what reason they all marched off, or where they were going, we knew not; but were informed later by one of the officers that while on the march they had been attacked by the enemy, who were stealthily concealed, and fired into their ranks from both sides of the road. Several of the soldiers were killed and a large number wounded, but, having retreated promptly and in order, no great loss of life was sustained.

There were in the ranks priests, in their long black cassocks, wearing the arm-band of the Red Cross, who, as volunteer chaplains, had joined the army and were ever at the service of the soldiers on the march, and even on the battle field. We were informed that priests, and those preparing for the priesthood, were not obliged to serve in the army in times of peace; but, in case of war, they may be called upon to serve as military chaplains. When the present war broke out, hundreds of them joined as volunteers, marching in the ranks with the soldiers and undergoing their sufferings and hardships.

Many doctors rode along in motor cars. They were distinguished by a special dark-colored uniform, with a red collar and gilded trimmings. They also wore the arm-band of the Red Cross. Officers on horseback led each division of the army. The faces of all were disfigured with sweat and dust, while dust in abundance covered shoes and clothing. Some were staggering along, unable to walk straight, owing to the hard shoes and blistered feet. Hollow-cheeked, and with eyes which seemed to protrude from their sockets, they passed along, piteously imploring a morsel of bread.

Fortunately, the abundant supply of bread in the Convent had just been increased by the addition of forty of those immense loaves found only in Belgium. All of this was hastily cut, buttered and, with baskets full of pears, dealt out, piece by piece, to the passing soldiers, until, finally, only a small portion remained over for the supper of the wounded remaining in the hospital.

The servant maids went out to the village later in search of bread, but there was not a loaf to be found anywhere. All had been given to the soldiers. Two Sisters and one of the maids remained up all night. The oven was again heated and the usual supply of bread doubled.

Every large locale in the village from which, by the way, all non-resident refugees were obliged to depart, received the various divisions of the army which were allotted to them. About two hundred soldiers were assigned to those parts of our Parochial School unoccupied by the village refugees or not in use by the Red Cross.

Before the command was given to enter the schools, we saw soldiers, among whom were also priests, lying on the ground on the opposite side of the street, even as horses which, having run a great distance, fall down from sheer exhaustion. Some of these, we learned afterwards, did not have their shoes off in nearly three weeks. The socks, hard and worn out, were in some cases stamped into the blistered feet in such a manner as to cause excruciating pain. In some cases the feet were so painful and swollen that the patients had to be carried in on stretchers. In the meantime, several ambulance wagons had stopped at the school gate, and numerous wounded were carried in.

When finally one division entered d’Externat, a hasty search was begun for hay and straw. All that could be found was carried into the garret of the schools and the empty classrooms.

The refugees of Willebroeck were very generous to the soldiers, giving them all the provisions which they could find. Many soldiers were seen with pails in their hands in search of water. Of this there was a good supply on the place, and more could readily be obtained at the cistern which was connected with the canal. In a short time they were refreshed and cleansed from the dust and sweat of that long and tiresome march, and were observed sitting in groups on the grass which surrounded the school.

Soon after a large door, which one of the refugees carried away from his house in the village before it was burned, was found. This was laid on two small heaps of stone, so as to form a table. About half an ox was procured and a large part of it chopped into small pieces and put into a big iron kettle, which was then filled with water. The kettle was placed on a wood fire kindled in the garden, and potatoes and other ingredients put into it. After a time it began to boil in a lively manner, greatly to the satisfaction of those poor hungry men who were so patiently waiting for their supper. When this finally was ready, the knapsacks were opened and each took out a spoon and a small tin can, the cover of which served for plate, cup and saucer.

Probably the German General Staff failed to enjoy their bounteous supper that evening as well as did the poor Belgian soldiers their soup on the cool green grass. It must be remarked that each division was under the direction of an officer, who placed armed guards at the gates and passages. Perfect order prevailed. They talked quietly among themselves and remained strictly within the places assigned to their use; only once in a while one of them would knock at the kitchen door and ask for a can of water, which was soon understood to mean a can of cold coffee. This was never refused, and the grateful “Mercie” (thanks) was ample reward for the service rendered.

