Once I was in the “Lady Chapel,” decorating the shrine, and the bell rang before I had cleared the faded flowers away. By _rule_ I dared not leave them, and by _rule_ I dared not clear them away, and of the two evils I chose to clear away the faded flowers. Soon the Lady Prioress of Llanthony came down, looked at me, and then slammed the doors, which shut me out of the nun’s choir. I was afterwards reproved by the Superior, who said to me:
“Sister Agnes, if you go on in this way very much longer, you will find yourself at last where you are now, outside the doors of heaven, with the gate shut.”
The truth is, a nun’s obedience must be blind in its character; there must be no waiting to consider consequences, for by her vow she has renounced all claim to herself, and should the Superior command her to do what she believes to be even wrong and sinful, it is her duty to simply obey without a question, since the responsibility rests rather upon the Superior who gave the command than upon the nun who obeys it. In obeying a Superior, a nun is more sure of doing God’s will than if an angel came down from heaven to give a command, seeing that Satan can transform himself into an angel of light; but there can be no possibility of mistaking the Superior’s voice! (so we were taught).
Obedience to God being the only sure road to heaven, such obedience,[10] for a nun at least, can only be rendered pleasing and acceptable to God through the channel of her Superior; so, without strict obedience to the Superior, there can be no hope of heaven. Thus a nun must act as one who is not responsible to God for her actions! I pity the Superiors, who have not only upon them the weight of their own sins, but also that of all the nuns under their care! They have yet to learn that salvation is not the reward of man’s obedience, but the free gift of God, by faith, without works.
I had been in the convent now for some eight years, striving after perfection; but a wearisome task it was, ever striving to observe all the minutiæ of convent rules, ever confessing every little deviation from the three vows aforementioned. I had been taught that baptism had made me a child of God; that original sin had, by virtue of that rite, been taken away; but that, subsequently, if I wished to retain God’s favour, I must confess every sin of omission and commission, in thought, word and deed; and that should I conceal wilfully any matter, however trivial, my eternal salvation would be endangered by any such concealment. It is perhaps difficult for those who have never been under such a hard yoke to imagine the mental torture such a system creates. I was often filled with fear lest I had not remembered _everything_, and it is no easy matter to look back through a whole life and lay everything bare before God, in the presence of a man, whom we are told to forget entirely, and think we are but repeating everything to God, who knows all beforehand, but who wills that we should come to Him in this way; and whatever shame is felt in thus opening our hearts and all its windings, must be accepted willingly as a small suffering for our sins. Sometimes a matter seems so silly or trivial that one thinks it not necessary to confess it. But the very fact of not wishing to confess it proves it to be wrong, and therefore it must be confessed. For years I went thus to confession, conscientiously and scrupulously declaring the whole of my inner and outer life. Thus did I strive to find the peace I so longed for, and I must say I did enjoy a certain satisfaction of mind until I inadvertently broke some convent rule. A sin of anger would be mortal; and had I died without confession of this sin to a priest and obtaining absolution, there would have been very little, if any, hope of my soul’s salvation. I would often confess, and weep tears of real pain and bitter sorrow at my ingratitude to God, after His wonderful condescension in calling me into the “Religious Life,” while so many who possibly would have grown far holier than myself were left in the world, never even having the opportunity of gaining so bright a crown, or of being so near to Jesus hereafter. I would resolve and pray that I might never do anything wrong against rule (the rule is the nun’s guide to perfection, it being the only way that God intends her to reach perfection) or anything else; and to attain this perfect state, I would often spend my recreation and sleep time in making novenas to the blessed Virgin, reciting the Rosary and Litany of the blessed Virgin, or in invoking the saints; but they never seemed to answer me, and even when I redoubled my efforts, I sought their help in vain.