THE IRISH NUNS AT YPRES"
Tax connexion of Ireland with Belgium has been long and romantic; the names of Fontenot and Landen bear witness • The /rid Rune at rpm an &puede of Its War. By D. M.. C., O.S.B. ([ember of the Community). Edited by R. Parry O'Brien, LL.D. With an Introduction by John Redmond, M.P. WOk Dinstrationa. Landoll: Smith, Elder, and Co. [2a. ad. net..1 to it in history. One of the inciet interesting relics of the long association is the community of Irish nuns which for two hundred and fifty years has been maintained at Ypres. The simple and touching narrative before ns tells of the experiences of the none in the present war, of their suffering, of their quiet heroism, and of their eventual flight when the German shells were bursting in their convent. As Mr. John Redmond tells us in his introduction, the Dames Irlandaisee of the Royal Benedictine Abbey of Ypres trace their origin to an Elizabethan foundation. A Benedictine convent was established at Bruesels by Lady Percy, Lady Montagne, and Lady Fortescue, who themselves became nuns. Their system spread, and they made affiliations with Ghent, Dunkirk, and Pontoise. In 1665, as a result of this Benedictine activity, the Bishop of Ypres founded the Abbey at Ypres. In 1082 Lady Maria Cary was appointed Lady Abbess, and the com- munity thus became, and has ever since remained, distinctively Irish. The Abbey was legally made over to the Irish nation. The names of the Lady Abbesses have practically all been Irish—Butler, O'Bryan, Ryan, Mandeville, Dalton, Lynch, and so forth. Amongst the relics treasured at the convent were the famous flag, ao often mentioned in song and story, which the Irish Brigade in the service of the French captured at Ramillies; a voluminous correspondence with James IL; a large piece of lace worked by Mary Stuart; and a large portrait of James IL which he presented to the Abbey.
There have been so many and such various accounts of the capture of the flag at Ramillies that we may summarize what Mr. R. Barry O'Brien says on the subject in a note he has written for this book. According to the legend, the flag is a "blue flag"; but Mr. Barry O'Brien, who saw it in 1907, says it is not really a blue flag. Blue is only a part of the original design. The flag, it is thought, consisted of three parts—blue with a harp, red with three lions, and yellow— when it came into the possession of the nuns. The red and yellow parts were accidentally destroyed. The blue with a harp remains. The flag, says Mr. Barry O'Brien, suggests the Royal Standard of England. Probably the four parts of the Royal Standard were all there when the flag was new. At Ramillies the Irish Brigade under Lord Clare fought with extraordinary valour, but it is not known from what English regiment they taptnred the flag. According to some accounts, it was from the " Buffs." In any case, the flag seems to have been the " King's colour."
The Irish nuns living strictly within their enclosure at Ypres depended upon information from the outside for their knowledge of the advance of the Germans. On October 7th the people of Ypres were startled by the sound of guns not far from the town. What a picture of detachment from all the growing storm is conveyed by the words of the author "In the Monastery it was the spiritual-reading hoar, so we were not able to communicate our fears "1 The mum ran terrible risks of which they guessed nothing, for they inno- cently rang their bell for vespers after the Germane had arrived, not knowing that an order bad been issued that no bell was to be used. Some comic relief is provided by the nuns' man-servant, Edmund, who tempered hie attention to his task of fetching and carrying with intense inquisitiveness into the progress of military affairs. When the Allies had driven out the Germans the systematic shelling of the unfor- tunate town by the German guns began. The author records one strange episode. A German Taube was shot down by the Allies, and in the machine was found a plan on which the pilot had marked places to be @belled. One of the places was the chief square, which was crowded with thousands of British troops. On October 21st the nuns took to their cellars, and seem to have refused room to no one who applied for shelter. Soon the cellars were densely populated. Edmund became amusingly plaintive at this time about the disarrangement of the household routine; the nuns had buried their barrel of petrol., for fear that the shells might set it on fire and so burn down the convent. Nothing would satisfy the displeased Edmund till the barrel had been restored to its old position. Probably Edmund's coolness was a kind of strength to the community; be urged the nuns to stay on, since in his opinion the cellars were absolutely safe; yet finally, when shells began to drop into the house, Edmund rallied his employers upon not having gone sooner as—according to his account of the matter—he had advised them to do.