That night passed quietly. The soldiers had a good opportunity to rest on the hay and straw which had been provided. Some of them were astir at a very early hour. The large kettle was again placed over the fire and filled with water for the soldiers’ breakfast of bread and black coffee. Their only fear was that a message to depart would arrive before they would have a chance of “Coffie drinken” (drinking coffee, or breakfast).

At about eight o’clock one evening during the stay of the soldiers an excited group of eight men and two boys ran wildly into the yard through the gate, which had been left open for the soldiers not yet arrived. Great drops of sweat were on their faces. They were out of breath from running, and greatly excited. Some were bare-footed, having lost or thrown away their wooden shoes in the great haste to escape the enemy, who, they related, had entered a village three or four miles distant and had taken as prisoners a number of citizens and placed them in front of their own ranks. The boys had lost their parents in the confusion which ensued and were crying bitterly. They found a resting place somewhere in the schools that night and departed early next morning, because non-resident refugees were not permitted to remain after the arrival of the Red Cross.

The soldiers were called away several times for short intervals, after which they again returned for a rest. Thus the month of August passed. The frightful campaign progressed slowly but surely. Several times we had seen the hostile aeroplane, with its shining armor glittering in the sunshine, flying gracefully over our schools. How we then feared for our wounded, so helplessly lying within these same walls. One morning, about three o’clock, we were suddenly awakened by heavy, oft-repeated shooting, which seemed to proceed from the farther end of our garden. The alarm was caused by the appearance of an aeroplane soaring as a huge bird over the fortress. Mettrailleusen opened fire upon it, and the unwelcome visitor soon disappeared. However, we all feared its reappearance in the night. For this reason the towns and cities were kept in total darkness from eight o’clock in the evening, and searchlights illumined the dark clouds over and around the fortresses and other places of particular importance.

About this time we were informed that several thousand of the enemy’s soldiers were digging trenches and fortifying themselves on all sides of us. Every newspaper brought fresh tidings of most inhuman atrocities which filled the minds of the people with unspeakable horror.

In Belgium it was neither the German nation nor her soldiers, considered as a whole, who were held responsible for these awful outrages, because it was well known that there were among them many noble characters and Christians, renowned for their piety and fidelity to God and country, who were sacrificing their lives for what they thought to be a just and holy cause and whose families were also suffering and sorrowing at home.

It was alone, as should be known by everyone, the Godless element in the German army, led on and sustained by equally Godless officers, who encouraged, permitted and probably commanded those crimes, as we infer from the testimony of German wounded soldiers in our Red Cross hospitals. “If we do not shoot, burn and pillage,” said one of them, “we shall be shot ourselves.”

It seems incredible that any one claiming Christian convictions of any creed or country, could have acted as did the so-called barbarians who despoiled many of the most beautiful cities, towns and villages of Belgium.

CHAPTER X.
Anxious Days.

Early one morning, while passing through the yard, we heard what seemed to be peals of distant thunder. We looked around to see if a storm was approaching, but as the sun shone brightly and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, we soon realized what this dismal sound implied. On entering the Convent, we found several of our members standing by the map of Belgium, tracing the route of portions of the German army then endeavoring to force their way through to Antwerp.

The firing heard in the garden came from the bombardment of the City of Mechelen. The first attack did not continue so long, nor was the damage so great, as in the attacks which followed. The noise of the cannonade increased from that day forward. Hardly a day or night passed without bringing the unwelcome sound from one or the other direction. It often happened that, having retired at a late hour after a long and fatiguing day’s work, the short repose was interrupted by the explosion of bombs or cannon balls, which, although then at a safe distance from our village, was none the less terrifying.

In this most cruel war battles continued in the night as well as in the day. When time was asked by either army to remove the wounded, it was refused, because each mistrusted the motives of the other, thinking that, instead of removing the wounded, they would utilize the time thus gained in preparing for another attack.

