CHAPTER IV--THE CONVENT FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF PRINCIPLES

  Men unite themselves and dwell in communities. By virtue of what right?By virtue of the right of association.

  They shut themselves up at home. By virtue of what right? By virtue ofthe right which every man has to open or shut his door.

  They do not come forth. By virtue of what right? By virtue of the rightto go and come, which implies the right to remain at home.

  There, at home, what do they do?

  They speak in low tones; they drop their eyes; they toil. They renouncethe world, towns, sensualities, pleasures, vanities, pride, interests.They are clothed in coarse woollen or coarse linen. Not one of thempossesses in his own right anything whatever. On entering there, eachone who was rich makes himself poor. What he has, he gives to all. Hewho was what is called noble, a gentleman and a lord, is the equal ofhim who was a peasant. The cell is identical for all. All undergo thesame tonsure, wear the same frock, eat the same black bread, sleep onthe same straw, die on the same ashes. The same sack on their backs, thesame rope around their loins. If the decision has been to go barefoot,all go barefoot. There may be a prince among them; that prince is thesame shadow as the rest. No titles. Even family names have disappeared.They bear only first names. All are bowed beneath the equality ofbaptismal names. They have dissolved the carnal family, and constitutedin their community a spiritual family. They have no other relatives thanall men. They succor the poor, they care for the sick. They elect thosewhom they obey. They call each other "my brother."

  You stop me and exclaim, "But that is the ideal convent!"

  It is sufficient that it may be the possible convent, that I should takenotice of it.

  Thence it results that, in the preceding book, I have spoken of aconvent with respectful accents. The Middle Ages cast aside, Asia castaside, the historical and political question held in reserve, from thepurely philosophical point of view, outside the requirements of militantpolicy, on condition that the monastery shall be absolutely a voluntarymatter and shall contain only consenting parties, I shall alwaysconsider a cloistered community with a certain attentive, and, in somerespects, a deferential gravity.

  Wherever there is a community, there is a commune; where there is acommune, there is right. The monastery is the product of the formula:Equality, Fraternity. Oh! how grand is liberty! And what a splendidtransfiguration! Liberty suffices to transform the monastery into arepublic.

  Let us continue.

  But these men, or these women who are behind these four walls. Theydress themselves in coarse woollen, they are equals, they call eachother brothers, that is well; but they do something else?

  Yes.

  What?

  They gaze on the darkness, they kneel, and they clasp their hands.

  What does this signify?