1. ARRIVAL IN CHENGTU (1942)

At the end of 1942 Father Raphael left for Chengtu, invited by Bishop Rouchouse,. He was going to prepare a new foundation. Bishop Rouchouse had long wanted a Catholic University or at least an Institution of Higher Education in his city and he wanted to see the Benedictines take this project in hand. He was well aware that we could not do it during the war, but we could lay the foundations for such an enterprise.

Neither Father Raphael nor the monks of SiShan thought in terms of a University because we did not have the personnel. With Bishop Rouchouse and the influential Christians, Father Raphael thought of a Higher Institute of Research which would specialize in East-West cultural rapprochement. Above all, we wanted to find a way of adapting the teaching of the Christian religion to Chinese thought. Bishop Rouchouse accepted the project which was baptized: “L'institut de Recherches Sur la Culture Chinoise et Occidentale”, “The Chinese and Western Research Institute”.

The purpose of the Institute was to compare and bring together the two civilizations of China and the West. Research would focus on religion, history, art and languages. The members were Chinese or foreign specialists in one or the other of these subjects. The work would be published by the Institute. Exchanges of views on these problems were planned for specific dates. The members would give courses either at the Institute or at universities in the city of Chengtu. We hoped to call on other specialists from Europe or China to help us in this work.

The Institute quickly counted among its members outstanding Chinese personalities: the Buddhist philosopher Wang Ngen Yang, Confucian philosopher, Kuo Pen Tao, the promoter of modern Chinese literature Sun Fou Yuan, who became secretary general of the Institute, a great Szechwan painter Tchang Ta Ch’ien.

The Buddhist philosopher Wang Ngen Yang was the most picturesque figure. We would see him arrive waddling, a cane in his hand, turning his head to the right and to the left, a smile on his lips and with the air of saying: “I am here.”. Sun Fou Yuan was a charming man, very refined, very polite but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He received you at his home ( because he lived at the monastery), he offered you a cup of tea and would talk about Chinese literature: he also knewFrench literature well. The conversations were pleasant.

Father Raphael also inaugurated the first Catholic library in Chengtu. It was intended for both the clergy and the Christian [laity]. The vast majority of the books came from the “Catholic Truth Society” in Hong Kong. Father Hildebrand took care of the library until it closed in 1950. The library did immense good to the Church of Chengtu by reviving Catholic doctrine and supporting priests and Christians in their faith. At the time of the liquidation of the library, the books were distributed in bundles according to the titles of interest to priests and Christians.

In March 1944, Father Raphael called me to Chengtu to assist [in planning] the layout of the monastery. To Father Raphael’s surprise, I arrived with Laurent Tang, one of our Oblates, who was studying at middle school. He then left for the United States, became Father Felix and [later] came to join us in Valyermo.

Bishop Rouchouse had given us a beautiful mansion in the middle of the city a few minutes’ walk from the Cathedral, at number 172 Yang She Kai, Rue du Marche aux Chevres. It was a property of more than one hectare: A gate on the street gave access to a row of interior courtyards. Behind the house, there was a superb vegetable garden which produced much for us. When I arrived, the rooms overlooking the first courtyard were occupied by several families, but Father Yang, the Mission’s Procurator, was busy finding new accommodation for them. In the third courtyard there was the family of a philosopher. All the buildings were spacious, in a local Chinese style and there was at that time enough space for a chapel, a library, a reception room. a dining room and a few private bedrooms.

The arrangement took some time. Father Yang looked after the business, paid for building materials and workers. I insisted on paying the bills. But I was severely scolded. The last tenant to leave was the philosopher and his wife. Their kitchen was very close to ours and very close to our water well. Madame used to wash clothes beside the well, and of course some of the dirty water fell into the well. One day, very tactfully, I pointed out to her the inconvenience of a well of dirty water. I have never seen such fury in a woman’s eyes. I barely had time to slip away so as not to catch a volley of dirty water. After that the philosopher took it out on Father Prior who took it out on me. The incident caused a somewhat hasty departure. It was exactly what we had hoped for.

Father Yang gave us a doorman. We called him Lao Ho. He was a good elderly man with a slightly suspicious look, he spoke little, was very shrewd and understood his world. He sat all day in the doorway.  He sported a strange haircut. [He was] shaved to the top of his head; he wore his hair [long] in the back. It was a remnant of the old Chinese custom at the time of the Manchu emperors, to wear a braid as a sign of submission to the Manchu dymasty. Lao Ho also suffered from tuberculosis and coughed up blood. The Chinese were very resistant to tubersulosis which was present at that time. Lao Ho would inform Fr. Raphael of the arrival of a visitor, and escort them through the inner courtyards to the reception room. Lao Ho was our doorman and remained at the door until our departure in 1952. Police raids and meetings of local Communist cells in our large entrance hall terrified him. Very often he looked at me full of sadness. He loved us very much. We had excellent employees and dedicated workers in Chengtu who never gave us any trouble.

AT the beginning of 1944, I lived in the bishop’s residence. A week before leaving, we had a visit from a young American officer and from the chaplain Pere Barrett. They came to ask for help from Bishop Rouchouse, for Easter masses. The Americans were building a circle of airfields around Chengtu. As no one else spoke English, this charge was entrusted to me. This was the beginning of my work as “Contract Chaplain” in the American air force. My contract lasted almost four years. The Americans were building nine airfields, four for flying fortresses and five for fighter planes. In addition to this there was the military hospital at Hwa Shi Pa, in the complex of the Protestant university. There were eleven chaplains, among whom were only three Catholics. I was one of the three. I had a lot of work first as cellarer and procurator of a monastery to be supplied, and then as chaplain. Every Saturday, Sunday and sometimes a weekday was taken up by this work. From time to time Fr. Eleutherius helped me in this work. At first I was given a driver but I learned very quickly to drive the jeep and as chaplain I had the privilege of using the military motorpool. My driving instructor was Medical Corps Captain AT Marquise with whom I correspond and whom I visit from time to time in the state of New York.

Father Raphael’s teaching and my job as chaplain paid well. Slowly we were able to repay Bishop Rouchouse’s loans.. I spoke to Father Raphael and one day I went to the bishop and offered to settle the accounts. He looked at me kindly- He looked at me kindly with a quizzical air, as he often did, then said to me: “What are you saying? You owe me nothing at all. We all work for the good of the Church. The property of the diocese belongs to the Church. You did good work at Si Shan and I was happy to help you. Do not weary my ears any more with such tales.” The matter was settled.

Bishop Rouchouse and Fr. Poisson, the Vicar General were perfect hosts. We were always welcome at their table, which we very much enjoyed. Fr. Poisson made an excellent beer and an excellent bottle of red wine . At each meal the wine flowed in abundance.

The food was very good. What a difference from SiShan’s meals! The conversation was pleasant and humorous. Bishop Rouchouse had a great sense of humor. When the conversation became a little lively around Father Collin, a Breton who had no sense of humor, Father Poisson had a talent for smoothing things over. Father Collin told us the news of the day and the bishop teased him about the veracity of his reports. Both Bishop Rouchouse and Pere Poisson had long white beards divided in two by the wind. They smoked long pipes and very good tobacco. Bishop Rouchouse had to give up tobacco by order of his doctor. But to satisfy this long habit, he held a fake cigarette between his teeth.

They liked to entertain, and several times a year there were receptions for distinguished guests. As it was sweltering in summer, Bishop Rouchouse invited his guests, who were formally dressed, to make themselves comfortable. At Chinese dinners, this happens naturally. The dinners were always appreciated because of the good cellar of Fr. Poisson and also because of the refreshing atmosphere that reigned in the episcopal residence. It was a very spacious residence with many colonnades and sheltered corridors. This kind of architecture invited a light breeze especially at midday. The hosts were mandarins, French diplomats, naval officers and French doctors who worked at the Catholic Hospital. This hospital was run by Bishop Rouchouse and the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary. After the departure of the French doctors, Michel Siao, a former pupil of the abbey school of St. André, became the chief medical officer.