About the first of September we went to Antwerp for a day or two. While on the train we saw the wires stretched from place to place, and heard explained the intended use of electricity at the fortress. Antwerp was at that time, still and peaceful, as a child who slumbered, feeling perfectly safe within her lines of fortifications. About eight o’clock in the evening every light had to be put out, and the place resembled a city of the dead.

On returning about twelve o’clock on Sunday, with the Sister who accompanied me, we found some wounded brought in, who were pierced by bayonets at a short distance from our house. Their condition was critical, but they recovered sufficiently to be taken to Antwerp within the following week.

A day or two later, while crossing the yard, we suddenly heard that sissing, crackling sound of a shell or bomb flying through the air in the direction of the church spire which towered above the walls of the Convent chapel. Several others followed in quick succession. All the convalescent soldiers who were in the yard, the Sisters and ladies in the garden, hastened to take refuge in the cellars.

We feared for the wounded soldiers within, who could not leave their beds. Soon the attack was answered by a heavy volley from the fortress, and the cannonade continued until early next morning.

A day or two later one of the refugees visited the place where the cannonade of the fortress had swept the entire region as if a tornado had passed over it. On returning he related that parts of human bodies hung on the trees and filled the hedges.

When the danger became imminent, the older Sisters and those who were ill, or in any way disabled, were advised by the Rev. Superior to seek refuge in the more secluded mission houses of the Community, and to all who desired, permission was given to do the same, or to return to their families for the time being. This was done on account of the inadvisability of any one’s remaining at the convent during a battle, since the buildings were in close proximity to the fortress.

Some of the Sisters packed their trunks and sent them to the homes of their families. This precaution did not avail much, as the families of many of our members had to leave their homes as refugees and probably lost all their personal property.

Although all were permitted to seek safety in other places, only the older members and two or three of the younger Sisters availed themselves of the opportunity. All save these gathered around the Superior and her assistant, and promised voluntarily to remain to the very last to assist in the care of the wounded, whose number increased daily since the arrival of the second division of the Red Cross.

On several occasions spies were arrested in Willebroeck and taken away. Some were arrested in Brussels and Antwerp in the garb of priests. It was authoritatively reported that supplies of weapons and ammunition, among which was dynamite, were found in public buildings in Antwerp, carefully hidden away in the basements. This aroused distrust on the part of the Belgians for the resident Germans, whom they had always treated with the greatest confidence and respect.

The result was that all the Germans then in Belgium were expelled from the country and had to return to their own land. This was, indeed, a hardship for the unoffending resident Germans, whose homes for years had been in the cities and towns of this little kingdom.

We retired at a late hour one night amid the incessant booming of cannon. Scarcely were our eyes closed when some one passed in the dormitory and knocked at each door. “Ave Maria” was the quiet greeting. “Deo Gratias,” the response. “What is it?” was asked. “The Germans have entered and are crossing the bridge,” was the reply.

With beating heart and trembling limbs, each sprang up and was dressed in a few minutes. In a state of great excitement, all stood in the hall ready to receive orders from the Superior, who had gone downstairs to make inquiries about the situation. At the first sound of the alarm a party of soldiers and their officer went out to ascertain the facts in the case, as the bridge where the enemy were said to be crossing was not far distant.

All the inhabitants of the village were on the alert. By the time the Sisters were ready to depart, the soldiers had returned, whose officer laughingly related that it was only a party of Belgian “Lanciers” in gray uniform, whom the Burgomaster of Blaesvelt had mistaken for German soldiers, and thought it his duty to spread the alarm.

All retired quietly to their rooms once more, but no one rested much the remainder of the night.

Then followed anxious days for the residents of Willebroeck, who expected momentarily to hear the alarm clock in the church tower give notice to flee for their lives. The officers of the Belgian army were very sanguine, and assured the Superior and those in charge of the wounded that timely notice would be given if the danger increased.

