The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 7, 1906, Page 21

he LAY MILLIO N AIRES O FF EUROPE BECOME MONKS IN LARGEST MONASTERY IN THE VWORLD Members of Princely Families Join the Order of Carthusians Located in England. Mode of Life of the Middle Ages Within a Couple of Hours’ From the Most Populous City of the Present Day. Special Dispatch te The Call LONDO; estant y books or do anything that might claim | for them worldly recognition heir | one effort seems to have been to e: been devoted Their lives have - 1 world: for a si plation, and liv dead to nments may T g i world. pass away; lely silent Kings and dynas- Ride —g pouB P - ! SCENES FROM THE LARGEST MONASTERY IN THE WORLD, LOCATED IN ENGLAND, ir riches, whether in oney, to be used by and given up tk estates or rder. brought n doing the com- e peasantry of one in the partici- arrange- the simp- had the site for extends O I Ny m o ch £ from rajilway tion, It Partridge Green, fourtee € from Brighton and abc ours’ ride from London. ¥ k in the days St. Bruno, hundr ars ago, monks of the C r found themselves re- tre: es, and the rey in 1 have m their nd unknown as if and most CUT OFF FROM THE WORLD. It is, however, rather remarkable s great monastery has not beern wr t in this age of publicity. P: of its seclusion h. been obtainel by the fact that the order has made no effort to take part in dny move- ment of this age. Its members do not teach schools or till the soil or write community, | ties may be disrupted; London mignt be in flames; the close religious comn- | munity at Partridge Green would know nothing about.it; or, if they did, would take no notice. one of the beliefs of the Car- at this particular momastery re doing an immense serv- worid in general by their life of prayer and self-abnegation. In | a book written by one of their mem- bers the distinct claim is made that if they ceased from their prayers for a moment the end of the world would |come. To quote this writer's own words “If to-morrow our lips were closed, it our discouraged hands were let fall to the ground, if we gave up the pain- ful paths of penance, the world would be carried away like a blade of grass by the storms of divine vengeance.” MEMBERS SELDOM SPEAK. The rigors of life in this community are not easily borne. Now and then these men speak to each other—on rare festi- | vals ana saint days; but the rest of their time is supposed to be spent in the study | of theological problems. Every object | dear to nmature must be given up, every © | tie of affection that binds one to friends | ana relatives must be broken. Even in death, one must be willing to be buried like a common pauper, Or even worse, for it is said that in their burials the strangest of practices prevail. Bach body, after death, undergoes a species of post-mortem crucifixion. The body is not placed in a coffin, but is nailed to a board in imitation of the death of Christ, and buried in a nameless grave, marked solely by a black wooden cross. The graveyard itself occupies a little cen-' tral square in the midst of the monas- tery grounds, in plain sight of every one passing daily to and fro. This is done to remind the living of their end, and to further detach their thoughts from every- thing worldly. From the little village of Partridge Green one drives to this Carthusian mon- astery through a rather bare looking country and finally reaches the forest in which is concealed the great cluster of monastic buildings. These ' number sixty, form a hollow square, and are so ell hidden by surrounding woods that ne does not realize their vast extent until he has walked around them. WOMEN ENTIRELY BARRED. Facing the roadway, a church-like building forms the entrance of the mon- astery. A huge conical door, forbidding in appearance, bears the notice: “Ladies are never permitted to visit the monos- tery on any account.” A metal bell-pull of quaint design hangs outside, and a jerk upon this sends a bell jangling in a sep- ulchral passage, as if the sound were at the bottom of a well. Presently, a small door cut inside the big one opens and a silent monk, clad in flowing white robes, his head shaven ciean, beckons you within. ° The reception room ‘on the left is opened with a great key and you are ush- ered into an apartment which boasts a deal table and a straight-backed chair and a floor as bare as a tombstone. The monk locks you in the room, and after half an_ hour's wait the key again grates in the lock and you are beck- oned to follow once more. You do not know whether it is the same monk or not, for a huge and all-enveloping hood hides his face, as he proceeds down a long, dingy passfige and unlocks sev- eral doors as he goes along. Across a