Shortly after my arrival, the most frequent guests were officers and soldiers of the United States Air Force. As Bishop Rouchouse did not speak English, he invited me to these dinners to keep the conversation going.

The Americans were very generousl and gave many things to the missionaries: foodstuffs, useful things, and, of course, many cigarettes. They also had a light beer. Bishop Rouchouse received many presents and many cigarettes. Since he no longer smoked, the cigarettes remained moldy in his drawer. One day, taken with a great gesture of generosity, he invited me to his office, opened his drawer and gave me half a dozen boxes of cigarettes. When I opened them I found them all moldy. You should know that the climate of Chengtu was very humid. Each time you met the bishop in his residence or in the street, he would give you a little present; soap, toothpaste, a box of anti-flea powder, etc. For the children he had chocolate candies: “the treat today is a sweet,” or “the treat today is chocolate candy.”  All this amused him very much.

Twice a year, the chaplains organized collections among the military personnel on the bases, especially at Christmas time. A large number of boxes were collected and distributed by the chaplains among the missionaries, the Redemptorists, the nuns, the orphanage, and the Trappists recently arrived from northern China. Since I was one of the chaplains, the Benedictines were not neglected.

[Handwritten note – difficult to decipher - on Vincentian Fr. Glynn …  could this be Fr. Thomas Glynn in L.A. - Glynn, Fr. Thomas J. (310) 839-2361 3333 Manning Ave, L.A. 90064-4804 (Nazareth House) Retired (Holy Trinity Church, Pastor Emeritus)] ??]

2. LIBRARY RELOCATION

We had very good friends among the Americans. We had a a very special one in Mr. James McWilliams. He was the director of the “War Information” office in Chengtu and then in Chungking. He was one of the frequent guests of Yang She Kai. Jim became an Oblate of St. Benedict and he [later] helped us settle in Valyermo. He stayed in Valyermo for over a year. He was our first cook and prepared “TV Dinners” for us. It was the only thing he could prepare. He also took care of the purchases.

One day Father Raphael suggested to McWilliams the transfer of the library from SiShan to Chengtu. We had about ten or twelve thousand books among which were many old editions collected by [founding prior] Father Jehan Joliet and a number of books of Chinese art. Jim McWilliams put us in touch with an aviator who promised to take care of the move. Father Raphael informed Father Eleutherius at SiShan, to put the books in boxes and take them to the Shunking airfield and wait. A few weeks later a plane flew over the SiShan monastery. That was the signal. Father Eleutherius and Brother Bernard went to the airfield to meet the pilot. The crates had already been loaded on the plane. The three of them went to town to visit to the bishop Bishop Wang, who received them with Chinese politeness. Next they strolled through town under the curious and benevolent gaze of the population. Brother Bernard who spoke perfect English was the interpreter, and soon became friends with the pilot who offered to take him with him to Chengtu. Father Eleutherius nodded and when the plane returned in the afternoon to pick up the rest of the cargo of books, Brother Bernard flew to join us in Chengtu. It was already getting late that night. The plane was overloaded and had difficulty in taking off.

Brother Bernard stayed for some time in Chengtu and at the first opportunity went to Burma. He waited several months for the opprtunity to board a “LibertyShip,” which brought him to the United States. He studied philosophy and theology at St. John’s Abbey in Minnesota.

Father Eleutherius rejoined the group in Chengtu in 1945 and Father Wilfrid left his middle school to settle in Yang She Kai too. Father Raphael asked Father Hildebrand to return to SiShan for a short time to take care of the final move. The Priory of SiShan was then loaned to Bishop Wang who housed the orphanage there run by nuns. They remained there until the local communist government confiscated the monastery. It was the end of the Priory of Si-Shan.

3. [TEACHING and STUDY GROUPS (1945)]

When the monks arrived in Chengtu Father Raphael tried to obtain teaching jobs for them. The reason was simple: it was necessary in order to earn our bread and develop St. Bendict’s Priory. Father Raphael became a professor of Church history at Yen King Ta Shio, Yale University in China, in 1943. There was a regulation that prohibited Catholic missionaries from teaching in state colleges or in Protestant universities. We could only teach in Catholic institutions and there were none in Chengtu. Father Raphael decided to disregard the rules and teach in non-Catholic institutions. Bishop Rouchouse, moreover, approved of the matter. This teaching was to broaden the horizons of our apostolate. It was a bit revolutionary and we were the first missionaries to do so. But at the end of the war, when Rome was informed of our initiative, Father Raphael received, through the intermediary of the Internuncio Bishop Riberi, a letter from the Prefect of The Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith [Propaganda], congratulating him on his initiative. Father Abbot Theodore Neve also received a letter from Propaganda congratulating him on the work of his monks “in Chengtu.”  Subsequently, the policy of the Church in China was no longer to found very expensive colleges or universities, but to advise missionaries to teach in the colleges and universities of the State.

Father Eleutherius became a professor of philosophy at Hwa Shi Pa, the Protestant University of Chengtu. Fr. Wilfrid taught English there in 1946. Father Eleuthere taught French at the School of Fine Arts.

The invitation to teach at Yen King University was not easy at first. The following anecdote is interesting. Father Raphael received a chair of Church history in 1943. When it came to renewing his 1944 term, the council of regents, half Chinese and half American and Canadian, raised this objection: “If we continue to invite him, in a few years the university will become Catholic.” The Chinese regents protested. To avoid upsetting the Chinese members, the president of the council voted in favor of Father Raphael. This story was related by a member of the council, a friend of Father Raphael, the philosopher Kuo Pen Tao.

A good portion of the time was devoted to study groups. There were three study groups. The first, that of Fr. Eleutherius, began in 1946. Fr. Eleutherius brought together a dozen students in an parish near the School of Fine Arts. It was an opportunity for them to practice the French language. Father Eleutherius gave it a moral and religious twist. The students loved him very much and some requested baptism. Father Raphael started with eight students in 1949 and soon had thirty. They met on Sundays after Mass in one of the parlors where they could find a good selection of books, books of doctrine as well as novels. Discussions followed. Father Raphael made quite a few conversions in student circles and Buddhist circles.  Finally, there was the Legion of Mary.

Together with the study groups, literary efforts were not idle. Father Eleuthere published a few chapters in a Chinese review entitled, “Introduction to Philosophy” Father Raphael wrote in succession, “Problems relating to Human Life “, “Religion and Philosophy”, and “Life”. These articles were highly valued in Chinese circles. Father Thaddeus launched pamphlets for the Catholic Truth Society of Hong Kong and Father Wilfrid published his English grammar.

We had a good friend, Mr. Li You Shin, who was director of the Szechwan Province School of Fine Arts. He had studied in France and spoke very good French. It was he who had asked Father Eleuthere to teach French. Some time later Mr. Li asked me to give lessons in painting, drawing and modeling. Eventually he added a course in Western Art History. I really enjoyed this course. In fact, it was the only one I enjoyed. I offered this course in a large hall which was always full. This course was followed with great interest. Unfortunately, the quality of the projector and the photos left something to be desired.

While I was giving art lessons, one of the teachers was giving me lessons in Chinese painting. He taught me the handling of the brush and the technique of painting. This technique is very ancient but is still used today. There are books that explain how to paint the rocks, how to differentiate trees, how to paint leaves so as to recognize a species. There was a [different] technique for waterfalls, for  rivers, etc. This technique is necessary, but it is only the background-support of a work. The essential core, through which one recognized a great artist, was in the vigor and quality of the brush stroke, the quality of the ink, and in the harmonious distribution of full spaces and empty spaces. When the Chinese visit an exhibition, they draw close to the painting in order to admire the quality of the line.

My painting classes were very enjoyable. The students and I would leave for a half-day in the surrounding countryside, or for a whole week in a picturesque place worthy of a tour. We were lodged in a Buddhist monastery. We painted the life of the monks, the monastery, the surrounding landscapes. Sometimes a bonze (monk) gave us permission to make his sketch. We lived a little like the bonzes. The morning gong was too early, but we attended part of their prayers. We shared the most excellent food. It was good and the bonze guestmaster took a meal with us. The bonzes do not serve meat, but one day I had the distinct impression of eating meat. The bonze said to me: “No, it’s Teou Fu [i.e. tofu] cheese, which one can prepare in any way possible.’ They served wine and excellent tea.

