The Nun’s Story
by Kathryn Hulme
***
It wasn’t until I read Kathryn Hulme’s 1956 fictionalized version of the life of her friend Marie Louise Habets, The Nun’s Story, immediately
after Somerset Maugham’s The Moon and
Sixpence, that I was struck by the similarities between the life in a
religious order and life as a dedicated artist.
image: wikipedia |
As depicted by Hulme, Habets
(known as Sister Xaverine during her time as a nun) learns to lead a life of
simplicity, indifference to physical comfort, and renunciation of natural
family ties to follow her vocation. Maugham’s narrator relates such similar
details in his 1919 novel based on the life of painter Paul Gauguin, you’d
almost think he was following the rules of the Sisters of Charity of Jesus and Mary, the order Habets joined in the decade following publication of
Maugham’s novel.
The rules, that is, with more attention
to attire, and considerably more to chastity.
“The bravest of the emotionally
vulnerable were the sisters who stood up together . . . (and confess) having
gone out of their way to be near to one another, or perhaps for having talked
together in recreation in a way that excluded others. Their tormented but
clearly spoken disclosures of a nascent affinity gave it the coup de grace
which they themselves might not have been able to do, for the entire community
would henceforth see to it that these two would be kept far apart. . . ”
Eerily, the emotional detachment
demanded by the religious rule echoes that of Maugham’s protagonist from his
lovers, a detachment, however, which didn’t prevent physical consummation in his case.
(After leaving her order, Habets
would become the recognized partner of Hulme, although without publicly
admitting to their possible sexual relationship. But that’s leaping very far
ahead in her story, which begins in the late 1920’s, when she, and her
fictionalized alter-ego Sister Luke, first enter religious life.)
image: wikipedia |
“It was odd to be thinking about
Lourdes,” Sister Luke reminisces as she first dons the garments of her new
life. She had been a nursing student – the only lay student chosen from her
training school to escort a group of patients from Belgium to the shrine where
an apparition of the Virgin Mary had appeared in the mid-19th
century near the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. The site soon
acquired a reputation for miraculous healings.
There were some physical cures, a
skeptical Gabrielle Van Der Mal (the nascent Sister Luke) admitted, but what
surprises her most is the happiness of the patients after their return.
“That is the real cure,” says her
nun-supervisor, Sister William.
“And then Sister William had
given her sleeve a little tug in the discreet manner of the vowed, who. . .
must never lay hands one upon the others," Sister Luke remembers. "The pull at her sleeve had been
more unusual than Sister William’s teasing words, for it was the
attention-drawing language of nun to nun, than of nun to lay person. As if I
were one of them. . . And now she was one of them.”
But she still has far to go,
often finding herself straining against the order’s toughening rules.
“It is almost an exaggerated
thing, she thought, this discipline. It is surely more than any of us could
ever need in the safe communities where we shall be. . . She could not know
then, on that summer day in 1927, that in little more than a decade their
ordered world would rock and twist like the epicenter of an earthquake and that
the walls she imaged would always protect them would crack in many places and
fall in heaps of rubble to the ground.”
(Next Friday, Adventure classics
continues a December of adventures of the spirit with Kathryn Hulme’s The Nun’s Story.)
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