small courtyard, planted with cedars and which gives the {mpression of an abandoned graveyard, saving that it ‘is kept in order, a really splendid church of the cathedral type comes into view. Inside this edifice, the costliest of decoration . is in.evidence. Wealth run- ning into thousands of dollars seems to —pe | DUKE GIVES PLACE TO A RELATIVE Marlborough’s Office Goes to Winston Churchill. h to The Call Spectal Disp LONDON, J Churchill sue- formation of a have been lavished everywhere—magnifi- cent stained glass windows; exquisite al- | tar tapestries, and truly fine mural dec- | orations present a remarkable contrast { to the severity of the rest of the build- ings. Inside this church you see one or i two monks prostrated in silent praver: their cowls drawn over their heads. | Everything is silént, and-the effect is one of awe and grandeur. CEREMONY AT MIDNIGHT. | It is In this church that, at twelve each night, is held one of the weirdest and most impressive of religious ceremonies. Just at midnight the great bell of the monastery begins tolling, and white-robed figures sweep silently down the long cor- ridor. 'Each carries a tiny lamp. taken from its stand in front of his crucifix. and wends his way along the cloisters, past the graveyard, to the church beyond. When every member of the community is in his allotted place the tiny lamps are extinguished. The only light remaining is that of the sacristy lamp hanging in front of the altar. This lamp sheds a red glow .over the bending figures of the monks; their white garments seeming tinged with fire here and there. Swaying their bodies slightly to and fro they begin a strange; weird chant which approaches almost a wall. One side of the church takes up the song and the | other answers, and thus the curious chantl goes on for two hours without interruption. = At the end of that time the tiny lamps are again lighted by a lay brother, and. the monks in perfect silence, and without speaking a word to | each other, find their way back along the | narrow passages, each going to his own cell. Thus the Carthusians expiate, as they claim, the sins of the world. At 6 o'clock they agatn arise to prayer; but at this time each monk says his pray- | ers in his cell. The booming of the great beli in the clock tower sets the time for the beginning of each occupation and prayer. All the monks in the monastery are engaged in the same prayers at the same time throughout the numerous buildings, and thus again a peculiar form of religious worship, all praying together but apart, is performed. This form of cell devotion is peculiar to the Carthusian order, which has practiced it from the earliest times. EACH HAS FOUR-ROOM ‘CELL. Each monk has a cell of four rooms to himself. The door to the cell opens upon a stone-paved private hall forty feet in length, at the bottom of which is a short flight of stome steps. These lead to the two living rooms of the recluse. The first room you enter is a reception-room, with the exception that there is nothing in it by way of furniture to make the guest at home. A single straight-backed chair constitutes the seole furniture of an apart- : ment about twelve feet square. A single picture, a religious subject, hangs on the wall. t The first room leads into a second. This is the monk’s “sanctum sanctorum,” holy of holies, his bedroom, praying-room, writing-room and dining-room. Placed inside a svecies of cupboard, and hung about with curtains, is a bed. tress is made of straw: and the bed is covered with coarse blankets. The mat- |. stand, surmounted with a great crucifix. On the opposite side of the room from the bed, and near the tiny window which lets light into the apartment, is a rude desk. | Some works dn theology and rules of the order are seen on the, shelves. { On the floor below the living-rooms are | two workrooms, fitted up as a carpenter | shop. Every conceivable tool is found ’hers, wen a first-rate turning lathe. This | workroom enables the monk to take | proper exercise. He is not required to make anything in particular with his tools, but he usually spends his time in | the workshop in making some object of | devotion. He also chops his own fire- wood down In the carpenter shop. This workshop is the principal means of keep- ing the monks in good health; for, nearly all their lives are spent in the cell, or rather the four-roomed flat with privatc hall, they must do something to keep themselves heaithy. MAGNIFI T LIBRARY. The Carthusian monks do not even g0 out to meals, but each repast is brought to the cell and pushed through a specles of trapdoor. This operation is performed in silence, neither the one bringing the meal nor the recipient saying a word. The meal is