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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Child's Book of Saints + +Author: William Canton + +Illustrator: T. H. Robinson + +Release Date: July 20, 2007 [EBook #22112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHILD'S BOOK OF SAINTS *** + + + + +<b>Produced by Al Haines</b> + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +A Child's Book of Saints +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +William Canton +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +With illustrations by +<BR> +T. H. Robinson +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="dedication"> +This is fairy gold, boy;<BR> +And I will prove it so.<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">—Shakespeare</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="dedication"> +Every man I will go with thee, be thy guide<BR> +in thy most need to go by thy side.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +London +<BR> +Published by J. M. Dent & Co. +<BR> +and in New York by +<BR> +E. P. Dutton & Co. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +First Edition, March 1906. +<BR> +Reprinted May 1906. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +EDITOR'S NOTE. +</H3> + +<P> +"A Child's Book of Saints" was first published in 1898, when Mr. Canton +had already found his audience. The book is a near successor indeed to +his "W. V.: Her Book," and to "The Invisible Playmate"; and W. V. again +acts as guardian elf and guide to this new region of the child's +earthly paradise. The Saints are here treated with a simplicity that +is almost or altogether childlike, and with an unforced imagination +which is only to be learnt by becoming as a child. And this is perhaps +why, although comparatively a new book, it has the air of something +pleasantly old, and written long ago; and thus wins its way into the +children's library of old favourite authors. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Mr. Canton's published works, up to January 1906, comprise:—"A Lost +Epic, and other Poems," 1887. "The Invisible Playmate: a Story of the +Unseen," 1894, 1897. "W. V., Her Book and Various Verses," 1896. "A +Child's Book of Saints," 1898, 1902. "Children's Sayings, Edited, with +a Digression on the Small People," 1900. "The True Annals of +Fairyland" (The Reign of King Herla), 1900, &c. "In Memory of W. V." +(Winifred Vida Canton), 1901. "The Comrades: Poems, Old and New," +1902. "What is the Bible Society?" 1903. "The Story of the Bible +Society," 1904. "A History of the British and Foreign Bible Society," +1904. "Little Hands and God's Book: a Sketch of the Bible Society," +1804-1904, 1905. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Contents +</H2> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<A HREF="#chap01">IN THE FOREST OF STONE</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE SONG OF THE MINSTER</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE PILGRIM OF A NIGHT</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap04">THE ANCIENT GODS PURSUING</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE DREAM OF THE WHITE LARK</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE HERMIT OF THE PILLAR</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap07">KENACH'S LITTLE WOMAN</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap08">GOLDEN APPLES AND ROSES RED</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE SEVEN YEARS OF SEEKING</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE GUARDIANS OF THE DOOR</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap11">ON THE SHORES OF LONGING</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE CHILDREN OF SPINALUNGA</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE SIN OF THE PRINCE BISHOP</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap14">THE LITTLE BEDESMAN OF CHRIST</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap15">THE BURNING OF ABBOT SPIRIDION</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap16">THE COUNTESS ITHA</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE STORY OF THE LOST BROTHER</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap18">THE KING ORGULOUS</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE JOURNEY OF RHEINFRID</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap20">LIGHTING THE LAMPS</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +List of Illustrations +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-009"> +Women lived the life of prayer and praise and austerity and miracle +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-025"> +"These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-039"> +Hilary wondered and mused +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-051"> +A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-067"> +"Come not any nearer, turn thy face to the forest, +and go down" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-073"> +"I am not mad, most noble Sapricius" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-111"> +They won their long sea-way home +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-121"> +"And four good Angels watch my bed, two at the foot +and two the head" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-127"> +And again in the keen November +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-141"> +The eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-149"> +"Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful +house than this" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-155"> +St. Francis of Assisi +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-185"> +Itha rode away with her lord +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-215"> +King Orgulous +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P> +<I>A saint, whose very name I have forgotten, had a vision, in which he +saw Satan standing before the throne of God; and, listening, he heard +the evil spirit say, "Why hast Thou condemned me, who have offended +Thee but once, whilst Thou savest thousands of men who have offended +Thee many times?" God answered him, "Hast thou</I> once <I>asked pardon of +me?"</I> +</P> + +<P> +<I>Behold the Christian mythology! It is the dramatic truth, which has +its worth and effect independently of the literal truth, and which even +gains nothing by being fact. What matter whether the saint had or had +not heard the sublime words which I have just quoted! The great point +is to know that pardon is refused only to him who does not ask it.</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +COUNT DE MAISTRE. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +A Child's Book of Saints +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +In the Forest of Stone +</H3> + +<P> +Looking down the vista of trees and houses from the slope of our +garden, W. V. saw the roof and spire of the church of the Oak-men +showing well above the green huddle of the Forest. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a pretty big church, isn't it, father?" she asked, as she +pointed it out to me. +</P> + +<P> +It was a most picturesque old-fashioned church, though in my +thoughtlessness I had mistaken it for a beech and a tall poplar growing +apparently side by side; but the moment she spoke I perceived my +illusion. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect, if we were anywhere about on a Sunday morning," she +surmised, with a laugh, "we should see hundreds and hundreds of +Oak-girls and Oak-boys going in schools to service." +</P> + +<P> +"Dressed in green silk, with bronze boots and pink feathers—the +colours of the new oak-leaves, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, father, it would be lovely!" in a burst of ecstasy. "Oughtn't we +to go and find the way to their church?" +</P> + +<P> +We might do something much less amusing. Accordingly we took the +bearings of the green spire with the skill of veteran explorers. It +lay due north, so that if we travelled by the way of the North Star we +should be certain to find it. Wheeling the Man before us, we made a +North Star track for ourselves through the underwood and over last +year's rustling beech-leaves, till Guy ceased babbling and crooning, +and dropped into a slumber, as he soon does in the fresh of the +morning. Then we had to go slowly for fear he should be wakened by the +noise of the dead wood underfoot, for, as we passed over it with wheels +and boots, it snapped and crackled like a freshly-kindled fire. It was +a relief to get at last to the soft matting of brown needles and cones +under the Needle-trees, for there we could go pretty quickly without +either jolting him or making a racket. +</P> + +<P> +We went as far as we were able that day, and we searched in glade and +lawn, in coppice and dingle, but never a trace could we find of the +sylvan minster where the Oak-people worship. As we wandered through +the Forest we came upon a number of notice boards nailed high up on the +trunks of various trees, but when W. V. discovered that these only +repeated the same stern legend: "Caution. Persons breaking, climbing +upon, or otherwise damaging," she indignantly resented this incessant +intrusion on the innocent enjoyment of free foresters. How much nicer +it would have been if there had been a hand on one of these repressive +boards, with the inscription: "This way to the North Star Church;" or, +if a caution was really necessary for some of the people who entered +the Forest, to say: "The public are requested not to disturb the Elves, +Birch-ladies, and Oak-men;" but of course the most delightful thing +would be to have a different fairy-tale written up in clear letters on +each of the boards, and a seat close by where one could rest and read +it comfortably. +</P> + +<P> +I told her there were several forests I had explored, in which +something like that was really done; only the stories were not +fairy-tales, but legends of holy men and women; and among the branches +of the trees were fixed most beautifully coloured glass pictures of +those holy people, who had all lived and died, and some of whom had +been buried, in those forests, hundreds of years ago. Most of the +forests were very ancient—older than the thrones of many kingdoms; and +men lived and delighted in them long before Columbus sailed into +unknown seas to discover America. Many, indeed, had been blown down +and destroyed by a terrible storm which swept over the world when Henry +VIII. ruled in England, and only wrecks of them now remained for any +one to see, but others, which had survived the wild weather of those +days, were as wonderful and as lovely as a dream. The tall trees in +them sent out curving branches which interlaced high overhead, shutting +out the blue sky and making a sweet and solemn dimness, and nearly all +the light that streamed in between the fair round trunks and the +arching boughs was like that of a splendid sunset, only it was there +all day long and never faded out till night fell. And in some of the +forests there were great magical roses, of a hundred brilliant colours +crowded together, and as big as the biggest cart-wheel, or bigger. +</P> + +<P> +These woods were places of happy quietude and comfort and gladness of +heart; but, instead of Oak-men, there were many Angels. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there, too, in the silent avenues, mighty warriors and saintly +abbots, and statesmen bishops, and it might be even a king or a queen, +had been buried; and over their graves there were sometimes images of +them lying carved in marble or alabaster, and sometimes there had been +built the loveliest little chapels all sculptured over with tracery of +flowers and foliage. +</P> + +<P> +"True, father?" +</P> + +<P> +"True as true, dear. Some day I shall take you to see for yourself." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +We know a dip in a dingle where the woodcutters have left a log among +the hazels, and here, having wheeled Guy into a dappling of sunny discs +and leaf-shadows in a grassy bay, we sat down on the log, and talked in +an undertone. Our failure to find the Oak-men's church reminded me of +the old legends of lost and invisible churches, the bells of which are +heard ringing under the snow, or in the depths of the woods, or far +away in burning deserts, or fathom-deep beneath the blue sea; but the +pilgrim or the chance wayfarer who has heard the music of the bells has +never succeeded in discovering the way that leads to the lost church. +It is on the clear night of St. John's Day, the longest day of the +year, or on the last hour of Christmas Eve, that these bells are heard +pealing most sweet and clear. +</P> + +<P> +It was in this way that we came to tell Christian legends and to talk +of saints and hermits, of old abbeys and minsters, of visions and +miracles and the ministry of Angels. Guy, W. V. thought, might be +able, if only he could speak, to tell us much about heaven and the +Angels; it was so short a time since he left them. She herself had +quite forgotten, but, then—deprecatingly—it was so long and long and +long ago; "eight years, a long time for me." +</P> + +<P> +The faith and the strange vivid daydreams of the Middle Ages were a new +world into which she was being led along enchanted footpaths; quite +different from the worldly world of the "Old Romans," and of English +history; more real it seemed and more credible, for all its wonders, +than the world of elves and water-maidens. Delightful as it was, it +was scarce believable that fairies ever carried a little girl up above +the tree-tops and swung her in the air from one to another; but when +St. Catherine of Siena was a little child, and went to be a hermit in +the woods, and got terribly frightened, and lost her way, and sat down +to cry, the Angels, you know, did really and truly waft her up on their +wings and carried her to the valley of Fontebranda, which was very near +home. And when she was quite a little thing and used to say her +prayers going up to bed, the Angels would come to her and just "whip" +her right up the stairs in an instant! +</P> + +<P> +Occasionally these legends brought us to the awful brink of religious +controversies and insoluble mysteries, but, like those gentle savages +who honour the water-spirits by hanging garlands from tree to tree +across the river, W. V. could always fling a bridge of flowers over our +abysses. "Our sense," she would declare, "is nothing to God's; and +though big people have more sense than children, the sense of all the +big people in the world put together would be no sense to His." "We +are only little babies to Him; we do not understand Him at all." +Nothing seemed clearer to her than the reasonableness of one legend +which taught that though God always answers our prayers, He does not +always answer in the way we would like, but in some better way than we +know. "Yes," she observed, "He is just a dear old Father." Anything +about our Lord engrossed her imagination; and it was a frequent wish of +hers that He would come again. "Then,"—poor perplexed little mortal! +whose difficulties one could not even guess at—"we should be quite +sure of things. Miss Catherine tells us from books: He would tell us +from His memory. People would not be so cruel to Him now. Queen +Victoria would not allow any one to crucify Him." +</P> + +<P> +I don't think that W. V., in spite of her confidence in my good faith, +was quite convinced of the existence of those old forests of which I +had told her, until I explained that they were forests of stone, which, +if men did not mar them, would blossom for centuries unchanged, though +the hands that planted them had long been blown in dust about the +world. She understood all that I meant when we visited York and +Westminster, and walked through the long avenues of stone palms and +pines, with their overarching boughs, and gazed at the marvellous +rose-windows in which all the jewels of the world seemed to have been +set, and saw the colours streaming through the gorgeous lancets and +high many-lighted casements. After that it was delightful to turn over +engravings and photographs of ruined abbeys and famous old churches at +home and abroad, and to anticipate the good time when we should visit +them together, and perhaps not only descend into the crypts but go +through the curious galleries which extend over the pillars of the +nave, and even climb up to the leaded roof of the tower, or dare the +long windy staircases and ladders which mount into the spire, and so +look down on the quaint map of streets, and houses, and gardens, and +squares, hundreds of feet below. +</P> + +<P> +She liked to hear how some of those miracles of stone had been +fashioned and completed—how monks in the days of old had travelled +over the land with the relics of saints, collecting treasure of all +sorts for the expense of the work; how sometimes the people came in +hundreds dragging great oaks and loads of quarried stone, and bringing +fat hogs, beans, corn, and beer for the builders and their workmen; how +even queens carried block or beam to the masons, so that with their own +hands they might help in the glorious labour; and poor old women gave +assistance by cooking food and washing and spinning and weaving and +making and mending; how when the foundations were blessed kings and +princes and powerful barons laid each a stone, and when the choir sang +the antiphon, "And the foundations of the wall were garnished with all +manner of precious stones," they threw costly rings and jewels and +chains of gold into the trench; and how years and generations passed +away, and abbots and bishops and architects and masons and sculptors +and labourers died, but new men took their places, and still the vast +work went on, and the beautiful pile rose higher and higher into the +everlasting heavens. +</P> + +<P> +Then, too, we looked back at the vanished times when the world was all +so different from our world of to-day; and in green and fruitful spots +among the hills and on warm river-lawns and in olden cities of narrow +streets and overhanging roofs, there were countless abbeys and priories +and convents; and thousands of men and women lived the life of prayer +and praise and austerity and miracle and vision which is described in +the legends of the Saints. We lingered in the pillared cloisters where +the black-letter chronicles were written in Latin, and music was scored +and hymns were composed, and many a rare manuscript was illuminated in +crimson and blue and emerald and gold; and we looked through the fair +arches into the cloister-garth where in the green sward a grave lay +ever ready to receive the remains of the next brother who should pass +away from this little earth to the glory of Paradise. What struck W. +V. perhaps most of all was, that in some leafy places these holy houses +were so ancient that even the blackbirds and throstles had learned to +repeat some of the cadences of the church music, and in those places +the birds still continue to pipe them, though nothing now remains of +church or monastery except the name of some field or street or well, +which people continue to use out of old habit and custom. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-009"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-009.jpg" ALT="_Women lived the life of prayer and praise_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="384" HEIGHT="553"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 384px"> +<I>Women lived the life of prayer and praise</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was with the thought of helping the busy little brain to realise +something of that bygone existence, with its strange modes of thought, +its unquestioning faith in the unseen and eternal, its vivid +consciousness of the veiled but constant presence of the holy and +omnipotent God, its stern self-repression and its tender charity, its +lovely ideals and haunting legends, that I told W. V. the stories in +this little book. It mattered little to her or to me that that +existence had its dark shadows contrasting with its celestial light: it +was the light that concerned us, not the shadows. +</P> + +<P> +Some of the stories were told on the log, while Guy slept in his +mail-cart in the dappled shelter of the dingle; others by a winter fire +when the days were short, and the cry of the wind in the dark made it +easy for one to believe in wolves; others in the Surrey hills, a year +ago, in a sandy hollow crowned with bloom of the ling, and famous for a +little pool where the martins alight to drink and star the mud with a +maze of claw-tracks; and yet again, others, this year,[1] under the dry +roof of the pines of Anstiebury, when the fosse of the old Briton +settlement was dripping with wet, and the woods were dim with the smoke +of rain, and the paths were red with the fallen bloom of the red +chestnuts and white with the flourish of May and brown with the catkins +of the oak, and the cuckoo, calling in Mosses Wood, was answered from +Redlands and the Warren, and the pines where we sat (snug and dry) +looked so solemn and dark that, with a little fancy, it was easy to +change the living greenwood into the forest of stone. +</P> + +<P> +As they were told, under the pressure of an insatiable listener, so +have they been written, save for such a phrase, here and there, as +slips more readily from the pen than from the tongue. +</P> + +<P> +Of the stories which were told, but which have not been written for +this book, if W. V. should question me, I shall answer in the wise +words of the Greybeard of Broce-Liande: "However hot thy thirst, and +however pleasant to assuage it, leave clear water in the well." +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] The year of the happy hills, 1898. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Song of the Minster +</H3> + +<P> +When John of Fulda became Prior of Hethholme, says the old chronicle, +he brought with him to the Abbey many rare and costly books—beautiful +illuminated missals and psalters and portions of the Old and New +Testament. And he presented rich vestments to the Minster; albs of +fine linen, and copes embroidered with flowers of gold. In the west +front he built two great arched windows filled with marvellous storied +glass. The shrine of St. Egwin he repaired at vast outlay, adorning it +with garlands in gold and silver, but the colour of the flowers was in +coloured gems, and in like fashion the little birds in the nooks of the +foliage. Stalls and benches of carved oak he placed in the choir; and +many other noble works he had wrought in his zeal for the glory of +God's house. +</P> + +<P> +In all the western land was there no more fair or stately Minster than +this of the Black Monks, with the peaceful township on one side, and on +the other the sweet meadows and the acres of wheat and barley sloping +down to the slow river, and beyond the river the clearings in the +ancient forest. +</P> + +<P> +But Thomas the Sub-prior was grieved and troubled in his mind by the +richness and the beauty of all he saw about him, and by the Prior's +eagerness to be ever adding some new work in stone, or oak, or metal, +or jewels. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," he said to himself, "these things are unprofitable—less to +the honour of God than to the pleasure of the eye and the pride of life +and the luxury of our house! Had so much treasure not been wasted on +these vanities of bright colour and carved stone, our dole to the poor +of Christ might have been fourfold, and they filled with good things. +But now let our almoner do what best he may, I doubt not many a leper +sleeps cold, and many a poor man goes lean with hunger." +</P> + +<P> +This the Sub-prior said, not because his heart was quick with +fellowship for the poor, but because he was of a narrow and gloomy and +grudging nature, and he could conceive of no true service of God which +was not one of fasting and praying, of fear and trembling, of +joylessness and mortification. +</P> + +<P> +Now you must know that the greatest of the monks and the hermits and +the holy men were not of this kind. In their love of God they were +blithe of heart, and filled with a rare sweetness and tranquillity of +soul, and they looked on the goodly earth with deep joy, and they had a +tender care for the wild creatures of wood and water. But Thomas had +yet much to learn of the beauty of holiness. +</P> + +<P> +Often in the bleak dark hours of the night he would leave his cell and +steal into the Minster, to fling himself on the cold stones before the +high altar; and there he would remain, shivering and praying, till his +strength failed him. +</P> + +<P> +It happened one winter night, when the thoughts I have spoken of had +grown very bitter in his mind, Thomas guided his steps by the glimmer +of the sanctuary lamp to his accustomed place in the choir. Falling on +his knees, he laid himself on his face with the palms of his +outstretched hands flat on the icy pavement. And as he lay there, +taking a cruel joy in the freezing cold and the torture of his body, he +became gradually aware of a sound of far-away yet most heavenly music. +</P> + +<P> +He raised himself to his knees to listen, and to his amazement he +perceived that the whole Minster was pervaded by a faint mysterious +light, which was every instant growing brighter and clearer. And as +the light increased the music grew louder and sweeter, and he knew that +it was within the sacred walls. But it was no mortal minstrelsy. +</P> + +<P> +The strains he heard were the minglings of angelic instruments, and the +cadences of voices of unearthly loveliness. They seemed to proceed +from the choir about him, and from the nave and transept and aisles; +from the pictured windows and from the clerestory and from the vaulted +roofs. Under his knees he felt that the crypt was throbbing and +droning like a huge organ. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes the song came from one part of the Minster, and then all the +rest of the vast building was silent; then the music was taken up, as +it were in response, in another part; and yet again voices and +instruments would blend in one indescribable volume of harmony, which +made the huge pile thrill and vibrate from roof to pavement. +</P> + +<P> +As Thomas listened, his eyes became accustomed to the celestial light +which encompassed him, and he saw—he could scarce credit his senses +that he saw—the little carved angels of the oak stalls in the choir +clashing their cymbals and playing their psalteries. +</P> + +<P> +He rose to his feet, bewildered and half terrified. At that moment the +mighty roll of unison ceased, and from many parts of the church there +came a concord of clear high voices, like a warbling of silver +trumpets, and Thomas heard the words they sang. And the words were +these— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em"><I>Tibi omnes Angeli.</I></SPAN><BR> +<I>To Thee all Angels cry aloud.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P> +So close to him were two of these voices that Thomas looked up to the +spandrels in the choir, and he saw that it was the carved angels +leaning out of the spandrels that were singing. And as they sang the +breath came from their stone lips white and vaporous into the frosty +air. +</P> + +<P> +He trembled with awe and astonishment, but the wonder of what was +happening drew him towards the altar. The beautiful tabernacle work of +the altar screen contained a double range of niches filled with the +statues of saints and kings; and these, he saw, were singing. He +passed slowly onward with his arms outstretched, like a blind man who +does not know the way he is treading. +</P> + +<P> +The figures on the painted glass of the lancets were singing. +</P> + +<P> +The winged heads of the baby angels over the marble memorial slabs were +singing. +</P> + +<P> +The lions and griffons and mythical beasts of the finials were singing. +</P> + +<P> +The effigies of dead abbots and priors were singing on their tombs in +bay and chantry. +</P> + +<P> +The figures in the frescoes on the walls were singing. +</P> + +<P> +On the painted ceiling westward of the tower the verses of the Te Deum, +inscribed in letters of gold above the shields of kings and princes and +barons, were visible in the divine light, and the very words of these +verses were singing, like living things. +</P> + +<P> +And the breath of all these as they sang turned to a smoke as of +incense in the wintry air, and floated about the high pillars of the +Minster. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the music ceased, all save the deep organ-drone. +</P> + +<P> +Then Thomas heard the marvellous antiphon repeated in the bitter +darkness outside; and that music, he knew, must be the response of the +galleries of stone kings and queens, of abbots and virgin martyrs, over +the western portals, and of the monstrous gargoyles along the eaves. +</P> + +<P> +When the music ceased in the outer darkness, it was taken up again in +the interior of the Minster. +</P> + +<P> +At last there came one stupendous united cry of all the singers, and in +that cry even the organ-drone of the crypt, and the clamour of the +brute stones of pavement and pillar, of wall and roof, broke into words +articulate. And the words were these: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em"><I>Per singulos dies, benedicimus Te.</I></SPAN><BR> +<I>Day by day: we magnify Thee,</I><BR> +<I>And we worship Thy name: ever world without end.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As the wind of the summer changes into the sorrowful wail of the +yellowing woods, so the strains of joyous worship changed into a wail +of supplication; and as he caught the words, Thomas too raised his +voice in wild entreaty: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em"><I>Miserere nostri, Domine, miserere nostri.</I></SPAN><BR> +<I>O Lord, have mercy upon us: have mercy upon us.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P> +And then his senses failed him, and he sank to the ground in a long +swoon. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When he came to himself all was still, and all was dark save for the +little yellow flower of light in the sanctuary lamp. +</P> + +<P> +As he crept back to his cell he saw with unsealed eyes how churlishly +he had grudged God the glory of man's genius and the service of His +dumb creatures, the metal of the hills, and the stone of the quarry, +and the timber of the forest; for now he knew that at all seasons, and +whether men heard the music or not, the ear of God was filled by day +and by night with an everlasting song from each stone of the vast +Minster: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>We magnify Thee,</I><BR> +<I>And we worship Thy name: ever world without end.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Pilgrim of a Night +</H3> + +<P> +In the ancient days of faith the doors of the churches used to be +opened with the first glimmer of the dawn in summer, and long before +the moon had set in winter; and many a ditcher and woodcutter and +ploughman on his way to work used to enter and say a short prayer +before beginning the labour of the long day. +</P> + +<P> +Now it happened that in Spain there was a farm-labourer named Isidore, +who went daily to his early prayer, whatever the weather might be. His +fellow-workmen were slothful and careless, and they gibed and jeered at +his piety, but when they found that their mockery had no effect upon +him, they spoke spitefully of him in the hearing of the master, and +accused him of wasting in prayer the time which he should have given to +his work. +</P> + +<P> +When the farmer heard of this he was displeased, and he spoke to +Isidore and bade him remember that true and faithful service was better +than any prayer that could be uttered in words. +</P> + +<P> +"Master," replied Isidore, "what you say is true, but it is also true +that no time is ever lost in prayer. Those who pray have God to work +with them, and the ploughshare which He guides draws as goodly and +fruitful a furrow as another." +</P> + +<P> +This the master could not deny, but he resolved to keep a watch on +Isidore's comings and goings, and early on the morrow he went to the +fields. +</P> + +<P> +In the sharp air of the autumn morning he saw this one and that one of +his men sullenly following the plough behind the oxen, and taking +little joy in the work. Then, as he passed on to the rising ground, he +heard a lark carolling gaily in the grey sky, and in the hundred-acre +where Isidore was engaged he saw to his amazement not one plough but +three turning the hoary stubble into ruddy furrows. And one plough was +drawn by oxen and guided by Isidore, but the two others were drawn and +guided by Angels of heaven. +</P> + +<P> +When next the master spoke to Isidore it was not to reproach him, but +to beg that he might be remembered in his prayers. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now the one great longing of Isidore's life was to visit that hallowed +and happy country beyond the sea in which our Lord lived and died for +us. He longed to gaze on the fields in which the Shepherds heard the +song of the Angels, and to know each spot named in the Gospels. All +that he could save from his earnings Isidore hoarded up, so that one +day, before he was old, he might set out on pilgrimage to the Holy +Land. It took many years to swell the leather bag in which he kept his +treasure; and each coin told of some pleasure, or comfort, or necessary +which he had denied himself. +</P> + +<P> +Now, when at length the bag was grown heavy, and it began to appear not +impossible that he might yet have his heart's desire, there came to his +door an aged pilgrim with staff and scallop-shell, who craved food and +shelter for the night. Isidore bade him welcome, and gave him such +homely fare as he might—bread and apples and cheese and thin wine, and +satisfied his hunger and thirst. +</P> + +<P> +Long they talked together of the holy places and of the joy of treading +the sacred dust that had borne the marks of the feet of Christ. Then +the pilgrim spoke of the long and weary journey he had yet to go, +begging his way from village to village (for his scrip was empty) till +he could prevail on some good mariner to give him ship-room and carry +him to the green isle of home, far away on the edge of sunset. +Thinking of those whom he had left and who might be dead before he +could return, the pilgrim wept, and his tears so moved the heart of +Isidore that he brought forth his treasure and said: +</P> + +<P> +"This have I saved in the great hope that one day I might set eyes on +what thou hast beheld, and sit on the shores of the Lake of Galilee, +and gaze on the hill of Calvary. But thy need is very great. Take it, +and hasten home (ere they be dead) to those who love thee and look for +thy coming; and if thou findest them alive bid them pray for me." +</P> + +<P> +And when they had prayed together Isidore and the pilgrim lay down to +sleep. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the first sweet hours of the restful night Isidore became aware that +he was walking among strange fields on a hillside, and on the top of a +hill some distance away there were the white walls and low flat-roofed +houses of a little town; and some one was speaking to him and saying, +"These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched, and that rocky +pathway leads up the slope to Bethlehem." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-025"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-025.jpg" ALT=""_These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched_"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="383" HEIGHT="567"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 420px"> +"<I>These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched</I>" +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +At the sound of the voice Isidore hastily looked round, and behind him +was the pilgrim, and yet he knew that it was not truly the pilgrim, but +an Angel disguised in pilgrim's weeds. And when he would have fallen +at the Angel's feet, the Angel stopped him and said, "Be not afraid; I +have been sent to show thee all the holy places that thy heart has +longed to see." +</P> + +<P> +On valley and hill and field and stream there now shone so clear and +wonderful a light that even a long way off the very flowers by the +roadside were distinctly visible. Without effort and without weariness +Isidore glided from place to place as though it were a dream. And I +cannot tell the half of what he saw, for the Angel took him to the +village where Jesus was a little child, which is called Nazareth, "the +flower-village;" and he showed him the River Jordan flowing through +dark green woods, and Hermon the high mountain, glittering with snow +(and the snow of that mountain is exceeding old), and the blue Lake of +Gennesareth, with its fishing-craft, and the busy town of Capernaum on +the great road to Damascus, and Nain where Jesus watched the little +children playing at funerals and marriages in the market-place, and the +wilderness where He was with the wild beasts, and Bethany where Lazarus +lived and died and was brought to life again (and in the fields of +Bethany Isidore gathered a bunch of wild flowers), and Jerusalem the +holy city, and Gethsemane with its aged silver-grey olive-trees, and +the hill of Calvary, where in the darkness a great cry went up to +heaven: "Why hast Thou forsaken me?" and the new tomb in the white rock +among the myrtles and rose-trees in the garden. +</P> + +<P> +There was no place that Isidore had desired to see that was denied to +him. And in all these places he saw the children's children of the +children of those who had looked on the face of the Saviour—men and +women and little ones—going to and fro in strangely coloured clothing, +in the manner of those who had sat down on the green grass and been fed +with bread and fishes. And at the thought of this Isidore wept. +</P> + +<P> +"Why dost thou weep?" the Angel asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I weep that I was not alive to look on the face of the Lord." +</P> + +<P> +Then suddenly, as though it were a dream, they were on the sea-shore, +and it was morning. And Isidore saw on the sparkling sea a fisher-ship +drifting a little way from the shore, but there was no one in it; and +on the shore a boat was aground; and half on the sand and half in the +wash of the sea there were swathes of brown nets filled with a hundred +great fish which flounced and glittered in the sun; and on the sand +there was a coal fire with fish broiling on it, and on one side of the +fire seven men—one of them kneeling and shivering in his drenched +fisher's coat—and on the other side of the fire a benign and majestic +figure, on whom the men were gazing in great joy and awe. And Isidore, +knowing that this was the Lord, gazed too at Christ standing there in +the sun. +</P> + +<P> +And this was what he beheld: a man of lofty stature and most grave and +beautiful countenance. His eyes were blue and very brilliant, his +cheeks were slightly tinged with red, and his hair was of the ruddy +golden colour of wine. From the top of his head to his ears it was +straight and without radiance; but from his ears to his shoulders and +down his back it fell in shining curls and clusters. +</P> + +<P> +Again all was suddenly changed, and Isidore and the Angel were alone. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou hast seen," said the Angel; "give me thy hand so that thou shalt +not forget." +</P> + +<P> +Isidore stretched out his hand, and the Angel opened it, and turning +the palm upward, struck it. Isidore groaned with the sharp pain of the +stroke, and sank into unconsciousness. +</P> + +<P> +When he awoke in the morning the sun was high in the heavens, and the +pilgrim had departed on his way. But the hut was filled with a +heavenly fragrance, and on his bed Isidore perceived the wild flowers +that he had plucked in the fields of Bethany—red anemones and blue +lupins and yellow marigolds, with many others more sweet and lovely +than the flowers that grew in the fields or Spain. +</P> + +<P> +"Then surely," he cried, "it was not merely a dream." +</P> + +<P> +And looking at his hand, he saw that the palm bore blue tracings such +as one sees on the arms of wanderers and seafaring men. These marks, +Isidore learned afterwards, were the Hebrew letters that spelt the name +"JERUSALEM." +</P> + +<P> +As long as he lived those letters recalled to his mind all the marvels +that had been shown him. And they did more than this, for whenever his +eyes fell on them he said, "Blessed be the promise of the Lord the +Redeemer of Israel, who hath us in His care for evermore!" +</P> + +<P> +Now these are the words of that promise: +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have +compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I +not forget thee. Behold, I have engraven thee upon the palms of my +hands.</I>" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Ancient Gods Pursuing +</H3> + +<P> +I will now tell of Hilary and his companions, who came over the snowy +passes of the Alps, and carried the lamp of faith into the north; and +this was in the days of the ancient gods. Many of their shrines had +Hilary overturned, and broken their images, and cut down their sacred +trees, and denied their wells of healing. Wherefore terrible phantoms +pursued him in his dreams, and in the darkness, and in the haunted ways +of the woods and mountains. At one time it was the brute-god Pan, who +sought to madden him with the terror of his piping in desolate places; +at another it was the sun-god Apollo, who threatened him with fiery +arrows in the parching heat of noon; or it was Pallas Athene, who +appeared to him in visions, and shook in his face the Gorgon's head, +which turns to stone all living creatures who look on it. But the holy +Bishop made the sign of the cross of the Lord, and the right arm of +their power was broken, and their malice could not harm him. +</P> + +<P> +The holy men traversed the mountains by that Roman road which climbed +up the icy rocks and among the snowy peaks of the Mountain of Jove, and +at sundown they came to that high temple of Jove which had crowned the +pass for many centuries. The statue of the great father-god of Rome +had been hurled down the ravine into the snow-drift, and his altar had +been flung into the little wintry mere which shivers in the pass, and +his last priest had died of old age a lifetime ago; and the temple was +now but a cold harbour for merchants and soldiers and wandering men. +</P> + +<P> +Here in the freezing air the apostles rested from their journey, but in +the dead of the night Hilary was awakened by a clamour of forlorn +voices, and opening his eyes he saw the mighty father-god of Olympus +looking down upon him with angry brows, and brandishing in his hand red +flashes of lightning. In no way daunted, the Bishop sprang to his +feet, and cried in a loud voice, "In the name of Him who was crucified, +depart to your torments!" And at the sound of that cry the colossal +figure of the god wavered and broke like a mountain cloud when it +crumbles in the wind, and glimmering shapes of goddesses and nymphs +flitted past, sighing and lamenting; and the Bishop saw no longer +anything but the sharp cold stars, and the white peaks and the ridges +of the mountains. +</P> + +<P> +When they had descended and reached the green valleys, they came at +length to a great lake, blue and beautiful to look upon, and here they +sojourned for a while. It was a fair and pleasant land, but the people +were rude and barbarous, and drove them away with stones when they +would enter their hamlets. So, as they needed food, Hilary bade his +companions gather berries and wild herbs, and he himself set snares for +birds, and wove a net to cast into the lake, and made himself a raft of +pine-trees, from which he might cast it the more easily. +</P> + +<P> +One night as he floated on this raft in the starlight, he heard the +voice of the Spirit of the Peak calling to the Spirit of the Mere. And +the Spirit of the Mere answered, "Speak, I am listening." Then the +Mountain Spirit cried, "Arise, then, and come to my aid; alone I cannot +chase away these men who are driving out all the ancient gods from +their shrines in the land." The Water Spirit answered, "Of what avail +is our strength against theirs? Here on the starry waters is one whose +nets I cannot break, and whose boat I cannot overturn. Without ceasing +he prays, and never are his eyes closed in slumber." Then Hilary arose +on his raft, and raising his hand to heaven cried against the Spirit of +the Peak and the Spirit of the Mere: "In the name of Him crucified, be +silent for evermore, and leave these hills and waters to the servants +of God." And these creatures of evil were stricken dumb, and they fled +in dismay, making a great moaning and sobbing, and the dolorous sound +was as that of the wind in the pines and the water on the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +Then Hilary and his companions fared away into the north, through the +Grey Waste, which is a wild and deserted country where in the olden +time vast armies had passed with fire and sword; and now the field had +turned into wildwood and morass, and the rich townsteads were barrows +of ruins and ashes overgrown with brambles, and had been given for a +lodging to the savage beasts. The name of this waste was more terrible +than the place, for the season was sweet and gracious, and of birds and +fish and herbs and wild honey there was no dearth. They were now no +longer harassed by the phantoms of the ancient gods, or by the evil +spirits of the unblessed earth. Thus for many long leagues was their +journey made easy for them. +</P> + +<P> +Now it chanced, when they had reached the further edge of this region, +that as they went one night belated along a green riding, which in the +old time had been a spacious paved causeway between rich cities, they +heard the music of a harp, more marvellously sweet and solacing than +any mortal minstrel may make; and sweet dream-voices sighed to them +"Follow, follow!" and they felt their feet drawn as by enchantment; and +as they yielded to the magical power, a soft shining filled the dusky +air, and they saw that the ground was covered with soft deep grass and +brilliant flowers, and the trees were of the colour of gold and silver. +So in strange gladness, and feeling neither hunger nor fatigue, they +went forward through the hours of the night till the dawn, wondering +what angelic ministry was thus beguiling them of hardship and pain. +But with the first gleam of the dawn the music ceased amid mocking +laughter, the vision of lovely woodland vanished away, and in the grey +light they found themselves on the quaking green edges of a deep and +dangerous marsh. Hilary, when he saw this, groaned