I like her. She’s not as hard-hitting as Joe. I suppose I could come back and make a kind of secular retreat, an excavation! I’m here for J. M. I’ll ask Joe what he thinks.
I can hear him say, Keep an open mind. They were different, he would say.
Though it’s seventeen years since J. M. left, I feel self-conscious, and wonder what some of the other monks think. Do they know who I am?
Benedict says I must not worry. He wasn’t a criminal, he said.
Why did he use that word? He knows everything. But there is a kind of guilt I feel. Guilt can still be so pervasive, without particular reasons. Inherited? No, I’ve got my own measure of guilt. I’ve got my own reasons.
Who were the criminals?
We hardly talked about J. M., Aelred, as he continues to call him. Benedict wanted to know about me, and asked a lot of questions. Eventually, all the stuff about my divorce came out. He was surprisingly sympathetic, though not really approving. I felt that it gave us a certain equality in terms of virtue and sin. I don’t really feel good about it. Annette and I were young, too young, and did the expected thing. It didn’t work out, and it’s easier now. It was easier to do once my parents had died. Thank God there are no children. Makes it lonely, sometimes, up at Malgretoute. I will try again to draw Benedict out. I must find the right moment. It’s why I’m here, after all. I didn’t think Benedict wanted the whole thing dragged up again. I’m worried about his health. He’ll probably be very sympathetic.
Benedict brought me the letters which he found in the archives. So strange, so neat, so formal. I let myself cry for the first time. I didn’t even when Joe first showed me his room. I remember peeping over his shoulder at first drafts of that first letter to Ashton Park, not understanding anything then, and Ted looking over his shoulder too in the study hall. They got rid of me.
Skeidaddle, J. M. said.
Never rough, he ruffled my hair. I remember I always tingled for his attention. Then felt odd about getting it. Ted didn’t want J. M. to go. So many changes in what they thought they wanted and what they thought they should do. I don’t think I knew about anything that was going on. I must’ve known, or felt something. When it all broke, I was there. Of course I was. What am I saying? What am I hiding?
The letters don’t tell of that time.
PAX
St Maur’s College
Saint Pierre
Les Deux Isles
Antilles
British West Indies
6th May 1962
Dear Father Abbot,
My name is Jean Marc de la Borde. I am seventeen years old and I am a pupil at St Maur’s College, which is a boarding school run by the Order of our Holy Father St Benedict. I am at the moment completing my O Levels in English Language, English Literature, History (West Indian, but I have done British History), French, Latin and Mathematics. My teachers expect me to do well. I will be sitting my examinations in June of this year.
I am writing to you because I want to apply for admittance to the novitiate at your abbey, St Aelred’s, when I have completed my schooling. I have always wanted to be a monk, ever since I was a little boy when I made my first communion. Since then, I think I have had a vocation to the monastic life. First of all, I was encouraged by my parish priest, Dom Maurus who is a monk at the Abbey here, and then, since I have been at the school, I have been encouraged in my vocation by my English teacher and confessor, Dom Placid. I feel that I am at a stage now when I can make a decision to give my life to God. I want to join a monastery which devotes itself to manual work and prayer. I do not want to join the monastery here because I do not want to be a teacher. What I have read of St Aelred’s attracts me to the primitive interpretation of the Rule of our Holy Father St Benedict. This is the life I want to lead. I am attracted to the way manual work, study and the celebration of the Divine Office is described in your brochure. I want to lead the enclosed life.
I know that I am still quite young, but I am sure that I am doing the will of God. I hope you will allow me to enter the novitiate when I have finished my schooling.
Dom Maurus and Dom Placid would be very happy to give references on my account.
I look forward to hearing from you as soon as possible.
I remain,
Yours sincerely,
Jean Marc de la Borde
PAX
St Aelred’s Abbey
Ashton Park
Ashton
Somerset
Great Britain
12th June 1962
Dear Jean Marc, Son in Christ,
Father Abbot received your letter of 6th May with great pleasure and has passed it on to me as the novice master. He asks me to thank you and hopes that in God’s time he will be able to meet you, and hopes particularly that that will be as a postulant who knocks at the door of the Abbey of St Aelred asking for admittance.
I have noted both your desire to enter the monastic life and the age at which you feel that you have been called by our Blessed Lord. I must point out to you the rigorous nature of our life, which, though it gives great joy to the soul and adds to the power house of prayer in the world for the salvation of souls here and in purgatory, is nevertheless, or rather because of that, a life of abstinence in which you are asked to surrender your will to the will of God through obedience to the abbot as Christ on earth. It is a life lived in common with your brothers. This ‘conversion of manners’ is the way our Holy Father St Benedict describes the life of a monk. The life of poverty and chastity is assumed into that vow which I hope you will eventually make among us.
Our physical life is very hard. Father Abbot and I did think immediately of the warm climate from which you are coming. We notice your urgency to enter after finishing your schooling, but would ourselves urge you not to come in the winter, but more preferably in the spring or summer months. But we do not wish to dampen your enthusiasm and so would leave it to your judgement and that of your parents and directors.