brought in three separate cans, like a work man’s dinner pail. The bottom can contains soup, the second fish, the third two kinds of vegetables and some fruit. A bottle of wine is also served with the dinner. No meat is eaten, the Carthus- jans being strict vegetarians. Concerning the vegetarian diet the strictest rules prevail. Even if a monk is. dying and meat should be ordered by a doctor it is not given. In the early ages of the order one of the Popes tried to persuade the Carthusians to relax their abstemious diet, but a depu- tation” walted upon him and succeeded in persuading the Pope that vegetables were the very best possible food. To- day all the monks are hearty and ro- bust looking, and their health certainly speaks well for their form of diet. One of the most striking features of the monastery is its fine library, which occupies a handsome apartment. All the books are beautifully bound, and there is evidence of great taste and the expenditure of a large sum of money on the appointments of the room. Just back of the library is a private chapel, in which are the relics of many well authenticated saints. The wax fig- ure of a saint is shown underneath the altar in this room and immediately be- low it his skeleton reposes in a glass case. Near this room are some won- derfully painted pictures showing the martyrdom of certain Carthusian friars in England during the times of perse- cution. The scenes are revoltingly realistic, the very walls seeming to drip with blgod. Another picture in a side room shows a row of monks hanging by chains to the wall, the scene being painted so realistically that it is war- ranted to haunt the recollection of any one who has seen it Altogether it might truthfully be sald that this monastery, which has been in existence about thirty years, is one of { At the foot of the bed is a kneeling- as | | good looks, Liberal Ministry has resulted in the retirement of the Duke of Marlbor- ough from the office of Under Secretary for the Colenies and his brilllant cou- sin, Winston Churchill, has stepped into the vacant post. The salary is $7500 a year. The Duke didn't need the money, thanks to the millions which his marriage to a Vanderbilt brought him, but Winston Churchill stands in great need of it. It is said that Winston Churchill's American mother, Lady Randolph Churchill, as she is generally known, despite her second marriage to Corn- wallls West, once remarked that her son had inherited the brains of the family, while the Duke had inherited only the title. This remark, when re- peated to the Duke's American wife, caused strained relations between the two ladies for a time. It was hardly fair to the Duke. Winston Churchill certainly is brainy, but the Duke has considerably more than the average share of abil- ity. He tries to make the best of it. He cannot be included in that.inglori- ous brigade known as the titled loaf- ers. He has worked hard at the Colonial Office, and when a young man with a big pile who has never been trained in business does that it means that he has some remarkably’ good stuff in him. He has won the good will of his subordinates, too, and they are sorry to see him go, fearing that they will find his more strenuous suc- cessor much harder to get along with. It is sald that Commodore Vanderbilt did not have much use for a peer on general principles, but were he alive it is believed he would admit that his granddaughter’'s husband has panned pretty well for a Duke, Petticoats count for much mors y politics here than they do in Americ and with a general election impend ing, Lady Randolph Churchill is pre- paring a bevy of fair damsels for the fray by coaching them in the ways and wiles of electioneering. She is a past master of the art, for she did a lot of canvassing for Lord Randolph Church- ill and knows how to win votes and at the same time steer clear of the drastic English laws against bribery and corruption. In many West End drawing-rooms meetings are being held at which ex- pert electiomeering agents explain to pretty political Amazons the gentle art of wooing the susceptible British voter at first hand. It Is now quite the fash- fon for wives and female relatives, es- pecially those who are endowed with to accompany candidates when they make addresses on public platforms. Their presence serves not only to attract wavering voters. but restrains host'le electors from signify- ing their disapproval of tiie candidates by means of vegetables and ancient eggs. -_— the strangest institutions in the world. Situated in the midst of Protestant England, the monks live the life of the middle ages, absolutely oblivious to the surrounding world or the progress of the most wonderful of the centuries.