was taken as a safe test, for annual confession is essential, and its integrity is equally demanded under pain of mortal sin. However the Walloon boasted that you could believe a Walloon in the confessional, but certainly not a Fleming. The Fleming admitted that it was true, but he added: ‘You can believe a Walloon when you get him, for he only comes to confess twice in his life, at his first communion and at death.’ They were both old missionaries, and their points were quite confirmed by the others present.
Moreover I had a more intimate experience of the country, which confirmed my low estimate of its Catholicism. During the Easter vacation I migrated to a small convent in the country, about ten miles south of Brussels. The superior of the convent obtained jurisdiction for me, and I did much service in the chapel of the Comtesse de Meeus, in our own great solid iron church at Argenteuil (well known to Waterloo visitors), and in the parish church at Ohain. We monks were forbidden under pain of suspension to assist the dying or to hear Easter confessions: I soon found that if we did not do so a great many people would manage to do without the sacraments. I assisted three dying persons: one was already unconscious and could only be anointed, and her friends were utterly indifferent about even that; another, a young man, had to be coaxed into making his confession, but refused point blank to receive