I have written to your parish priest and spiritual director to get the references which are needed. I trust that all will be well, and as I have mentioned before, Father Abbot will have great pleasure to admit you among us.
Please accept my kind regards to your parents.
I leave you in the name of Christ and our Holy Father St Benedict.
God bless,
Father Justin Simmonds, OSB,
Novice Master
PAX
The Presbytery
Notre Dame de Grace
San Andres
Les Deux Isles
Antilles
British West Indies
20 June 1962
My dear Father Justin,
I’m an old man now, but, yes, of course I remember Jean Marc. He was a wonderful child with a marvellous mother from one of the good old families out here, who inculcated in her son from a very early age a special love for our Blessed Lord and his Immaculate Mother, the Blessed Virgin.
I christened the child in their village church. But it was when he first came to our little school next door to the big church, as we always call it, that I was able to notice him. He was always very devout, making daily, sometimes I think twice-daily visits to the Blessed Sacrament, if I recall my ever watchful housekeeper who kept a good eye on all the children. He was always at communion during the school Mass on Thursdays. Regular at confession.
Jean Marc, poor little fellow, was always remembered because he used to faint frequently, a slight physical weakness at the time, maybe not eating sufficiently at breakfast, having to come from the country into the town to school. Also, at times he was a little nervous, a little highly strung. This is not meant to detract in any way from a fine boy. As you see, the ramblings of an old man, father. But we do remember his faints because it was Mrs Goveia, my housekeeper that is, whom I’ve mentioned, who took especial care of the children, and who cared for him when he had one of these bouts and one of the school masters brought him to the veranda of the presbytery to
get some cool breeze and the master in his anxiety for the poor boy filled his own hat with water and doused poor Jean Marc. He soon recovered. It is very hot here. Mrs Goveia always made him a special lemonade with lots of good brown demerara sugar. But less of these tales, good father.
I’ve known of Jean Marc’s desire to give his life to Our Lord in the monastic life. I’m a little sad that he does not want to join our community here, but he is resolute on an enclosed life devoted to manual work and prayer. We are a teaching and parish community out here in the missions. It is inspiring to see such zeal in one so young. I think you will find him a devout young man who is open with his thoughts and feelings and thoughtful of his neighbours. He comes from a good Catholic family with a brother and sisters and a mother who is exemplary in her church work and duties as a mother, and a father who is a pillar of the church, as we say. He is from one of the very best families. Not that I wouldn’t recommend a boy from one of the poorest of our good Negro people.
I have no hesitation in recommending this young man to you.
I leave you in Christ,
Dom Maurus de Boissiere, OSB
Parish Priest
Malgretoute Estate
Nr Felicity
Les Deux Isles
Antilles
British West Indies
21 June 1962
Dear Father Justin,
Thank you very much for your letter, introducing yourself and conveying Father Abbot’s wishes. Please extend to him our best wishes, those of my husband and myself. It was very kind of you at all to write in this way. It makes us feel very much more in touch with the realisation of our son’s ideals. The whole tone of your letter makes us feel very secure that Jean Marc will get the very best advice in this enterprise of his. I say his enterprise, but maybe I should really say, God’s enterprise for him. I know that that is what he wants to do, the will of God for him. This we pray for each day. He is our eldest boy. We feel honoured and chosen for this great gift our Blessed Lord has bestowed on our son, to give him a vocation to leave all, father and mother, brother and sisters, home and country even (though of course we are only a colony, sadly to be given so called independence soon), and follow him. To tell you the truth, father, I am quite overcome at the thought of my boy, not quite my Benjamin, my Joseph, let us say, doing this, but of course I am absolutely prepared to support him in his ideals and to give him up as it were to our Blessed Lord, as Abraham was called upon to sacrifice Isaac. But as I said before, my husband and I are secure, after getting your letter that Jean Marc will be well advised. And I am sure if the day comes that he leaves us and finds a home in your community, he will be well looked after by wonderful older men like yourself.
His father, not a man to show his feelings much, is proud of his son and said to me this morning, and I quote, ‘My dear, if that English monk says that Jean Marc will make a good monk you can rest assured that he will, and with good discipline.’ My husband sees things so clearly.
Jean Marc is a good boy, father. Yes, he is devout, but you know, father - and I feel I must be open with you, because I know that you will understand and will know how to help Jean Marc - he’s still very young. He is quite emotional, and quite headstrong too. I think these qualities can be good if well directed, but can cause problems. I would never detract from my son’s character, but I feel I am talking to you, father, who will be his novice master and spiritual director, and who will have the care of his soul. I feel as if in giving him into your capable hands I am giving him into the hands of God. I know that you will understand me, father, when I write like this. I speak as his mother.
My husband asks to be remembered to you and Father Abbot.
So, father, in God’s time, if it his will, Jean Marc will be a son in your home as he has been here in our home.
I remain,
Yours sincerely and most gratefully,
Chantal de la Borde
PAX
St Maur’s Abbey
St Pierre
Les Deux Isles
Antilles
British West Indies
30 June 1962
Dear Father Justin,
Thank you for your letter concerning Jean Marc de la Borde.