We stayed in their small guesthouse. I lived for a few days in the monastery where a very famous Szechwan painter, Chang Ta Chien, spent part of his time meditating and painting. The bonze told me that Chang spent hours meditating in the surrounding woods, soaking up nature, listening to the birdsong, contemplating the trees. Returning to his studio, he would paint. He had introduced elements of Western painting into Chinese painting. I admired his broad and vigorous brushstrokes.

I knew that Buddhist monasteries possess treasures of works of art, especially old monasteries like the one where I was staying. But these works are not exhibited nor are they accessible to monks. I asked the bonze innkeeper if I could, with my pupils, see some of the paintings preserved in the monastery. He hesitated for a moment, then gave us an appointment for the following day. He ushered us into a very pretty, secluded chamber. He opened one drawer after another and very carefully unrolled before our astonished eyes old paintings of various styles, but especially descriptive paintings of the Southern school; then there were more abstract paintings, washes. In the meantime he studied us with his gaze. I knew he intended to show us at the beginning, only works of lesser value and, according to our reactions, to show more beautiful things.  I did not dare to express my feelings which would have only proven my ignorance. But at some point, I couldn’t help making a flattering remark. It was the end. The scrolls returned silently to the drawers. After that we continued to talk about the art of landscapes.

It was interesting to see that the daily life of the bonzes was very similar to that of western monks. The distribution between hours of work and prayer, hours of rest and recreation, the distribution of time between manual and intellectual work, the time for reading, all this reminded me of life in St. André. There was however a significant difference in the length of the offices and the minimal comfort for the monks in the temple. There were no stalls. The monks remained standing or kneeling on their very colorful mat, and that for hours!

Certain other classes were less enjoyable; I recall in particular two live portrait and composition courses. I had a dozen boys and girls aged between twenty and twenty two. There was a kind of rivalry between the girls - I never knew the cause of this rivalry. As I walked among the easels, I gave some precise advice concerning the work. One day while walking as usual, I gave advice to a girl, then I moved on to another easel. Suddenly I heard another pupil say to her: “You are not doing what the teacher advised you”.

I had great difficulty finding live models. People did not want to pose.  was not appropriate in China. I had to content myself with life - portraits. But that was not easy either, because the Chinese thought that the painter was taking power from their spirit.  But then Sister Rose of Viterbo, sister of the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary, came to my aid. She was in charge of an old people’s home, some of them were Christians and did not believe in these superstitions . She invited them to pose. They were very happy with the walk and a full day’s salary.

 “Leave me alone,” was the reply. This little game went on even louder when suddenly the two girls grabbed each other and tore their hair out with piercing cries. The boys rushed to separate them and soon the whole class was engaged in an indescribable hubbub, easels overturned, chairs and drawings flying everywhere. I was flabbergasted and powerless to restore calm. Suddenly the classroom door opened and the director said curtly, “Enough, everyone return to their place.” In the blink of an eye the melee was over and everyone resumed their place. I was confused. After class, I went to see the principal and handed in my resignation. “No, not now, he told me; but at the end of the semester.” I no longer had any taste for it. I was completely disgusted with teaching. I kept the history course only until 1947. I had contracted tuberculosis and Doctor Kong sent me to spend a few months in the hospital.

4. [ACTIVITIES and LIFE of the MONKS in CHENGTU]

As a painting teacher, I had to paint and produce. During these few years I went back to painting and drawing. Mr Li You Shin, the director of the School of Fine Arts asked me to exhibit my works. We found an exhibition hall, near the public park. I exhibited portraits and landscapes. A large number of people filed through the gallery. Most people came to put their noses against the paintings. They were no doubt examining the quality of the brushwork and of the drawing. But I did not feel as if I was much appreciated. One day I saw a young man sitting on the ground in the middle of the gallery, one eye closed and the other looking through the hole in his fist in front of his eye. He examined each table minutely and took notes. I never understood what he was doing when he got on his stomach and continued to observe. The newspapers praised the exhibition. I haven’t kept anything from this period because I exchanged almost all my paintings and my drawings for Chinese paintings and art work in lacquer and silver.  I have always thought I got the better end of the deal.

Our means of transportation to school were by bicycle or a motorbike manufactured at a military base and maintained in good condition by Father Eleutherius. As wheels it had the landing gear of a small plane, and as engine, that of a pump without any way to change speed. It was unwilling to climb the steep West Gate bridge, and you had to help it with your feet and sometimes push it all the way up, much to the delight of onlookers. This bike did us great service. But I used it only when Father Eleuthere didn’t use it. After some time, we saw small motorcycles of this kind, but more sophisticated, in the city of Chengtu.

I had a great deal of work as cellarer and procurator (purchaser), as chaplain at two military bases and the hospital, and as a teacher, the latter requiring class-preparations that lasted long into the night. I hardly went to bed before one o’clock in the morning. And we were soon going to begin studying plans for the new monastery. I also undertook an inspection, with a military doctor, Captain AT Marquise, of hygienic conditions in houses of ill repute and of certain restaurants open to American personnel. I acted as an interpreter, but I very much doubt the practical results of these rounds of inspection.

This was also the time when I spent lunchtime in a Chinese theater enjoying the wonderful performances of the actors. There was a theater that I especially liked on the busiest shopping street in Chengtu, Ch’uen Shi Lou, where one found in the stores all the American novelties, including nylon stockings. The theater on Ch’uen Shi’Lou, emphasized the classical cymbals of Szechwann.  A large number of merchants would pleasantly meet there to conduct business, drink tea, and smoke a pipe, eating peanuts or watermelon seeds, intermittantly applauding to show approval of a difficult piece.  Next to the theater there was a restaurant, a tea house and a games room.

One day we observed Bishop Wang, our [former] bishop in Shung King arriving at the monastery.  We had not yet started to build our new monastery in Chengtu. He had come to ask Father Raphael to return to SiShan. Father Raphael was a little surprised. But the answer was clear. Then the bishop asked me if I could bring to him by jeep all the income from his rice fields around Chengtu. It must be noted that at that time Chinese currency was worth almost nothing. Inflation was catastrophic. We went to the market with bundles of papers [banknotes] under our arms or in our hats.  I never understood the bishops’ exact reasons. Didn’t he trust the local banks? Did he want to hide the total of his income? He was afraid of seeing his assets diminish in value, due to the slowness of the banks. Finally, Father Raphael insisted that I do him this favor.

So in August 1947 I went to the mission of the Procurator of Bishop Wang. He spread out the mountain of banknotes. I had an army jeep and trailer and the iron trunks that had been used to transport the library from Si Shan to Chengtu. The trailer was full of trunks, the trunks were full of banknotes.

We left early in the morning. I had a Chinese driver-mechanic, confidant of Mr. McWilliams. I’m sure he knew the contents of the trunks, although I didn’t say a word to him. In the evening we arrived at Sui-Ling and were lodged by the local priest who received us very kindly. The Jeep remained at the Mission. The next day we arrived in the afternoon at Shunking. How did I dare undertake this excursion? I don’t understand it. I could have been robbed at any time. But I had American prestige with me in the [form of] the [chaplain’s air force] uniform and the hardware. And I was young then.

The trunks were sealed and I gave the keys to the bishop. Bishop Wang was delighted. He gave us an excellent dinner that evening. Then when the trunks had to be unloaded, he asked me if he could keep them too. There, I must say that I was taken by surprise. I couldn’t believe it and not knowing what to answer, I said to him: “No, because the trunks don’t belong to me”. Back in Chengtu, I told Father Raphael that I would never do Bishop Wang a favor again.