in spirit and said: +"O dear sons, we have deserved this befooling and misguidance, for have +we not forgotten the behest of our Master, 'Watch and pray lest ye +enter into temptation'?" +</P> + +<P> +Now when after much toilsomeness they had won clear of that foul tract +of morass and quagmire, they came upon vast herds of swine grubbing +beneath the oaks, and with them savage-looking swineherds scantily clad +in skins. Still further north they caught sight of the squalid hovels +and wood piles of charcoal burners; and still they pursued their way +till they cleared the dense forest and beheld before them a long range +of hills blue in the distant air. Towards sundown they came on a stony +moorland, rough with heather and bracken and tufts of bent; and when +there was but one long band of red light parting the distant land from +the low sky, they descried a range of thick posts standing high and +black against the red in the heavens. As they drew near, these, they +discovered, were the huge granite pillars of a great ring of stone and +of an avenue which led up to it; and in the midst of the ring was a +mighty flat stone borne up on three stout pillars, so that it looked +like a wondrous stone house of some strong folk of the beginning of +days. +</P> + +<P> +"This, too, companions," said Hilary, "is a temple of false gods. Very +ancient gods of a world gone by are these, and it may be they have been +long dead like their worshippers, and their names are no more spoken in +the world. Further we may not go this night; but on these stones we +shall put the sign of the blessed tree of our redemption, and in its +shelter shall we sleep." +</P> + +<P> +As they slept that night in the lee of the stones Hilary saw in a dream +the place wherein they lay; and the great stones, he was aware, were +not true stones of the rock, but petrified trees, and in his spirit he +knew that these trees of stone were growths of that Forbidden Tree with +the fruit of which the Serpent tempted our first mother in Paradise. +On the morrow when they rose, he strove to overthrow the huge pillars, +but to this labour their strength was not equal. +</P> + +<P> +This same day was the day of St. John, the longest in all the year, and +they travelled far, till at last in the long afternoon they arrived in +sight of a cluster of little homesteads, clay huts thatched with +bracken and fenced about with bushes of poison-thorn, and of tilled +crofts sloping down the hillside to a clear river wending through the +valley. +</P> + +<P> +As Hilary and his companions approached they saw that it was a day of +rejoicing and merry-making among the people, for they were all abroad, +feasting and drinking from great mead horns in the open air, and +shouting barbarous songs to the noise of rude instruments. When it +grew to such duskiness as there may be in a midsummer night countless +fires were lit, near at hand and far away, on the hills around; and on +the ridges above the river children ran about with blazing brands of +pine-wood, and young men and maidens gathered at the flaming beacon. +Wheels, too, wrapped round tire and spoke with straw and flax smeared +with pine-tree gum, were set alight and sent rolling down the hill to +the river, amid wild cries and clapping of hands. Some of the wheels +went awry and were stayed among the boulders; on some the flames died +out; but there were those which reached the river and plunged into the +water and were extinguished; and the owners of these last deemed +themselves fortunate in their omens, for these fiery wheels were images +of the sun in heaven, and their course to the river was the forecasting +of his prosperous journey through the year to come. +</P> + +<P> +Thus these outland people held their festival, and Hilary marvelled to +see the many fires, for he had not known that the land held so many +folk. But now when it was time for the wayfarers to cast about in +their minds how and where they should pass the night, there came to +them a stranger, a grave and seemly man clad in the manner of the +Romans, and he bowed low to them, and said: "O saintly men, the Lady +Pelagia hath heard of your coming into this land, and she knows that +you have come to teach men the new faith, for she is a great lady, +mistress of vast demesnes, and many messengers bring her tidings of all +that happens. She bids me greet you humbly and prevail on you to come +and abide this night in her house, which is but a little way from here." +</P> + +<P> +"Is your lady of Rome?" asked Hilary. +</P> + +<P> +"From Rome she came hither," said the messenger, "but aforetime she was +of Greece, and she hath great friendship for all wise and holy men." +</P> + +<P> +The wayfarers were surprised to hear of this lady, but they were +rejoiced that, after such long wandering, there was some one to welcome +them where least they had expected word of welcome, and they followed +the messenger. +</P> + +<P> +Horn lantern in hand he led them through the warm June darkness, and on +the way answered many questions as to the folk of these parts, and +their strange worship of sun and moon and wandering light of heaven; +"but in a brief while," he said, "all these heathen matters will be put +by, when you have taught them the new faith." +</P> + +<P> +Up a gloomily wooded rise he guided them, till they passed into the +radiance of a house lit with many lamps and cressets, and the house, +they saw, was of fair marble such as are the houses of the patricians +of Rome; and many beautiful slaves, lightly clad and garlanded with +roses, brought them water in silver bowls and white linen wherewith +they might cleanse themselves from the dust of their travel. +</P> + +<P> +In a little the Lady Pelagia received them and bade them welcome, and +prayed them to make her poor house their dwelling-place while they +sojourned in that waste of heathendom. Then she led them to a repast +which had been made ready for them. +</P> + +<P> +Of all the gracious and lovely women in the round of the kingdoms of +the earth none is, or hath been, or will be, more marvellous in beauty +or in sweetness of approach than this lady; and she made Hilary sit +beside her, and questioned him of the Saints in the Queen City of the +world, and of his labours and his long wanderings, and the perils +through which he and his companions had come. All the while she spoke +her starry eyes shed soft light on his face, and she leaned towards him +her lovely head and fragrant bosom, drinking in his words with a look +of longing. The companions whispered among themselves that assuredly +this was rather an Angel of Paradise than a mortal creature of the dust +of the earth, which to-day is as a flower in its desirableness and +to-morrow is blown about all the ways of men's feet. Even the good +Bishop felt his heart moved towards her with a strange tenderness, so +sweet was the thought of her youth and her beauty and her goodness and +humility. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting in this fashion at table and conversing, and the talk now +veering to this and now to that, the Lady Pelagia said: "This longest +of the days has been to me the most happy, holy fathers, for it has +brought you to the roof of a sinful woman, and you have not disdained +the service she has offered you in all lowliness of heart. A long and, +it may be, a dangerous labour lies before you, for the folk of this +land are fierce and quick to violence; but here you may ever refresh +yourselves from toil and take your rest, free from danger. No loving +offices or lowly observance, no, nor ought you desire is there that you +may not have for the asking—or without the asking, if it be given me +to know your wish unspoken." +</P> + +<P> +Hilary and the brethren bowed low at these gracious words, and thought +within themselves: Of a truth this may be a woman, but she is no less +an Angel for our strength and solacement. +</P> + +<P> +"In the days to come," said the lady, "there will be many things to ask +and learn from you, but now ere this summer night draws to end let me +have knowledge of divine things from thee, most holy father, for thou +art wise and canst answer all my questionings." +</P> + +<P> +And Hilary smiled gravely, not ill pleased at her words of praise, and +said: "Ask, daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"First tell me," she said, "which of all the small things God has made +in the world is the most excellent?" +</P> + +<P> +Hilary wondered and mused, but could find no answer; and when he would +have said so, the voice which came from his lips spoke other words than +those he intended to speak, so that instead of saying "This is a +question I cannot answer," his voice said: "Of all small things made by +God, most excellent is the face of man and woman; for among all the +faces of the children of Adam not any one hath ever been wholly like +any other; and there in smallest space God has placed all the senses of +the body; and it is in the face that we see, as in a glass, darkly, all +that can be seen of the invisible soul within." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-039"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-039.jpg" ALT="_Hilary wondered and mused_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="383" HEIGHT="556"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 383px"> +<I>Hilary wondered and mused</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The companions listened marvelling, but Hilary marvelled no less than +they. +</P> + +<P> +"It is well answered," said the lady, "and yet it seemed to me there +was one thing more excellent. But let me ask again: What earth is +nearest to heaven?" +</P> + +<P> +Again Hilary mused and was silent. Then, once more, the voice which +was his voice and yet spoke words which he did not think to speak, gave +the answer: "The body of Him who died on the tree to save us, for He +was of our flesh, and our flesh is earth of the earth." +</P> + +<P> +"That too is well answered," said the lady, who had grown pale and +gazed on the Bishop with great gloomy eyes; "and yet I had thought of +another answer. Once more let me question you: What is the distance +between heaven and earth?" +</P> + +<P> +Then for the third time was Hilary unable to reply, but the voice +answered for him, in stern and menaceful tones: "Who can tell us that +more certainly than Lucifer who fell from heaven?" +</P> + +<P> +With a bitter cry the Lady Pelagia rose from her seat, and raised her +beautiful white arms above her head; but the voice continued: "Breathe +on her, Hilary—breathe the breath of the name of Christ!" +</P> + +<P> +And the Bishop, rising, breathed on the white lovely face the breath of +the holy name; and in an instant the starry eyes were darkened, and the +spirit and flower of life perished in her sweet body; and the +companions saw no longer the Lady Pelagia, but in her stead a statue of +white marble. At a glance Hilary knew it for a statue of the goddess +whom men in Rome called Venus and in Greece Aphrodite, and with a +shudder he remembered that another of her names was Pelagia, the Lady +of the Sea. But, swifter even than that thought, it seemed to them as +though the statue were smitten by an invisible hand, for it reeled and +fell, shattered to fragments; and the lights were extinguished, and the +air of the summer night blew upon their faces, and in the east, whence +cometh our hope, there was a glimmer of dawn. +</P> + +<P> +Praying fervently, and bewailing the brief joy they had taken in the +beauty of that dreadful goddess, they waited for light to guide them +from that evil place. +</P> + +<P> +When the day broadened they perceived that they were in the midst of +the ruins of an ancient Roman city, overgrown with bush and tree. +Around them lay, amid beds of nettles and great dock leaves, and darnel +and tangles of briars, and tall foxgloves and deadly nightshade, the +broken pillars of a marble temple. This had been the fair house, lit +with lamps, wherein they had sat at feast. Close beside them were +scattered the white fragments of the image of the beautiful Temptress. +</P> + +<P> +As they turned to depart three grey wolves snarled at them from the +ruins, but an unseen hand held these in leash, and Hilary and his +companions went on their way unharmed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Dream of the White Lark +</H3> + +<P> +This was a thing that happened long and long ago, in the glimmering +morning of the Christian time in Erinn. And it may have happened to +the holy Maedog of Ferns, or to Enan the Angelic, or it may have been +Molasius of Devenish—I cannot say. But over the windy sea in his +small curragh of bull's hide the Saint sailed far away to the southern +land; and for many a month he travelled afoot through the dark forests, +and the sunny corn-lands, and over the snowy mountain horns, and along +the low shores between the olive-grey hills and the blue sea, till at +last he came in sight of a great and beautiful city glittering on the +slopes and ridges of seven hills. +</P> + +<P> +"What golden city may this be?" he asked of the dark-eyed market folk +whom he met on the long straight road which led across the open country. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the city of Rome," they answered him, wondering at his +ignorance. But the Saint, when he heard those words, fell on his knees +and kissed the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Hail to thee, most holy city!" he cried; "hail, thou queen of the +world, red with the roses of the martyrs and white with the lilies of +the virgins; hail, blessed goal of my long wandering!" +</P> + +<P> +And as he entered the city his eyes were bright with joy, and his heart +seemed to lift his weary feet on wings of gladness. +</P> + +<P> +There he sojourned through the autumn and the winter, visiting all the +great churches and the burial-places of the early Christians in the +Catacombs, and communing with the good and wise men in many houses of +religion. Once he conversed with the great Pope whose name was +Gregory, and told him of his brethren in the beloved isle in the +western waters. +</P> + +<P> +When once more the leaf of the fig-tree opened its five fingers, and +the silvery bud of the vine began to unfurl, the Saint prepared to +return home. And once more he went to the mighty Pope, to take his +leave and to ask a blessing for himself and his brethren, and to beg +that he might bear away with him to the brotherhood some precious relic +of those who had shed their blood for the Cross. +</P> + +<P> +As he made that request in the green shadowy garden on the Hill +Caelian, the Pope smiled, and, taking a clod of common earth from the +soil, gave it to the Saint, saying, "Then take this with thee," and +when the Saint expressed his surprise at so strange a relic, the +Servant of the Servants of God took back the earth and crushed it in +his hand, and with amazement the Saint saw that blood began to trickle +from it between the fingers of the Pope. +</P> + +<P> +Marvelling greatly, the Saint kissed the holy pontiff's hand, and bade +him farewell; and going to and fro among those he knew, he collected +money, and, hiring a ship, he filled it with the earth of Rome, and +sailed westward through the Midland Sea, and bent his course towards +the steadfast star in the north, and so at last reached the beloved +green island of his home. +</P> + +<P> +In the little graveyard about the fair church of his brotherhood he +spread the earth which had drunk the blood of the martyrs, so that the +bodies of those who died in the Lord might await His coming in a +blessed peace. +</P> + +<P> +Now it happened that but a few days after his return the friend of his +boyhood, a holy brother who had long shared with him the companionship +of the cloister, migrated from this light, and when the last requiem +had been sung and the sacred earth had covered in the dead, the Saint +wept bitterly for the sake of the lost love and the unforgotten years. +</P> + +<P> +And at night he fell asleep, still weeping for sorrow. And in his +sleep he saw, as in a dream, the grey stone church with its round tower +and the graveyard sheltered by the woody hills; but behold! in the +graveyard tall trees sprang in lofty spires from the earth of Rome, and +reached into the highest heavens; and these trees were like trees of +green and golden and ruddy fire, for they were red with the blossoms of +life, and every green leaf quivered with bliss, like a green flame; and +among the trees, on a grassy sod at their feet, sat a white lark, +singing clear and loud, and he knew that the lark was the soul of the +friend of his boyhood. +</P> + +<P> +As he listened to its song, he understood its unearthly music; and +these were the words of its singing: "Do not weep any more for me; it +is pity for thy sorrow which keeps me here on the grass. If thou wert +not so unhappy I should fly." +</P> + +<P> +And when the Saint awoke his grief had fallen from him, and he wept no +more for the dead man whom he loved. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Hermit of the Pillar +</H3> + +<P> +On one of the hills near the city of Ancyra Basil the hermit stood day +and night on a pillar of stone forty feet high, praying and weeping for +his own sins and for the sins of the world. +</P> + +<P> +A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky, he stood there for +a sign and a warning to all men that our earthly life is short, whether +for wickedness or repentance; that the gladness and the splendour of +the world are but a fleeting pageant; that in but a little while the +nations should tremble before the coming of the Lord in His power and +majesty. Little heed did the rich and dissolute people of that city +give to his cry of doom; and of the vast crowds who came about the foot +of his pillar, the greater number thought but to gaze on the wonder of +a day, though some few did pitch their tents hard by, and spent the +time of their sojourn in prayer and the lamentation of hearts humbled +and contrite. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-051"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-051.jpg" ALT="_A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="380" HEIGHT="554"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 380px"> +<I>A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Now, in the third year of his testimony, as Basil was rapt in devotion, +with hands and face uplifted to the great silent stars, an Angel, +clothed in silver and the blue-green of the night, stood in front of +him in the air, and said: "Descend from thy pillar, and get thee away +far westward; and there thou shalt learn what is for thy good." +</P> + +<P> +Without delay or doubt Basil descended, and stole away alone in the +hush before the new day, and took the winding ways of the hills, and +thereafter went down into the low country of the plain to seaward. +</P> + +<P> +After long journeying among places and people unknown, he crossed the +running seas which part the eastern world from the world of the west, +and reached the City of the Golden Horn, Byzantium; and there for four +months he lived on a pillar overlooking the city and the narrow seas, +and cried his cry of doom and torment. At the end of the fourth month +the Angel once more came to him and bade him descend and go further. +</P> + +<P> +So with patience and constancy of soul he departed between night and +light, and pursued his way for many months till he had got to the +ancient city of Treves. There, among the ruins of a temple of the +heathen goddess Diana, he found a vast pillar of marble still erect, +and the top of this he thought to make his home and holy watch-tower. +Wherefore he sought out the Bishop of the city and asked his leave and +blessing, and the Bishop, marvelling greatly at his zeal and austerity, +gave his consent. +</P> + +<P> +The people of Treves were amazed at what they considered his madness; +but they gave him no hindrance, nor did they molest him in any way. +Indeed, in no long time the fame of his penance was noised abroad, and +multitudes came, as they had come at Ancyra, to see with their own eyes +what there was of truth in the strange story they had heard. +Afterwards, too, many came out of sorrow for sin and an ardent desire +of holiness; and others brought their sick and maimed and afflicted, in +the hope that the Hermit might be able to cure their ailments, or give +them assuagement of their sufferings. Many of these, in truth, Basil +sent away cleansed and made whole by the virtue of his touch or of the +blessing he bestowed upon them. +</P> + +<P> +Now, though there were many pillar-hermits in the far eastern land, +this was the first that had ever been seen in the west, and after him +there were but few others. +</P> + +<P> +A strange and well-nigh incredible thing it seemed, to look upon this +man on the height of his pillar, preaching and praying constantly, and +enduring night and day the inclemency of the seasons and the weariness +and discomfort of his narrow standing place. For the pillar, massive +as it was, was so narrow where the marble curved over in big acanthus +leaves at the four corners that he had not room to lie down at length +to sleep; and indeed he slept but little, considering slumber a waste +of the time of prayer, and the dreams of sleep so many temptations to +beguile the soul into false and fugitive pleasures. No shelter was +there from the wind, but he was bare as a stone in the field to the +driving rain and the blaze of the sun at noon; and in winter the frost +was bitter to flesh and blood, and the snow fell like flakes or white +fire. His only clothing was a coat of sheepskin; about his neck hung a +heavy chain of iron, in token that he was a thrall and bondsman of the +Lord Christ, and each Friday he wore an iron crown of thorns, in +painful memory of Christ's passion and His sorrowful death upon the +tree. Once a day he ate a little rye bread, and once he drank a little +water. +</P> + +<P> +No man could say whether he was young or aged; and the mother who had +borne him a little babe at her bosom, and had watched him grow to +boyhood, could not have recognised him, for he had been burnt black by +the sun and the frost, and the weather had bleached his hair and beard +till they looked like lichens on an ancient forest-tree, and the crown +of thorns had scarred his brow, and the links of the chain had galled +his neck and shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +For three summers and three winters he endured this stricken life with +cheerful fortitude, counting his sufferings as great gain if through +them he might secure the crown of celestial glory which God has woven +for His elect. Remembering all his prayers and supplications, and the +long martyrdom of his body, it was hard for him, at times, to resist +the assurance that he must have won a golden seat among the blessed. +</P> + +<P> +"For who, O Lord Christ!" he cried, with trembling hands outstretched, +and dim eyes weeping, "who hath taken up Thy cross as I have done, and +the anguish of the thorns and the nails, and the parched sorrow of Thy +thirst, and the wounding of Thy blessed body, and borne them for years +twenty and three, and shown them as I have shown them to the sun and +stars and the four winds, high up between heaven and earth, that men +might be drawn to Thee, and carried them across the world from the +outmost East to the outmost West? Surely, Lord God! Thou hast written +my name in Thy Book of Life, and hast set for