The whole narrative is fall of the small touches which
together make up a vivid and real picture. We note, for instance, that in the first few days of the bombardment people thought it worth while to send for the glaziers and have their shattered windows mended ! Then there is a reference— powerful in its simplicity—to the bewilderment of the nuns when events forced them into the tumultuous and crowded streets after having spent many years in their tranquil enclosure. It is of course recognized that war releases nuns from their vows to keep within their enclosure. The aged Abbess was conveyed to the comparative safety of Poperinghe accompanied by one of the nuns, who soon afterwards died of shock. The other nuns, presided over by the Prioress, stayed on, though most civilians bad already left Ypres. At last they departed in truly dramatic circumstances. The author describes their flight :—
"We then went through the outer church into the sacristy, locking the door of the grille behind us. There was but one more door which separated us from the °Maids world—one door more ! and we should be out of our enclosure, perhaps never more to return! There was a pause in our sad procession—the key was not there, Our Lord watched over us once more; for, had we then continued in our procession, some of us would inevitably have been badly hurt, if not indeed killed. After a few minutes' wait- ing, the key was brought, and already placed in the keyhole, when a loud explosion, accompanied by a terrific crash which shook the entire building, laid no all prostrate. . . . Bewildered, rather than afraid, we arose, and saw, through the window, a shower of bricks and glass falling into the garden. The first—though not the last —shell had struck our well-loved Abbey. We now realised that there was no time to waste. Already Edmund was screaming out from the other side of the still-locked door. Why don't you come ? I told you, you should have left long ago. The convent is struck! We shall all be killed if you don't make haste !' The door was opened, and with en indescribable feeling of horror, mingled with uncertainty, we went out. In the street we raised our eyes in one sad farewell to our beloved Monastery ; and there, out of the sell windows, principally that of Mother Prioress, a cloud of vapour and smoke told us of the passage of the shell; while the remains of the garret windows overhead and other debris of slates, bricks, wood and glass strewn on the pavement, proved without a doubt, that Divine Providence had truly intervened in allowing the little delay in the sacristy, but for which we should have been just on the spot when all this had happened."
As they passed through the streets, while houses were here and there falling asunder under the bursting shells, the nuns were helped by two Irish soldiers :— "One of us remarked to the soldiers : 'It is very kind of you to help us.' To our delight they answered, • It is our same religion and our !lame country: They were both Irish Catholics, one from Kerry, the other from Belfast. When we reached the out- skirts of the town they were both obliged to turn back, not having leave to quit Ypres. The Kerry man left us hurriedly ; but our man from Belfast ventured a little farther, though in the end he thought it wiser to return to his regiment. So we shook hands with him, and thanked him heartily, wishing him good luck and a safe return to dear old Ireland Our good Mother Prioress had a bag of pears in her hand, so she said to him 'Here, take these pears and eat them, and we will pray for you.' But he turned away, and said, 'No, no, keep them for yourselves.' Here the poor fellow broke down and cried. He hurried away, waved his hand, and wished us God-speed."
Perhaps the most remarkable thing in the narrative, and certainly the finest proof of the courage of the nuns, is the account of the return of three of them to Ypres to visit the rained Abbey. It has been related that a soldier once described Gordon as being "one of those Christian chaps who don't mind being killed." We have not often come across a better example than this book supplies of spiritual ardour expelling physical fear. Reaching the outskirts of the town, the three nuns found such a bombardment going on as might have caused the oldest soldier to quail :—
" Wondering as to how we should succeed, we came across an English sentinel, and so asked his advice. He told us that he thought there was no chance whatever of our getting into the town. He said that he himself had been obliged to abandon his post on account of the shells, that the troops in the town had been ordered to leave, and that those coming in had been stopped. (We now remembered having seen a regiment of French soldier. setting out from Poperinghe at the same time as we had done, and then they wereeuddenly stopped, while we went on and saw them no more.) Despite what the sentinel told us, we remained unper, suo.ded. Seeing several soldiers going in and out of a house prat opposite, we thought it would be as well to ask a temporary shelter till the bombardment should lessen."
They anteceded in visiting the wrecked convent—since, we believe, entirely demolished—and then returned to Poperinghe, whence they were able eventually to come to England. We must end with a delightfully characteristic incident which
occurred as the three nuns were emerging for the last time from Ypres "We came up with a British cavalry regiment. They were coming from the trenches. They looked at us and shouted: •Who are you, Sisters, and where do you come from?' Dame Columban answered: We are English nuns from the Benedictine Convent of the Rue St. Jacques.' This was too much for Dame Patrick, who called out 'We are no such thing. We are /risk Bene- dictines ! ' 'Irish,' shouted half a dozen of them, • and so are we, and they all began singing, 'It's a long way to Tipperary,' and thus escorted, we took a long, last look at the dear old town."
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