After the war, I had the opportunity to travel to Shanghai. Father Raphael had inquired about the price of paper to publish his book and Father Wilfrid’s grammar. Of course paper was cheaper in Shanghai. He suggested that I bring the paper back by military plane. The Colonel who was in charge of the liquidation of the affairs of the American army in Chengtu, traveled regularly between Chengtu and Shanghai. I presented my request to him. ”Of course”, was the answer. The flight was scheduled for two days later. It was a Douglas C-47, one of those good air freighters. The plane was slow. We were cruising at 160 miles per hour. We went down to Wu Han to obtain gas, and by the end of the afternoon we arrived in Shanghai. While descending the mechanic couldn’t get the landing gear down. We flew over Shanghai for an hour until the landing gear finally went down. Meanwhile, a runway had been covered with foam to allow us to land without too much damage. A few moments later three fighter planes which were following too closely at the airport crashed into each other.  The planes were demolished but the airmen were safe.

It was my first stay in Shanghai. What a cosmopolitan city! The sky line of the buildings of the Bund was very beautiful, the French concession very pleasant. I was staying at the Procura of the Scheutist Fathers. I caused a bit of a stir with my military uniform and because I did not follow the rules of the house. I visited the famous Father who had done extraordinary work on Chinese phonetisation. Much of his work had been adopted by the government He was a charming man with whom I spent delightful hours. There was also Fr. Legrand of Liege. What interesting stories about Northern China and Mongolia.  In each Procura of Shanghai, and the regulations for the missions were there on the table of the house, One of the regulations forbade missionaries to go to the theater or the cinema... I asked a procurator what that meant.  The answer was very evasive.

The war had been over for a year, and captured Japanese soldiers were still marching through the city in perfect order. No one seemed to pay much attention to them. In Shanghai I again met my friend the Medical Captain Marquise, with whom I worked as chaplain at the Military Hospital of Chengtu. Back in Chengtu I handed the paper over to Mr. Kitchen, director of the Protestant printing press in Chengtu. When he learned the price of the paper, he said to me: “I could have offered you the same price!”

During my second trip to Shanghai, on business, I met Father Thaddeus who was returning from the United States, where he had tried to obtain financial assistance [for us]. Father Thaddeus was a perfect traveling companion, and an excellent tourist. He was staying at the Procura of the Missions Etrangeres. I still had the status of chaplain and I had a jeep at my disposal. We visited all the memorable sites, including the Observatory of the Jesuit Fathers at Si Ka Wei. In the Chinese part of the city, there was a magnificent Buddhist temple. We strained a point by travelling to Nanking where Father Thaddeus wished to visit the Archbishop, Bishop Yupin. This took us to the place where Father Abbot Theodore Neve, during his visit in 1937, had buried a medal of St. Benedict, indicating the hoped-for site of a future Benedictine foundation. This project had caused much concern and anguish to Father Gabriel Roux, then Prior of Si Shan, who believed that Si Shan was going to be put on hold. [However, this] project never saw the light of day.

Nanking the capital of Nationalist China was under construction. We visited the superb monument of Sun Ya Tsen.  A type of Chinese stone and concrete architecture. The roof had the form of a Ming roof with blue tiles. Beautiful architecture adapted to modern material. The tomb of the Ming emperors was also found in Nanking.  The entrance led past a series of mythical animals and ferocious-looking guardians who were to protect the emperors against evil spirits.

The streets of Shanghai are crowded with pedestrians and at street intersections they don’t care about cars. One day at a crossroads I hit a pedestrian. Immediately, arguing! But Father Thaddee said to me, “Be silent: [act as if] you don’t know Chinese. You are American. We will have less trouble”. There was a form in the jeep for such cases. The driver and the pedestrian signed the form. The pedestrian gave his address. Everything was given to the Motor Pool and the military insurance covered all the costs.

Towards the end of 1947, I found myself in Chungking, I no longer recall the reason. In brief, I found myself on the airfield at the moment where General Marshall arrived and was introduced by Chiang Kai Shek, dressed in his big black cape, a whole parade of VIPs, among whom was Mao Tse Tung. I don’t know how I found myself in the third line. The presentations did not go not so far because it started to rain in torrents. The purpose of the visit of General Marshall was to negotiate peace between the Kuomingtang and the the communist and to establish a coalition government. The plan was beautiful but utopian. This attempt by Marshall found no sympathy in public opinion. We did not understand how the United States, bastion of anti-communism, could play the games of communism in China. People did not believe in Mao’s good will. How many times did I heard this remark to Chengtu. Visits like Marshall’s threw the Chinese into disarray Chinese and undermined their spirit of cooperation with the Kuomingtang government.

The Japanese surrendered in the summer of 1947. At that time I was in a US Air Force training camp. The dropping of an atomic bomb on Nagasaki and Hiroshima was commented on in very diverse ways. For the first time I attended a very free exchange of views for or against the government, typical of American freedom of thought and discussion, even in the army. The rallying took place very quickly. Father Thaddee was with me and for hours we discussed the moral imlications of such an action. The Chinese reaction was positive and enthusiastic. The end of the war!

Father Vincent, who had been a prisoner of the Japanese, came to see us in Chengtu. He spent a few days with us but had to return to Belgium to recuperate. St. André was finally going to receive fresh news concerning the situation of St. Benedict’s Priory in Chengtu and her monks. Father Raphael had asked him to go to the United States, and raise funds for the construction of the Priory and of his Institute. We had the land and we could start. The result of Father Vincent’s visit to St. André was the sending of Father Jean de la Croix, who conducted a sort of canonical visitation. Father Jean de la Croix was a very bad traveler. Neither the novelty of a visit to China, nor Chinese cuisine, nor the country appealed to him. I believe he was sick to his stomach the whole time he was there. But he loved our Priory, our Institute plans and he loved us very much. We drove him all over the place. He was royally received at the episcopal residence by Bishop Rouchouse. We often took him to the episcopal residence because he could enjoy their good French cuisine. Father Jean stayed with us for a fortnight. Back in St. André, he obtained permission from the Abbot for us to build the Priory and the Institute. Father Benoit sent us the necessary money, $50,000.00. Bishop Rouchouse was delighted. Finally his dream was about to come true.  An Institution of Higher Studies in his diocese Alas! he died before he could bless the new Priory.

During the last years of the war, Father Thaddeus was in Chungking where he worked for the “Chinese Correspondent”, an information organ for foreigners. At the end of the war he was very tired and the Father Raphael sent him to Belgium to rest. After a period of rest he returned to China via the United States. He met there with friends of Father Charles Meeus and among others, Loretta Young.

He sent us on a record a conversation with Loretta Young and Father Meeus. They wished us well and gave some news from the United States. Then Loretta asked Father Thaddee to recite the “Hail Mary” in Chinese. How we laughed! Father Thaddeus couldn’t remember the second part [of the prayer] and continued to jabber something incomprehensible in Chinese. I saw Father Thaddeus again in Shanghai on my second trip to that city and together we took a military plane to Chengtu. By now it was 1948.

The Abbey of St. Andre sent us reinforcements in the form of  Fathers Gaetan and Francois. Both went to study the language in a school in Peking and then came to join us. Father Gaetan knew Chinese very well and had a good knowledge of literary Chinese. Father Francois had difficulty learning the language. Political tensions made him nervous. In short, he could not acclimatize and returned to Belgium at the end of a few months

5. [THE NEW MONASTERY (1948-1949)]

The plans for the monastery were drawn up by Mr. Fong, professor of architecture at the Szechwann School of Fine Arts. I worked a great deal with him and Father Emile. Father Raphael and the other fathers offered their opinions. The result was a beautiful two-story brick building and a huge attic in classical Chinese style. Behind the main house was a smaller building for the refectory, the kitchen and the outbuildings. The new monastery was to be located at the bottom of the vegetable garden, near the wall separating the monastery from the city hospital. There would be about thirty rooms, plus a chapel, a reception room, and a library. A wide grand staircase connected the floors.

All the preparatory work was done on site. The contractors bought the trees, cedars, and the long sawyers worked on the site. But in May, I was sent to the hospital with tuberculosis. I stayed in bed for three months. I spent a few sleepless nights not knowing if the dollars were going to arrive to pay for the material and the salaries. Finally they arrived. Father Wilfrid took over. It was not easy. The first stone was laid in June 1948 by Bishop Rouchouse.  I could not assist at the ceremony because I was in bed. Every day I had a visit from Bishop Rouchouse who brought me delicacies and constant comfort.

