We begin to enter the heart of the building
by passing through two doors that are opened
with a key hanging from a strap attached to
the monk's leathern girdle. My guide is
one of the five or six who, out of all those
eight-and-forty men, are allowed the sweet
solace of speech, and that only so far as the
duties of his office demand. Of the other
Trappists who may talk, the Superior has
unlimited discretion: the agent, who buys
and sells, and transacts business, has also
considerable liberty. The supposition is not
correct that the body conventual of Trappists
are forbidden by their vows ever to utter a
syllable. They may all address the Superior on
proper occasion. When at work they may
say a needful word to the servant or the
farmer, or even whisper into the ear of a
brother; but all conversation amongst
themselves, or anything approaching to it, is
equally contrary to the spirit and the rule of
the order. The porter, turning towards me as
we entered the passage, said—in a voice which
had hardly a tone—that if I had anything
further to mention, I had better do so now,
as within the house silence must be observed.
Afterwards, in the courts and in the garden,
we could again resume our chat.

While proceeding a door opened into the
passage, and a monk with a wooden leg
coming out, bowed to me without turning in my
direction, but with a smile and a half glance
of his eye; and immediately went on his way.
On entering a room at the end of the passage
(which had to be unlocked), the occupant
bowed with the same half side-glance, and
continued his occupation of folding linen
vestments exactly as if no one were present. I
left. He responded to my parting bow without
looking or even turning aside, and the
door was fastened again upon him. He had
himself unlocked it again for a moment;
and therefore, though locked in, he was not
confined there. The next apartment was what,
in any other establishment, would be styled a
drawing-room. A bench ran round it against
the wall, and along its whole course there
were shelves containing a few volumes; which
were, without any doubt, books of devotion.
At the upper end were raised seats for the
Abbot and the Prior. Of cushion, carpet,
or other means of ease, not the slightest
shadow was perceptible. The dining-room,
or refectory, was arranged with equal
simplicity. At the upper end the same
dignitaries were located upon a slightly elevated
dais; while around, plain wooden tables
uncovered by a cloth stood before seats like
those in the drawing-room. The place of
each monk was marked by a mug, a pot, and
a water-jug, fashioned of coarse glazed
earthenware; and, upon the napkin containing a
wooden spoon and fork with a clasp-knife,
lay a wooden label bearing the conventual
name of the owner.

Every Trappist, on taking his vows, ceases
to be known by his worldly style and title.
He becomes Father or Brother Aloysius,
Hilarion, or Benedictus, according as he
chooses his patron saint; dropping for ever
afterwards the names given to him by his
father and mother. A register of noviciates
and professions is kept, so that all trace of a
man is not entirely lost; but, without making
a reference to it, there is no means of guessing
who any individual monk may be.

In summer, the Trappists eat two meals
a day, in consequence of doing extra work.
In winter, they have but one meal and a
half. Meat is forbidden, except in case of
illness; fish, eggs, butter, and poultry are
utterly interdicted viands. Their diet
consists of bread, cheese, vegetables and fruits,
which they cultivate in their own garden.
Cherries, pears, strawberries, and currants
are produced in abundance. Their drink is
water, and a pint of good light beer at each
meal, or two pints a day. None of the
Trappists whom I saw appeared the worse or the
weaker for this abstemious regimen. During
meals, one of the community reads aloud some
edifying book from a pulpit in the dining-room.

The dormitory is upstairs. It is a large
airy apartment, fitted up with a series of
wooden cabins in the centre, leaving a passage
all round. Over each cabin is ticketed the
adopted name of the occupant, and the
entrance to each is veiled by a screen of canvas,
which is drawn aside in the day-time for
ventilation's sake. Each bed-place contains
simply a mattress, a blanket, and a coverlid;
sheets are not thought necessary. The monks
retire to rest without undressing, and sleep
exactly as they are attired in the day, in
order, I was told, to be able to rise more
quickly at the proper hour of waking. They
go to bed at eight o'clock, and get up
ordinarily at two in the morning; on Sundays at
one, and on fête days at midnight; to perform
the prescribed religious exercises. To make
up for this scanty allowance of slumber, they
are allowed, during summer and while working
hard, an hour's repose in the middle of
the day. A large bell and a powerful rattle
hanging close to the dormitory are evidently
used to give the signal when the moment for
rising arrives. Their dress consists of a
coarse brown cassock with a pointed hood,
an under-garment, breeches, cloth stockings,
and strong shoes. In these habiliments they
are buried after death, without being laid in
any coffin; that posthumous luxury being
considered an unnecessary vanity: the hood is
merely drawn over the face, and the earth is
then shovelled in over the body. Whatever
may have been the discipline of other
convents in former times, it is not true here and
now that every day each Trappist monk digs
a portion of his own grave. The cemetery is
in the garden, and has ample room for fifty
graves at the foot of an artificial mound, or
Calvary, on the top of which rises a lofty
crucifix bearing a wooden image of the