Not more than three miles from the camp was situated the convent of the Sisters of the Cenacle, a beautiful three-story building of red brick and stucco hidden away among great hemlock, spruce and cypress trees. It is a kind of rest house, where at certain seasons of the year retreats are given for ladies, who come from different parts of England and pass a week at the convent.
All during the war there was an open invitation to the Catholic soldiers of Bramshott Camp to visit the convent on Sunday afternoon and assist at Benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament.
There were three or four different ways of going to Grayshott, near which the Convent of the Cenacle was situated. One of these was a foot-path which led first through a moor, covered in summer with purple heather, then through bracken, almost as high as an average man, and bunches of green gorse bushes that blazed light yellow at certain seasons with flowers resembling in shape the sweet-peas. It was a quaint little path, passing on its way “Wagner’s Wells” a chain of what we on this side of the Atlantic would call ponds, in a low, wooded valley. In summer these were very pretty when the full-leafed branches of the trees hung low over the Wells, and the water was almost wholly hidden by tiny white flowers that rested on the surface. All during the war, on Sunday afternoons, a long, irregular line of khaki-clad figures went leisurely along the foot-path to Grayshott, passed scenery strange though pleasing, mounted quaint rustic stiles till they came to the convent of the Sisters of the Cenacle.
The first Sunday I visited the Convent there were so many soldiers present that the little chapel could not contain all. I learned afterwards that this had happened so frequently that, in order that all might be present at Benediction, the good Sisters had asked for and obtained a general permission to have the services on the lawn just in the rear of the chapel.
Benediction was given by a little Belgian who was doing chaplain’s work among the Canadians at Bramshott, while Father Knox, a recently converted Anglican clergyman, led the soldiers in singing the hymns. Little red hymn-books, which the English government had supplied the Catholic soldiers, were passed around to each soldier. It was a beautiful sight there on that English lawn, as all knelt grouped together, officer and soldier, priest, sister, while the white Host was raised to bless us all. Then the lads sang strongly and clearly that beautiful hymn, “Hail, Queen of Heaven,” that was sung so often during the war under many different conditions. The Irishmen sang it as they advanced to take a difficult position that the English had failed to take at Féstubert.
The Sisters dispensed hospitality; large teapots of tea and plates stacked high with thin slices of bread and butter, and baskets of thick slices of yellow cake with currants in it. Then in the evening the soldiers walked back to camp through winding foot-paths and over stiles.
I am sure there are many men scattered over the country who will remember gratefully the Sisters of the Cenacle at Grayshott. It must have inconvenienced them greatly, yet Sunday after Sunday, all during the war, soldiers went to the convent, and always the Sisters treated them most hospitably.
On Sundays, when the number of men present was not too large, Benediction was given in the Sisters’ chapel. It was a very pretty little chapel and on the altar, day and night, the Sacred Host was exposed for perpetual adoration; and always two Sisters knelt to adore. On the Gospel side of the altar stood a beautiful statue of the Blessed Virgin which was almost covered with the military badges worn by soldiers of the different battalions. In some way known to women the good Sisters had draped a mantle about the statue, and to this was pinned the badges of these modern knights.
After Benediction the lads would all come to a large room where tea would be served. Often among the little khaki-clad groups a Sister of the Cenacle would be seen standing, or sitting, listening to the stories told of the country far away across the seas. The Sisters wore a black habit, a small purple cape which reached to the elbows, and a white cap covered by a black veil, except for a one inch crimped border around the face. Sometimes, when it was time to leave the convent, a certain group would step forward to say good-bye to the Sisters and to ask their prayers. These would be men ordered to leave during the week as a draft for some battalion in the trenches. And the lads “would be remembered in the Sacred Presence there, where remembrances are sacred and each memory holds a prayer.” Day and night, as the Sisters knelt before the Lord and offered their continuous prayers for a world that seemed to have forgotten Him, special prayers were said for those whose badges hung on Our Lady’s mantle.