The Franciscan Missionaries of Mary were excellent nurses and ran the hospital. They did enormous good in the city by taking in abandoned children. When they opened the convent door in the morning, they often found a “precious pearl”, as they called them, at the foot of the door. The children were received in the orphanage, were educated and then married. Doctor Ms. Kong was treating me. She was the wife of Dr. Kong, dentist at the West China Union University. Mr. Kong, a great friend of the Benedictines, was a Yugoslavian Jew. He left China before the arrival of the Communists and went to settle in Italy.

Father Wilfrid’s task was very difficult. There was a curious thing in China: inflation, disastrous inflation. Twice in less than ten years, the “yuen” (Chinese dollars) had been revalued. During the war on a silver standard and after the war on a gold standard. The first revaluation of the yuan fixed at five for one US dollar, ended four years later with 100,000 for one USdollar. The second revaluation of the yuen fixed at ten for one US dollar after the war fell to more than 30,000 Yuen for one US dollar. Father Wilfrid had made arrangements with merchants from Chengtu who had a representative in Shanghai. These received our dollars through the Procura and we received the money on the spot. The dollars were obviously exchanged on the black market, which was not not so dark as that. Our workers were paid in measures of rice; a seng, a teou (ten sengs). As the monetary value changed continuously, we paid the workers the price of rice at midday. They wasted no time, and ran to invest the paper in rice or other necessary foodstuff. They seemed satisfied of this arrangement. When we went to the market by rickshaw, we were carrying many suitcases with stacks of banknotes.

After three months in the hospital, I returned to the monastery and remained stretched out for several months on a chaise longue, with minimal movement. And when Doctor Kong left Chengtu, Michel Siao, a classmate at the Abbey of St. André, and chief surgeon of the hospital, gave me a pneumothorax. It was the way to treat the lungs in the 40’s and 50’s.

At the beginning of 1949, Father Wilfrid also fell ill and returned to Belgium to rest. He had suffered badly from dysentery for much of his stay in China. I resumed the construction work, where he had left it. I made a few outings on site, at interesting times. From a distance I saw the workers hoist huge beams from the roof, by inclined planes. The architect supervised the company, especially when it came to installing plumbing on each floor. It was new in town, and it was hard to find a capable plumber. The water tank was installed in the attic and the water was pumped up there, every day, by hand. There were sometimes 300 men on the sites. The work progressed rapidly and the building was finished in June 1949.  Bishop Pinault blessed and inaugurated the new “Priory of St. Benedict”. That day, the weather was glorious. The family of Father Paul Wu, on the occasion of his ordination, presented us with a superb cedar wood altar. The sculptor was one of those itinerant carpenters and sculptors, who worked the wood with an ease, a flexibility and an extraordinary sense of aesthetics. [I wonder] what happened to this piece?

We finally had a chapel, where we could say the office and celebrate mass. We were able to enjoy. of the monastery for more than two and a half years. We believed at that time that the communist occupation would not last, and that sooner or later, even if we had to leave Chengtu, we would come back. Politics is unpredictable!

6. UNDER COMMUNIST OCCUPATION

On Christmas Day 1949, Communist troops entered the city of Chengtu. We had heard the cannon shots, and the shelling, which was not very deadly, for many days before Christmas. Then there was complete calm and silence.

The chapel of the monastery was full of people. Before the midnight mass, baptism was conferred on a professor and a student of the university. On Christmas day itself, Father Raphael baptized another whole family, father, mother and four children in the presence of our new bishop, Bishop Pinault, there was a large family celebration, which brought together at the monastery a good hundred people, rich or poor, Catholic or non-Catholic.

Meanwhile the communist troops led by flags paraded through the city. I determined to see what was going on. No signs of welcome. No signs of joy.  All morose faces. It was an astonishing thing to see: a crowd of Chinese without smiles and without bursts of laughter. The following days the shelling resumed even more vigorously in the countryside with resistance for several weeks, but they had no chance of succeeding, since the nationalist troops had left Szechwann and were falling back on Formosa (Taiwan), and the newspapers were writing about “land reform” in favor of the peasants.

A few days after their arrival, large placards were disp layed in town reciting Mao Tse Tung’s creed. He proclaimed the liberation of the people, respect for individual freedom, respect for property, etc, which “respect” soon ceased to exist. One of the points was aimed at foreigners: respect for foreigners and of their property guaranteed by the government, The people did not believe this credo. There was no looting or disorder, the transfer of authority took place in the deepest silence. We did not know what was going on; we did not know who was in authority.

Slowly life returned to normal. During the following months the communist regime collected information on everyone, including foreigners.

Then came the purges. Fifteen days after the change of regime, the beggars had disappeared from the streets. Then it was the turn of the Taoist and Buddhist monks who were sent back to their families. The monks necessary for the maintenance of the pilgrimage temples were kept on and [the temples] remained open to the public. There were several large temples and monasteries in Chengtu. A large number of monasteries and temples were closed and occupied by the army.

We heard about purges. We whispered it. The editorial of the daily newspaper prepared the opinion for a few weeks beforehand. The accusation of enemy of the people was raised against anyone who did not share the current ideas of the party. The people demanded justice! Then came the violence. There was the purge of secret societies, the purge of landlords, the purge of farmers, the purge of former government employees, the purge of the party, etc. I was in town one morning and saw a series of trucks full of men standing , a sign on the back: “Enemies of the people”. The trucks were heading towards the North Gate. There, all these men were summarily executed with machine guns and buried in large mass graves.

In general, police raids took place at dawn; one man was taken, the other left. Then more news. Slowly terror reigned . No one dared speak. We were suspicious of everyone, and especially the children. These were questioned by their [school-] masters and mistresses who would ask them what was going on at home. Innocently they told them everything. Children who informed on their parents were rewarded.

Our turn was not long in coming. All foreigners were summoned within two weeks by the police. Our first interrogation was about our life, our occupations and, of course, our friends. The interrogations lasted twenty minutes or more. I remember that the interrogation of Father Raphael lasted 45 minutes. It was a bit like going to confession. Some were called back later for new confessions. After the confessions came the raids. The police arrived several times during lunch. They walked nonchalantly through the dining room, the kitchen. They arrived in the morning to chat with our employees. I filed a complaint because the police were preventing them from working. They came back, however, but told the employees to continue working while they talked. The police came in the evening, at night. We never knew when they would arrive. One morning I saw a large number of people around our water well. I went to see. The police were there and had thrown a strong magnet down the well to pull out weapons, if any. There was nothing, but I was afraid that they themselves would throw weapons into the well to accuse us later of harboring weapons. We were furious and decided to let out our pack of dogs at night until late in the morning . The dogs certainly didn’t like the police, because the dogs were barking furiously. At night the police watched us over the wall that ran along the alley. Immediately the pack of dogs put them to flight. The police office asked me to keep the dogs on a leash. I turned a deaf ear.

One day Father Raphael and I were summoned to the local police office. We were accused of harboring American equipment. We had very few things except an old radio, a Colt revolver. We were also accused of collaborating with the United States. Looking at my policemen I became red with anger. ”How can you accuse us of collaborating with the United States and harboring American equipment? Where do your military clothes come from, the guns you carry, your rifles, your jeeps, your trucks, even the typewriters on this desk and office furniture. Isn’t all this American?”

“You are the collaborators - not us. I have  nothing to declare but the the shirt on my back.” Father Raphael tried in vain to restrain me. The policemen calmed down and as they had not expected this expostulation, they did not have an answer. Later I learned that the Police for Foreigners said, “Beware of Father Raphael’s diplomacy and Father Werner’s bad temper.”