Nevertheless, the crackling of shells, the heavy cannonade from the fortress and field cannon, and the occasional proximity of those hostile aeroplanes, together with the reports of atrocities and destruction taking place around us, were fearsome in the extreme.

In striking contrast to the noise and commotion on all sides, was the calm tranquility which reigned in the chapel. The Sacred Heart stretched forth that same Fatherly hand which assisted the apostle sinking on the Sea of Galilee. The altar was still and solitary, but the little red light flickered in the sanctuary lamp and told of Him whose word alone stilled the winds and calmed the angry waves.

In the circumstances which then existed, one would almost envy the dead resting so quietly in the old-time vault, in the shadow of the tabernacle.

Lights were forbidden after a certain hour, but the moon shone through the stained windows and wrought fantastic designs on the gilded molding, while the mild and peaceful looks which characterize the images of the saints told of heroism and victories won on the battle field of life, in the pursuit of peace and sanctity, and carried the mind to that future and better life where neither the pride, avarice, nor ambition of man can ever destroy the eternal peace, nor break the impregnable union of hearts.

CHAPTER XI.
The Flight of the Refugees.

While the aforesaid events were taking place, sorrowful scenes were witnessed along the streets. Our attention and sympathies were particularly attracted to the flight of the refugees. In this case we could give no material assistance, as we were able to do in other cases.

For hours and days and weeks the doleful procession passed along the streets; a living stream made up of all ranks and classes of society. Here were seen the poor old farmer’s household, whose sons had gone to the front; and young married women, with small children in their arms or by their sides, whose husbands had to don the soldier’s uniform and go to the war. The sick, the old and the feeble were taken from their beds of suffering and, with shawls or blankets thrown over their shoulders, placed in carts or wagons and carried away, perhaps, to perish by the roadside. We have seen cripples and small children hurriedly driven along the street in wheelbarrows.

Packages carried on their arms, on their backs, or in little carts were about all that the poor people could take, and all that they desired, so confident were they of a speedy return to their homes.

On another day about the end of August, the unbroken line which filed through the street at noon was, without any interruption, passing through at twelve o’clock that night. As the cities, towns and villages were, for the most part, taken by surprise, or bombarded without having received any notice, the civilians had no alternative but to collect a few necessary articles of clothing, and in some cases a loaf of bread, and flee in haste from their homes, leaving crops, cattle, furniture and all their possessions to the fury of the flames and the tide of destruction, so rapidly sweeping down upon them.

Many people of the wealthier class, anticipating what was to come, had packed trunks and boxes with clothing and other personal property and sent them away to what was considered safe quarters. Then they moved away within the fortifications of Antwerp, where it was thought the enemy could not enter. Others, in the firm hope that the war would soon be over and that they would be able to return to their homesteads in a few days, left everything untouched and fled from city to village and from town to town. We met parties of acquaintances in Antwerp who had changed their places of residence nine times within one month, and then were obliged to leave Antwerp in a day or two.

Some let their cattle run loose in the meadows. These were shot down or taken by the soldiers, or appropriated by any one who desired.

It was most pitiful to see these poor people, whose only object was to get away as far as possible from the scenes of conflict. Some carried small loaves of bread; others had a little hay or straw in their wagons; some led a cow or two; others two or three pigs. In some of the carts we recognized faces of our former pupils, who only one short month before were longing for the pleasant vacation days. Their fathers or brothers were in the army, and their homes forsaken. Some children had lost their parents and were crying piteously. When the Sisters left the parish church, where they daily took part in the public devotions for peace, they were besieged by hundreds of these poor, half-frantic refugees, beseeching shelter over night in the church or schools, which were already full to overflowing. The days were warm and pleasant, but the nights were very chilly and sometimes rainy. Where would those poor people go and what could they do without food or shelter for all those little children? The friendly stars looked down from the realms above upon thousands who lay along the roadside, while others crowded the barns and country schools, or made rude tent-like shelters in the bed of the new canal.

This canal would have been opened in September with great festivities, over which King Albert was expected to preside.