I have known Jean Marc since he was a young boy of twelve and first came to our college. I have been his English teacher since then and his spiritual director.
I am fully convinced of the sincerity of Jean Marc’s vocation. My only regret is that he has not chosen to enter our abbey here, but I respect his desire for a more primitive interpretation of the Rule of our Holy Father St Benedict.
Jean Marc is young. While I think he can make this decision, and it is a big one, to leave his country and a very close family, he will need a lot of kindness and support. He is an emotional boy, pious, sometimes vaulting too high the hurdles on the course of the spiritual race. While his enthusiasm must not be dampened, he will need guidance to avoid consuming himself. He is fired by the lives of the saints, but can sometimes misinterpret the symbolic significance of these examples of spiritual attainment.
Jean Marc will adapt well to community life and values, and to the support a brotherhood like ours can give. He values friendship and has a generous heart, but should be advised very closely in this. There is a tendency to let his emotions get the better of him.
I fully support his application into your community. If I can be of any other assistance please do not hesitate to write to me.
In the fellowship of Our Holy Father St Benedict, I remain,
Yours sincerely,
Dom Placid Marcus, OSB
This was the official life. Of course, I’d never seen any of the letters; only that time, looking over his shoulder. I didn’t understand Ted’s anger, Ted’s sadness. One needs to read between the lines. I bottled up what I knew, twelve going on thirteen. Then I couldn’t any longer. They were such an exercise in euphemism, dear old Father Maurus mentioning his fainting. One must read between the lines. Was there a hint here, and a wink there? And Dom Placid’s letter, mentioning enthusiasm and friendship and need for counselling: there was nothing explicit. They all wanted so much for him; all so intimate and knowing at one level, and knowing nothing at the same time. He was himself so bland. And that letter written with Ted looking over his shoulder. No one knows. Well, some do know. Not even I know the truth, still. I know my own truth. I hadn’t always admitted it; tried to hide it away. I should’ve talked about it. He was too odd both times he returned, for the funerals of our mother and father. I think I knew what he was, but I didn’t want to admit it. Certainly, I didn’t want to talk about it. It made everything awkward. My truth, that’s what I have. That’s what I can go on.
There is the silence of directors, confessors, parents, lest they be scandalised.
I can only reconstruct, tell his story, use his words.
It was Joe’s letter which changed everything. It hurt me that it was Chantal that he wanted to write to.
19 St John’s Way
Bristol 8
Avon
England
15 March 1984
Dear Robert de la Borde
I have been a friend of your brother Jean Marc’s for years. I found your address among his things. I am sorry to be the bearer of sad news. Jean Marc died on 5th March in the early evening here at his flat in Bristol. He had been ill but said that it was not necessary to write to anyone in Les Deux Isles. He said he would if he felt up to it. I didn’t agree with him, but I respected his wishes. But now I think I must tell you of his death. He said that if he wrote he would write to your sister Chantal. I don’t have her address so I am writing to you. I have some things which belong to you. I was very fond of your brother. And please extend my sympathy to your sisters. I know that both your parents are dead. I enclose a phone number, 0179 412567, in case you want to call. Do get in touch one way or another. I will keep his things here for you. Please accept my sympathy and that of my sister Miriam, who also knew Jean Marc.<
br />
Best wishes,
Sincerely,
Joseph Gore
The Portrait
I am black but lovely…
Song of Songs
Once again, Brother Aelred was at his daily chores of housework between the hours of Prime and Terce. After he finished dusting the banisters on the first floor this morning, he paused to dust the frame of a painting which hung two or three steps down from the first floor to the mezzanine. The library was through the tall heavy doors off this landing. The painting was the portrait of a man dressed as an eighteenth-century gentleman of wealth, and presumably, as it occurred to Aelred, one of the early owners of Ashton Park before the monastery was built, and maybe, even the owner of the original house. There was gold lettering at the bottom. It was a name, but many of the letters had faded. He could decipher the word ‘Duke’.
But it was the small boy who knelt in a decorative manner at the duke’s feet who held Aelred’s attention as he wiped the glass and dusted the goldleaf of the frame. He was a black boy. As Aelred dusted and wiped the frame his mind wandered and his imagination mused as he stared into the wide open face of the black boy. He lost himself. He was Jean Marc again.
‘Jeansie, Jeansie, come boy, come nuh man, come and play cricket in the savannah, nuh man!’ It was Redhead from down in the village near Malgretoute. Ramnarine from the barracks was running behind him, pitching the cork ball into the air. He was bowling it up the gap to the big estate house. ‘Throw it, Jeansie,’ Redhead called.
After play, he waved goodbye. They hung back to talk at the bottom of the gap. He didn’t invite them up to the house.
‘Ei, Jeansie, let us come and play nuh man?’
He kept on walking up to the house. He waved from the high verandah.
‘I’ve got to go in. My mummy’s calling me.’
Aelred's Sin Page 5