Returning to the monastery, I passed in front of a storage room, and said to Father Raphael: “Isn’t there a big cardboard box here, full of cotton? What is it? ?” After examination we we noticed that they were squares of cotton that were used to clean the breeches of rifles. How it came to us, I don’t know. But the following night Father Raphael and I spent a good part of the night digging little trenches along the flat strips of flowers and burying the cotton in them. We carefully covered the trenches. The next morning, a good watering and the natural humidity of the soil would do the rest. It was the end of a problem which could have become unpleasant. No one realized what we were doing, not even Father Hildebrand, whose room was nearby.

It was time. A few days later, the Foreigners’ police carried out a regular search of the monastery. They arrived at ten o’clock in the evening, just as we were going to bed. I heard the furious barking of dogs at the entrance to the vegetable garden. Police officers armed to the teeth did not dare to come forward and defended themselves with rifle butts. They shouted, “Put the dogs on a leash.” Very slowly the dogs were called to calm them down. They were ten policemen. ”We are coming to carry out a search. Let everyone stay at home”. They showed us that there was a search warrant from the Foreigners Office.

All the monks remained in their rooms and the search lasted until three o’clock in the morning. They inspected all the rooms. Father Raphael, while waiting for their arrival was destroying documents and eating a few photos that might have got him into trouble.  Fr. Eleutherius ate a photo depicting an American Air Force chaplain. The police demanded that I accompany them to the chapel where they demanded tht the Tabrnacle and ciboria be opened. Then it was the turn of the attic. We had a huge attic in which our water tank was located. The attic was cluttered with things. But there was a treasure inside: 400 bottles of French and Canadian liqueur, Napoleon cognac, benedictine, whiskeys etc. There was brandy that was over 50 years old. I did not want to see them disappear.  All the boxes were marked in French. I didn’t have too much trouble explaining to them that this wine was French wine. They celebrated for a long time in the attic touching on everything. Finally I asked them: “What are you looking for?”. They didn’t answer but started moving the roof tiles. I understood then that they were hoping to find a clandestine transmitting device. We had nothing of that kind. There were a few small wooden white, manufactured in Chengtu for the needs of the American airmen.

After the long visit to the attic. the police sealed the doors. I opposed this on the pretext that our water tank was in the attic and we couldn’t stay long without checking the tank. They took away my radio, a colt revolver, an old Japanese “Samurai” sword, and confiscated Father Alberic’s hearing aid. First they asked me what it was. I explained the device to them, then I violently protested this theft before them. They promised to send it back as soon as possible. I learned later from friends in town who ran an electrical appliance store, that the police had summoned experts to find out if Father Alberic’s device was a transmitting device. We laughed ourselves hoarse. In the meantime, I had written a letter of protest to the foreign affairs office asking them for immediate restitution. The hearing aid came back. The policemen apologized and asked me for the address of “Zenith” in Hong Kong, because they wanted to buy a similar device for one of their colleagues who was deaf! I had no address!

Three weeks later, the police came to remove the seals. We immediately decided unanimously not to let the wine fall into the hands of the police. The wine was distributed to the missionaries of Chengtu. Father Eleuthere was the man for that. Very innocently he put a bottle or two in his briefcase on his way to teach at the university, and stopped on the way either at the episcopal residence or at one of the missions. He made many people happy. Of course, we kept a good part of the wine for ourselves and for a year and a half we tasted and enjoyed the best cognacs, succulent Benedictines and the excellent Canadian White Horse whiskey. There were certain people in town, among them a former secretary of the French consulate, who suspected the existence of this wine. He himself came to ask us if we could not sell a certain number of bottles to the biggest restaurant in town, for the distinguished guests visiting Chengtu. One can imagine our response. The next day the bottles were transferred to Chinese wine jars. While we were still at large, the missionaries often came to visit us! This wine was a balm in the darkest moments of the communist occupation. When we left, there wasn’t much left.

We had a refectory, which was quite spacious and busy in the summer, because in it there were three fans: summers are very oppressive and hot in Chengtu.  The local police had requested permission to use the dining hall for a convocation of the local cells. It was granted to them. But then I pointed out to Father Raphael the danger of such permission. The more we give them, the more they will take and soon they will occupy our monastery. Father Raphael then put me in charge of cases with the police. A week later I received a visit from a neighborhood policeman who asked me if he could use our refectory again for a new convocation of the local cells. I refused, telling them that we had made our Entrance Hall available to them, which was more than sufficient for their meetings. We could no longer lend them the refectory which was our private dining room.

The next day I went to the Redemptorist Fathers for a reception. During my absence the police had again insisted of Father Hildebrand who did not know of my refusal. Father Hildebrand gave a vague response and the policeman promised to place a guard in the garden to prevent children from damaging lawns and flowerbeds! On my return from the Redemptorists, I pointed out to the police that I had given them an answer and refused permission. The next day I wrote a letter to the “Bureau of Police for Foreigners” protesting the infraction by the local police with respect to private property. The property of foreigners was guaranteed by the State. We never saw the local police chief again. But the police no longer insisted. Phew!

Next to our vegetable garden was a house with several floors which served as a prison and where the interrogations took place and where torture was performed. We could hear the cries and howls of pain. One of the classic tortures, reserved for peasant landowners, was hanging by the thumbs, with hands behind the back. Father Yang, procurator of the episcopal residence, had undergone this torture.

We had made our entrance hall available to the local police for meetings of communist cells in the neighborhood. Our monks and employees were members of these cells which met once a week. There was a cell for each 10 families; ten cells formed a pao. There were perhaps 50 to 75 people present at these meetings. They listened to the reading of the editorial of the day’s newspaper, followed by the Commissioner’s commentary. No one asked questions, except our Brother Peter. But as his questions were embarrassing, the superintendent finally told him not to come back. He was too educated for this kind of audience. He was destined for more advanced cells.

Before the change of regime, the internuncio, Bishop Riberi, had asked all the missionaries who had care of souls to remain at their post. The others were happy to leave. A very small number of Catholic missionaries returned to their country.

When we were called to make our first “confession”, we were told to leave China immediately. In the face of of our refusal, the police said to us: “You do not want to leave now! Very well! The Christians will ask for your expulsion, in due time.” The thing never happened.

After a few months of occupation, the government decided to suppress our main activity, the Institute of Higher Studies. On October 27, 1950, the police from the Foreign Office told Father Prior (Raphael) and Father Werner: “You are getting old. Go back to your country, your work will be useful there.”  “But we have work here.” ”We don’t need the work of foreigners”. They gave us two weeks to vacate the premises. The city papers announced our departure and advised us to settle our accounts as soon as possible. Father Hildebrand exported to Hong Kong all the books we could take. A number of hard-to-carry old editions were left behind, however. The work of the Institute was liquidated. Our departure had been delayed for two weeks, but on November 21 all the departure formalities were completed and we were ready to fly to Chungking. Our friends were crying, our workers looked very sad. We were already at the entrance gate of the monastery, when a policeman came to tell us: “The departure is postponed until tomorrow.” The police played this little game three times afterwards, and finally said to us: “There is no hurry. We will notify you later of the date of your departure.” They notified us fifteen months later... Their goal was achieved. The work of the Institute was destroyed by instilling in us the mindset of departure.

This formal notice to leave had a good side, that of allowing us to liquidate our Catholic bookshop. Father Hildebrand distributed all the books in “packages” suitable either for priests or Christians. A few months later, a law forbade the release of anything from any Catholic establishment without permission from the police. By distributing all this Catholic literature, the monastery largely contributed to spreading religious doctrine and supporting priests and Christians in their faith.

The communist regime wrought great havoc in the religious sphere. The Catholic religion dared to oppose their propaganda. She would become his victim. The Marxists had experts who knew our doctrine very well and knew how to undermine the Church from within. Father Paul told us one day that it was very difficult to answer their insinuating questions. Still, they endeavored to create a movement of autonomy in the Church. They tried to create rivalries and jealousies in the clergy and among the Christians. They were stirred up against the foreign imperialists and above all against the Pope, himself called the “great Imperialist”. Their agents worked in our monastery trying to turn the employees and workers against the monks. They had succeeded in creating a tension among the kitchen staff, a tension which manifested itself in noises, insults and shouting. The Chinese came to complain to me about the actions of the police. I went to file a new complaint with the immigration office against the local police who were preventing our men from giving us a good day’s work.