me a happy place in the +heavens. Surely, all I have and am I have given Thee; and all that a +worm of the earth may do have I done! If in anything I have failed, +show me, Lord, I beseech Thee, wherein I have come short. If any man +there be more worthy in Thine eyes, let me, too, set eyes upon him, +that I may learn of him how I may the better please Thee. Teach me, +Lord, that which I know not, for Thou alone knowest and art wise!" +</P> + +<P> +As Basil was praying thus in the hour before dawn, once more the Angel, +clothed in silver and blue-green, as though it had been a semblance of +the starry night, came to him, and said: "Give me thy hand;" and Basil +touched the hand celestial, and the Angel drew him from his pillar, and +placed him on the ground, and said: "This is that land of the west in +which thou art to learn what is for thy good. Take for staff this +piece of tree, and follow this road till thou reachest the third +milestone; and there, in the early light, thou shalt meet him who can +instruct thee. For a sign, thou shalt know the man by the little maid +of seven years who helpeth him to drive the geese. But the man, though +young, may teach one who is older than he, and he is one who is greatly +pleasing in God's eyes." +</P> + +<P> +The clear light was glittering on the dewy grass and the wet bushes +when Basil reached the third milestone. He heard the distant sound as +of a shepherd piping, and he saw that the road in front of him was +crowded for near upon a quarter of a mile with a great gathering of +geese—fully two thousand they numbered—feeding in the grass and +rushes, and cackling, and hustling each other aside, and clacking their +big orange-coloured bills, as they waddled slowly onward towards the +city. +</P> + +<P> +Among them walked a nut-brown little maiden of seven, clad in a green +woollen tunic, with bright flaxen hair and innocent blue eyes, and bare +brown legs, and feet shod in shoes of hide. In her hand she carried a +long hazel wand, with which she kept in rule the large grey and white +geese. +</P> + +<P> +As the flock came up to the Hermit, she gazed at him with her sweet +wondering eyes, for never had she seen so strange and awful a man as +this, with his sheepskin dress and iron chain and crown of thorns, and +skin burnt black, and bleached hair and dark brows stained with blood. +For a moment she stood still in awe and fear, but the Hermit raised his +hand, and blessed her, and smiled upon her; and even in that worn and +disfigured face the light in the Hermit's eyes as he smiled was tender +and beautiful; and the child ceased to fear, and passed slowly along, +still gazing at him and smiling in return. +</P> + +<P> +In the rear of the great multitude of geese came a churl, tall and +young, and comely enough for all his embrowning in the sun and wind, +and his unkempt hair and rude dress. It was he who made the music, +playing on pan's-pipes to lighten the way, and quickening with his +staff the loiterers of his flock. +</P> + +<P> +When he perceived the Hermit he stayed his playing, for he bethought +him, Is not this the saintly man of whose strange penance and miracles +of healing the folk talk in rustic huts and hamlets far scattered? But +when they drew nigh to each other, the Hermit bowed low to the +Gooseherd, and addressed him: "Give me leave to speak a little with +thee, good brother; for an Angel of heaven hath told me of thee, and +fain would I converse with thee. Twenty years and three have I served +the King of Glory in supplication and fasting and tribulation of +spirit, and yet I lack that which thou canst teach me. Now tell me, I +beseech thee, what works, what austerities, what prayers have made thee +so acceptable to God." +</P> + +<P> +A dark flush rose on the Goose-herd's cheeks as he listened, but when +he answered it was in a grave and quiet voice: "It ill becomes an aged +man to mock and jeer at the young, nor is it more seemly that the holy +should gibe at the poor." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear son in Christ," said the Hermit, "I do not gibe or mock at thee. +By the truth of the blessed tree, I was told of thee by an Angel in the +very night which is now over and gone, and was bidden to question thee. +Wherefore be not wrathful, but answer me truly, I beg of thy charity." +</P> + +<P> +The Goose-herd shook his head. "This is a matter beyond me," he +replied. "All my work, since thou askest of my work, hath been the +tending and rearing of geese and driving them to market. From the good +marsh lands at the foot of the hills out west I drive them, and the +distance is not small, for, sleeping and resting by boulder and tree, +for five days are we on the way. Slow of foot goeth your goose when he +goeth not by water, and it profits neither master nor herd to stint +them of their green food. And all my prayer hath been that I might get +them safe to market, none missing or fallen dead by the way, and that I +might sell them speedily and at good price, and so back to the fens +again. What more is there to say?" +</P> + +<P> +"In thy humility thou hidest something from me," said the Hermit, and +he fixed his eyes thoughtfully on the young man's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, I have told thee all that is worth the telling." +</P> + +<P> +"Then hast thou always lived this life?" the Hermit asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Ever since I was a small lad—such a one as the little maid in front, +and she will be in her seventh year, or it may be a little older. +Before me was my father goose-herd; and he taught me the windings of +the journey to the city, and the best resting-places, and the ways of +geese, and the meaning of their cries, and what pleaseth them and +serveth flesh and feather, and how they should be driven. And now, in +turn, I teach the child, for there be goose-girls as well as men." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she then thy young sister, or may it be that she is thy daughter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither young sister nor daughter is she," replied the Herd, "and yet +in truth she is both sister and daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"Wilt thou tell me how that may be?" asked the Hermit. +</P> + +<P> +"It is shortly told," said the Herd. "Robbers broke into their poor +and lonely house by the roadside and slew father and mother and left +them dead, but the babe at the breast they had not slain, and this was +she." +</P> + +<P> +"Didst thou find her?" asked the Hermit. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, on a happy day I found her; a feeble little thing bleating like a +lambkin forlorn beside its dead dam." +</P> + +<P> +"And thy wife, belike, or thy mother, reared her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nay," said the Herd, "for my mother was dead, and no wife have I. I +reared her myself—my little white gooseling; and she throve and waxed +strong of heart and limb, and merry and brown of favour, as thou hast +seen." +</P> + +<P> +"Thou must have been thyself scantly a man in those days," said the +Hermit. +</P> + +<P> +"Younger than to-day," replied the Herd; "but I was ever big of limb +and plentiful of my inches." +</P> + +<P> +"And hath she not been often since a burthen to thee, and a weariness +in the years?" +</P> + +<P> +"She hath been a care in the cold winter, and a sorrow in her sickness +with her teeth—for no man, I wot, can help a small child when the +teeth come through the gum, and she can but cry ah! ah! and hath no +words to tell what she aileth." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didst thou do all this?" asked the Hermit. "What hath been thy +reward? Or for what reward dost thou look?" +</P> + +<P> +The Goose-herd looked at him blankly for a moment; then his face +brightened. "Surely," he said, "to see her as she goes on her way, a +bright, brown little living thing, with her clear hair and glad eyes, +is a goodly reward. And a goodly reward is it to think of her growth, +and to mind me of the days when she could not walk and I bore her +whithersoever I went; and of the days when she could but take faltering +steps and was soon fain to climb into my arms and sit upon my neck; and +of the days when we first fared together with the geese to market and I +cut her her first hazel stick; and in truth of all the days that she +hath been with me since I found her." +</P> + +<P> +As the Goose-herd spoke the tears rose in the Hermit's eyes and rolled +slowly down his cheeks; and when the young man ceased, he said: "O son, +now I know why thou art so pleasing in the eyes of God. Early hast +thou learned the love which gives all and asks nothing, which suffereth +long and is ever kind, and this I have not learned. A small thing and +too common it seemed to me, but now I see that it is holier than +austerities, and availeth more than fasting, and is the prayer of +prayers. Late have I sought thee, thou ancient truth, late have I +found thee, thou ancient beauty; yet even in the gloaming of my days +may there still be light enough to win my way home. Farewell, good +brother; and be God tender and pitiful to thee as thou hast been tender +and pitiful to the little child." +</P> + +<P> +"Farewell, holy man!" replied the Herd, regarding him with a perplexed +look, for the life and austerities of the Hermit were a mystery he +could not understand. +</P> + +<P> +Then going on his way, he laid the pan's-pipes to his lips and whistled +a pleasant music as he strode after his geese. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Kenach's Little Woman +</H3> + +<P> +As the holy season of Lent drew nigh, the Abbot Kenach felt a longing +such as a bird of passage feels in the south when the first little +silvery buds on the willow begin here to break their ruddy sheaths, and +the bird thinks to-morrow it will be time to fly over-seas to the land +where it builds its nest in pleasant croft or under the shelter of +homely eaves. And Kenach said, "Levabo oculos—I will lift up mine +eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help;" for every year it was +his custom to leave his abbey and fare through the woods to the +hermitage on the mountain-side, so that he might spend the forty days +of fasting and prayer in the heart of solitude. +</P> + +<P> +Now on the day which is called the Wednesday or Ashes he set out, but +first he heard the mass of remembrance and led his monks to the altar +steps, and knelt there in great humility to let the priest sign his +forehead with a cross of ashes. And on the forehead of each of the +monks the ashes were smeared in the form of a cross, and each time the +priest made the sign he repeated the words, "Remember, man, that thou +art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." +</P> + +<P> +So with the ashes still on his brow and with the remembrance of the end +of earthly days in his soul, he bent his steps towards the hermitage; +and as he was now an aged man and nowise strong, Diarmait, one of the +younger brethren, accompanied him in case any mischance should befall. +</P> + +<P> +They passed through the cold forest, where green there was none, unless +it were the patches of moss and the lichens on the rugged tree-trunks +and tufts of last year's grass, but here and there the white blossoms +of the snowdrops peered out. The dead grey leaves and dry twigs +crackled and snapped under their feet with such a noise as a wood fire +makes when it is newly lighted; and that was all the warmth they had on +their wayfaring. +</P> + +<P> +The short February day was closing in as they climbed among the +boulders and withered bracken on the mountainside, and at last reached +the entrance of a cavern hollowed in the rock and fringed with ivy. +This was the