The missionaries in the episcopal residence were watched more. They knew it and were very careful. The purification movement of the Catholic Church was called the “Three Autonomies” movement: financial autonomy, administrative autonomy and preaching autonomy. The aim of the movement was to drive all foreign missionaries out of China, then to create a national Church, separate from the Pope, and subject to state control. This movement wanted Christians themselves to demand the expulsion of foreigners. At one point they organized huge popular assemblies accusing the nuns of horrible crimes against the children abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage. The charges were so absurd that the public did not believe it. These assemblies ceased.

The attempt failed in the face of resistance not only from the priests but also from the faithful. Out of 4,000 Christians in the city of Chengtu, only about forty followed the Communist leaders. Some devout Christians were put in prison where they found several priests. Some died “witnesses of the Faith”.

As the government could not trigger this revolutionary movement, it wanted to know the reason. On June 18, 1951, Bishop Pinault and Father Prior were summoned to the Foreigners Office. For the first time they were received with all the marks of Chinese politeness, with tea and cigarettes. ”We would like to have a sincere exchange of views with you on the movement of the Autonomous Church of China”. The interview lasted more than an hour. The gist can be summed up as follows: “The government of the Chinese people desires to protect the purity of the faith by purifying the Church of its imperialist elements. The reform movement consists in having Chinese bishops to lead the Church.” Answer: “Any bishop in the whole world must be appointed by the Pope.”  - “Very well, but once named. only the bishops direct the Church of China. The Pope will no longer have anything to do with it.”- Answer: “According to our principles, all bishops throughout the world, once appointed by the Pope, must continue to be in contact with him, precisely to protect the purity of the faith.” On seeing them back to the door, the Communists asked for a written response. The next day the text, written in Chinese, was handed over to the authorities. The conclusion of the document was clear:

“Since the movement of the three autonomies (or reform movement) consists in having Chinese bishops, and since only the Pope has the power to appoint them, it follows that it is not the faithful, nor the priests nor even the bishops, but only the Pope who has the power to realize the three autonomies. Any movement of reform made in the Church, by the Pope, would therefore be approved.”

The attitude of our monks at the monastery was worthy of all praise. They showed courage and heroic faith. They had no hope of leaving the country. They had to stand firm in a pernicious persecution which attacked the brain. They were going to face imprisonment, training camps for Marxist ideas. If after the first attempts at “conversion” they remained firm, they knew that they might be released. But they also that the assault would begin again.

In October 1951, the attack on our monks and their group began. At first we were gentle and kind. We tried to convince them by reasoning. In vain. The neighborhood police quickly ran out of arguments and told Brother Peter, who was too educated, to no longer participate in the meetings. They sent him somewhere else, where he took the Bible under his arm. Finally we wanted to intimidate them. A great popular assembly was convened. Our monks were interrogated in turn. ”Why don’t you join the reform movement? You are Chinese. You must separate yourself from the foreign imperialists.” On November 4, a stormy and hostile crowd gathered in our lobby. Brother Pierre gave them a long speech of which a few lines are literally translated here:

“If you say that I have too much confidence and reverence for the foreigner, to the point of allowing myself to be deceived by him, know then that in fact of the foreigners of whom you speak, there is only one alone for me, Jesus Christ the founder of the Catholic religion, a Jew. In him not only, I believe but also, I adore him and I want to live by him and for him. If you say that I am intoxicated by the imperialist to the point of wanting to become a dog (insult hurled at Christians), then this imperialist can only be the one who will never be defeated, the Jew, Jesus Christ. I only regret that so far I have not been fully transformed into a true dog of Christ. So I am ashamed to receive the glorious title you give me.”

As Brother Peter launched his profession of faith to the crowd, silence fell and the public finally listened attentively. This resistance made an impression and stiffened the Catholics against the reform movement. When Brother Pierre had finished his speech, there was a great silence... The superintendent hesitated and finally said: “You are so young. What a pity you don’t have the truth.” This interlocution impressed this pagan who said to our doorman while leaving the Hall, in a low voice, “This young man spoke very well. I will become a Christian after the departure of the communist regime”. After that, Brother Peter was forbidden to speak in public.

The reform movement continued to fill the newspapers. One day we saw Bishop Wang at the monastery. He was the only Chinese bishop who signed the three-autonomy movement. He came to see Father Prior to explain what he had done. Poor Bishop Wang, he looked very miserable, sad and sick. His clergy had rejected him and Chengtu’s [clergy] was very angry with him and did not want to hear his plea. The first priest who had signed this document was Father Wang, the young parish priest of Kwang Yuan. For a long time the police had been bothering him and importuning him, dangling before him the benefits of a national Church. One day the Father was absent, and the local commissioner had a declaration for a reform signed by the local catechist who added to the signatures those of his children. On his return Father Wang did not understand much of the text, which was confusing, and he signed in good faith. The next day the news appeared in big headlines in all the newspapers of Szechwann and then of China. Since that day, Father Wang only traveled accompanied by police officers. He was caught in the net, and forced to sell his ideas of reform.

One Sunday, I had 10 am mass at Chengtu Cathedral. Arriving in the sacristy I saw Father Wang accompanied by several policemen. One of the seminarians told me that Father Wang was going to celebrate the 10 o’clock mass. Father Wang looked haggard. He went up to the altar. As soon as the faithful realized that it was Father Wang, they stopped singing. Mass was always sung by Christians. There was the most absolute silence. No one received Communion. The faithful wanted to leave the church, but the police had closed the doors and put some pictures of Mao on the walls. When the mass was over, the portraits were taken down. On entering the sacristy, Father Wang furtively asked the seminarians whether he was excommunicated. “Of course”, was the answer. Father Wang immediately left with his escort.

After Father Wang’s Mass, I went up to the altar and the singing resumed.

Father Vincent, prior of the Trappists, had been imprisoned and the Trappist monastery closed. The monks, who had been sent home, slowly made their way to Hong Kong and the Lantao Trappist monastery. We were informed that Father Vincent was ill in prison and the police gave us permission to visit him. One of our young postulants, Fan Tin Seng, regularly brought him food and took his clothes to wash. His shirts were full of large bloodstains. The poor man died a few months later in prison, confessor of the faith. He was a very holy monk.

We no longer had freedom of movement. Visiting the sick was dangerous for the family in question. Visiting prisoners was even more difficult. It was young girls who had the courage to give communion and to pass consecrated Hosts to christians into prison. They came almost every week to the monastery to request Hosts. It was easier to come to our house without creating suspicion than to go to the episcopal residence, which was always closely watched.

At the end of 1951, the Communists wanted to be done with the missionaries of Szechwan. They attacked them one last time under the guise of the “Legion of Mary”. They declared the “Legion of Mary” a subversive and reactionary organization directed against the People’s Government of China. For about two weeks the editorials of the day’s newspaper prepared public opinion. We had a cell of the “Legion of Mary” of which the Father Prior was the director. The other monks were “praying” members and not part of the organization as such. The Legion was doing very good work especially among Christians who had abandoned the faith, and brought many back into the fold of the Church. This was a job accomplished in secret that displeased our rulers. There were police raids in all the parishes that had a “Legion: All the ritual objects, and books were confiscated. They also came to our house for the same reason.

All the confiscated objects were exhibited in one of the recreation rooms of the city’s public garden. The whole town, groups from school, factory, trade, districts, filed past in front of these objects. There were crosses, Virgins, images, books etc. The guide explained in detail the subversive activities of the organization, the last bastion of the Catholic Church against the government of the People’s Republic of China. They then displayed the weapons of the “Legion”: a Colt revolver, and a samurai sword (confiscated several months earlier, during a police raid on my office). The line of visitors was endless, as Chengtu had 700,000 inhabitants. Many elderly people had brought folding chairs to rest on . I don’t believe that the public lent great attention. It was too childish. There are limits..

7. [ARREST, TRIAL, and EXILE]

Still, on November 7, 1951, the official journal notified the directors and members of this Association to be registered. The next day Father Prior went to the Foreigners’ Police Office. He was presented with an enrollment register which read: “Legion of Mary, reactionary organization.” He gave back the register saying: “It’s not for me”.- “But you have the Legion of Mary at home”.- “Yes! But not the “Reactionary Legion of Mary!” The other missionaries did the same. On November 9, they were all summoned at 10 a.m. and put in prison. They remained there until February 5, 1952, the day of judgment, when they were sentenced to “perpetual” expulsion from China. The reasons invoked: opposition to the reform movement and membership in the “Legion of Mary

The next day the other monks received the order not to leave the monastery, in order to be better protected by the police. We were under “surveillance”. I was not at the monastery at that time. When I returned, everyone told me the news. It was a Saturday. I officially didn’t know that. The following Monday, I informed the local police that I was going to the foreigners’ office. I wanted to hear verbally the reason for our “surveillance”. The Office was filled with worried and sad Christians, called to register as members of the “Legion of Mary”. I walked over to the policeman and asked him the reason for our, “domicille surveillance”  The somewhat scruffy policeman got up, left the room, and came back clean, the cape on his head. “What are you doing here? - “Why are we under surveillance?” - “To protect you”. - “Protect against whom? We never had any difficulties with our neighbors or the townspeople. Everyone is polite and friendly. I don’t understand how suddenly in an organized country like yours, surveillance is necessary.” As I did not receive an answer, I renewed my question of where the order came from, from the local police or from Mao. I told him that Mao had guaranteed the freedom of foreigners. Finally, he replied: “ From the police. “- “Thank you.”

I was ready to leave when the furious policeman kicked me from under the table. I became furious in my turn.  Other policemen came to see what was going on. “I thought we had civilized police here in Chengtu. You have no right to hit me because I haven’t done anything wrong.” I kicked him back in the legs. So the chief of the police said to me: “Go home immediately and don’t come out.” I had my bike. The journey between the monastery and the office could take 10 to 15 minutes. I looked at my watch and told them, “I’ll be home in an hour.” I looked at the Christians around me, they were dismayed. I strolled back through town. I remember that I stood for a while contemplating the old imperial palace from the time of the Warring States, in the process of being restored. The restoration was very good. I thus enjoyed my last moments of freedom in Chengtu. Back at the monastery, a policeman was at the front door.

Father Prior had appointed Father Gaetan, superior of the house until his departure. Poor Father Gaetan, Fr. Eleutherius and Father Emile had a lot of trouble after my departure.

I did not leave the monastery again until my departure at the end of January 1952. One after another the monks were expelled, first Father Alberic, then Father Hildebrand. My turn finally came. Three days before leaving, I was summoned to the foreigners’ office. I remember that the “wasp” was there. This was the name of a young policewoman who was truly cruel and surly in the interrogations. I learned later that she was a young Christian who had been expelled from Catholic schools but whose Father, who worked for the governmenr, had been put in prison. She tried to save her family by being zealous. Upon arriving in Hong Kong I learned that the poor creature had committed suicide.

The chief of police read the expulsion order to me. The document said: the people had demanded the death penalty for my reactionary and subversive activities against the Chinese people. But due to the kindness and mercy of the Government of the People’s Republic of China, this sentence was commuted to lifelong banishment. I received the order to leave immediately. There were no longer those great popular gatherings where a public judgment was demanded. It is probable that these convocations did not have much success.

I left Chengtu with Fr. Korvachek, SVD a new refugee and Mrs. Yuen. She was Belgian and her husband Chinese. She had to leave and her husband had to stay. They had lived in one of the houses on our property. Mr. & Mrs. Yuen were very good people. We spent many pleasant hours together. We supported them morally during these difficult years and they also put balm on our wounds. Mr. Yuen had worked at the French consulate as a chemical engineer and prepared vaccines for the Catholic hospital. He lost his job with the closing of the Chengtu consulate and after that he lived with us with his wife. Mr. Yuen helped us a great deal, he was a man able to do everything and to do everything perfectly. Ms. Yuen received [guests] in her home. These many friends visited her often. It was at her place that we met, among others, Mrs.David Neel.

In the early morning some kitchen workers came to say goodbye to me, with tears in their eyes. They led me to the door. This morning , Lao Yuen brought me my hot water basin while crying. There remained at the monastery Fathers Eleutherius, Emile, Gaetan, Paul, Brother Peter and Fan Tin Seng. The rickshaws were ready. Mr. Yuen came with us to the bus station, he was crying because he knew he would never see his wife again. (Mr. Yuen died a few years later in Chengtu). There was with us a young Protestant missionary, a large charming young man. At the last stop, I had to present myself before the police before taking a room in the hotel indicated by our hosts. The next morning we left early for Chungking. The trip through the countryside covered with bright yellow rapeseed, wrung my heart. How beautiful it was and we had to leave it!

Arriving in Chungking in the evening, we were put in a hotel for foreigners. Two missionaries came to increase our ranks. The next day brought a visit to the police, then a summons to the police office and re-examination as usual. What a waste of time! This time I was questioned about the financial activities of our monastery. Why ? I learned the reason for this interrogation in Hong Kong. Father Raphael told me that after I left the police discovered the origin of the wine we had in Chengtu. The local government wanted the monastery to restore the cost of the wine. Father Raphael, a fine diplomat, haggled to the end, telling them that they had to wait for Father Werner’s arrival in Hong Kong to receive the desired sum.

Returning to the hotel, I found Mrs. Yuen worried and the other missionaries too, because the date of the departure by boat for Han Kow had just been delayed. It was [a time of] uncertainty. However, we had free movement in town. I met a French missionary, Chinese priests who were very surprised to see me. They had been told by the newspapers that Father Raphael and Father Werner had been executed. There were new interrogations and delays of our departure. We stayed 5 days in Chungking.

The boat was full of people. What a superb trip through the province of Szechwan and the Blue River Gorge! The 400-ton boat was moving rapidly down the river. We had good cabins on the deck of the ship and we could admire the beauty of the gorges at ease. The food was good.  The captain maneuvered his boat admirably in the rapids at 25 kilometers per hour. Waves were splashing against the deck and we were shaking from having to hold on tightly to keep from being thrown into the river. On the cliffs which dominated the gorges, there were a large number of beached boats, clinging to the rocks, victims of the rapid flooding of the waters. Usually at the exit of a rapid, there were on the bank a good number of small boats and waiting boatmen... The whirlpools of water in the center of a smooth and heavy water surface were even more dangerous. for small tonnage boats. The trip to Hankow lasted three days, three delicious days, without police interrogations.

In Hankow we went to visit the mission where there was still a European missionary. We exchanged views and news. It was always interesting to learn something new. Father expected to be expelled. He knew Father Korvacek, SVD. In the evening we took the train to Canton. We were put in first class by our friends from the police. I remember that we passed a lot of freight trains. Canton, a beautiful city with a very busy fishing port. There was still a missionary from the Foreign Missions. With him I went to visit the Consul of France, a friend of his and who obviously wanted to have news from the interior of China. The world was hungry for news other than that offered in the newspapers. As usual, we received the order to wait before taking our train ticket to Hong Kong. The wait lasted two days. Finally the police examined our luggage. I had a collection of paintings with me. They weren’t touched. I had a collection of silver and jade objects; this did not interest them. But the collection of old Chinese coins was confiscated as well as the collection of special edition banknotes,. I had a nice special edition collection.

The arrival in Hong Kong was sensational. The train stops in front of the bridge that separates colony 9 from China. On one side of the bridge the Chinese flag, on the other the English flag. Between the two on the bridge a whole series of barriers, like a labyrinth: at the two ends of the barriers are armed soldiers. The view of the English flag and the point of freedom is too difficult a thing to describe. I was tempted to run on the bridge. Father Kovachek held me back: “Don’t do that. You could be shot.” We slowly entered the maze and spontaneously I shook hands with the English soldier on the other side.

A Father of the Foreign Missions of Milan welcomed us kindly. What a joy to breathe pure air, the pure air of the sea!

 ’ “”.