hermitage. The Abbot hung his bell on a thick ivy-bough +in the mouth of the cave; and they knelt and recited vespers and +compline; and thrice the Abbot struck the bell to scare away the evil +spirits of the night; and they entered and lay down to rest. +</P> + +<P> +Hard was the way of their sleeping; for they lay not on wool or on +down, neither on heather or bracken, nor yet on dry leaves, but their +sides came against the cold stone, and under the head of each there was +a stone for pillow. But being weary with the long journey they slept +sound, and felt nothing of the icy mouth of the wind blowing down the +mountain-side. +</P> + +<P> +Within an hour of daybreak, when the moon was setting, they were +awakened by the wonderful singing of a bird, and they rose for matins +and strove not to listen, but so strangely sweet was the sound in the +keen moonlight morning that they could not forbear. The moon set, and +still in the dark sang the bird, and the grey light came, and the bird +ceased; and when it was white day they saw that all the ground and +every stalk of bracken was hoary with frost, and every ivy-leaf was +crusted white round the edge, but within the edge it was all glossy +green. +</P> + +<P> +"What bird is this that sings so sweet before day in the bitter cold?" +said the Abbot. "Surely no bird at all, but an Angel from heaven +waking us from the death of sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"It is the blackbird, Domine Abbas," said the young monk; "often they +sing thus in February, however cold it may be." +</P> + +<P> +"O soul, O Diarmait, is it not wonderful that the senseless small +creatures should praise God so sweetly in the dark, and in the light +before the dark, while we are fain to lie warm and forget His praise?" +And afterwards he said, "Gladly could I have listened to that singing, +even till to-morrow was a day; and yet it was but the singing of a +little earth wrapped in a handful of feathers. O soul, tell me what it +must be to listen to the singing of an Angel, a portion of heaven +wrapped in the glory of God's love!" +</P> + +<P> +Of the forty days thirty went by, and oftentimes now, when no wind +blew, it was bright and delightsome among the rocks, for the sun was +gaining strength, and the days were growing longer, and the brown trees +were being speckled with numberless tiny buds of white and pale green, +and wild flowers were springing between the boulders and through the +mountain turf. +</P> + +<P> +Hard by the cave there was a low wall of rock covered with ivy, and as +Diarmait chanced to walk near it, a brown bird darted out from among +the leaves. The young monk looked at the place from which it had +flown, and behold! among the leaves and the hairy sinews of the ivy +there was a nest lined with grass, and in the nest there were three +eggs—pale-green with reddish spots. And Diarmait knew the bird and +knew the eggs, and he told the Abbot, who came noiselessly, and looked +with a great love at the open house and the three eggs of the mother +blackbird. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us not walk too near, my son," he said, "lest we scare the mother +from her brood, and so silence beforehand some of the music of the cold +hours before the day." And he lifted his hand and blessed the nest and +the bird, saying, "And He shall bless thy bread and thy water." After +that it was very seldom they went near the ivy. +</P> + +<P> +Now after days of clear and benign weather a shrill wind broke out from +beneath the North Star, and brought with it snow and sleet and piercing +cold. And the woods howled for distress of the storm, and the grey +stones of the mountain chattered with discomfort. Harsh cold and +sleeplessness were their lot in the cave, and as he shivered, the Abbot +bethought him of the blackbird in her nest, and of the wet flakes +driving in between the leaves of the ivy and stinging her brown wings +and patient bosom. And lifting his head from his pillow of stone he +prayed the Lord of the elements to have the bird in His gentle care, +saying, "How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O God! therefore the +children of men put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings." +</P> + +<P> +Then after a little while he said, "Look out into the night, O son, and +tell me if yet the storm be abated." +</P> + +<P> +And Diarmait, shuddering, went to the mouth of the cavern, and stood +there gazing and calling in a low voice, "Domine Abbas! My Lord Abbot! +My Lord Abbot!" +</P> + +<P> +Kenach rose quickly and went to him, and as they looked out the sleet +beat on their faces, but in the midst of the storm there was a space of +light, as though it were moonshine, and the light streamed from an +Angel, who stood near the wall of rock with outspread wings, and +sheltered the blackbird's nest from the wintry blast. +</P> + +<P> +And the monks gazed at the shining loveliness of the Angel, till the +wind fell and the snow ceased and the light faded away and the sharp +stars came out and the night was still. +</P> + +<P> +Now at sundown of the day that followed, when the Abbot was in the +cave, the young monk, standing among the rocks, saw approaching a woman +who carried a child in her arms; and crossing himself he cried aloud to +her, "Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and go down." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-067"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-067.jpg" ALT="_Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and go down_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="379" HEIGHT="544"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 379px"> +<I>Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and go down</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Nay," replied the woman, "for we seek shelter for the night, and food +and the solace of fire for the little one." +</P> + +<P> +"Go down, go down," cried Diarmait; "no woman may come to this +hermitage." +</P> + +<P> +"How canst thou say that, O monk?" said the woman. "Was the Lord +Christ any worse than thou? Christ came to redeem woman no less than +to redeem man. Not less did He suffer for the sake of woman than for +the sake of man. Women gave service and tendance to Him and His +Apostles. A woman it was who bore Him, else had men been left forlorn. +It was a man who betrayed Him with a kiss; a woman it was who washed +His feet with tears. It was a man who smote Him with a reed, but a +woman who broke the alabaster box of precious ointment. It was a man +who thrice denied Him; a woman stood by His cross. It was a woman to +whom He first spoke on Easter morn, but a man thrust his hand into His +side and put his finger in the prints of the nails before he would +believe. And not less than men do women enter the heavenly kingdom. +Why then shouldst thou drive my little child and me from thy hermitage?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Kenach, who had heard all that was said, came forth from the cave, +and blessed the woman. "Well hast thou spoken, O daughter; come, and +bring the small child with thee." And, turning to the young monk, he +said, "O soul, O son, O Diarmait, did not God send His Angel out of +high heaven to shelter the mother bird? And was not that, too, a +little woman in feathers? But now hasten, and gather wood and leaves, +and strike fire from the flint, and make a hearth before the cave, that +the woman may rest and the boy have the comfort of the bright flame." +</P> + +<P> +This was soon done, and by the fire sat the woman eating a little +barley bread; but the child, who had no will to eat came round to the +old man, and held out two soft hands to him. And the Abbot caught him +up from the ground to his breast, and kissed his golden head, saying, +"God bless thee sweet little son, and give thee a good life and a +happy, and strength of thy small body, and, if it be His holy will, +length of glad days; and ever mayest thou be a gladness and deep joy to +thy mother." +</P> + +<P> +Then, seeing that the woman was strangely clad in an outland garb of +red and blue, and that she was tall, with a golden-hued skin and olive +eyes, arched eyebrows very black, aquiline nose, and a rosy mouth, he +said, "Surely, O daughter, thou art not of this land of Erinn in the +sea, but art come out of the great world beyond?" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, then, we have travelled far," replied the woman; "as thou +sayest, out of the great world beyond. And now the twilight deepens +upon us." +</P> + +<P> +"Thou shalt sleep safe in the cave, O daughter, but we will rest here +by the embers. My cloak of goats' hair shalt thou have, and such dry +bracken and soft bushes as may be found." +</P> + +<P> +"There is no need," said the woman, "mere shelter is enough;" and she +added in a low voice, "Often has my little son had no bed wherein he +might lie." +</P> + +<P> +Then she stretched out her arms to the boy, and once more the little +one kissed the Abbot, and as he passed by Diarmait he put the palms of +his hands against the face of the young monk, and said laughingly, "I +do not think thou hadst any ill-will to us, though thou wert rough and +didst threaten to drive us away into the woods." +</P> + +<P> +And the woman lifted the boy on her arm, and rose and went towards the +cavern; and when she was in the shadow of the rocks she turned towards +the monks beside the fire, and said, "My son bids me thank you." +</P> + +<P> +They looked up, and what was their astonishment to see a heavenly glory +shining about the woman and her child in the gloom of the cave. And in +his left hand the child carried a little golden image of the world, and +round his head was a starry radiance, and his right hand was raised in +blessing. +</P> + +<P> +For such a while as it takes the shadow of a cloud to run across a +rippling field of corn, for so long the vision remained; and then it +melted into the darkness, even as a rainbow melts away into the rain. +</P> + +<P> +On his face fell the Abbot, weeping for joy beyond words; but Diarmait +was seized with fear and trembling till he remembered the way in which +the child had pressed warm palms against his face and forgiven him. +</P> + +<P> +The story of these things was whispered abroad, and ever since, in that +part of Erinn in the sea, the mother blackbird is called Kenach's +Little Woman. +</P> + +<P> +And as for the stone on which the fire was lighted in front of the +cave, rain rises quickly from it in mist and leaves it dry, and snow +may not lie upon it, and even in the dead of winter it is warm to +touch. And to this day it is called the Stone of Holy Companionship. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Golden Apples and Roses Red +</H3> + +<P> +In the cruel days of old, when Diocletian was the Master of the World, +and the believers in the Cross were maimed, and tortured with fire, and +torn with iron hooks, and cast to the lions, and beheaded with the +sword, Dorothea, a beautiful maiden of Caesarea, was brought before +Sapricius, the Governor of Cappadocia, and commanded to forsake the +Lord Christ and offer incense to the images of the false gods. +</P> + +<P> +Though she was so young and so fair and tender, she stood unmoved by +threats and entreaties, and when, with little pity on her youth and +loveliness, Sapricius menaced her with the torment of the iron bed over +a slow fire, she replied: "Do with me as you will. No pain shall I +fear, so firm is my trust in Him for whom I am ready to die." +</P> + +<P> +"Who, then, is this that has won thy love?" asked the Governor. +</P> + +<P> +"It is Christ Jesus, the Son of God. Slay me, and I shall but the +sooner be with Him in His Paradise, where there is no more pain, +neither sorrow, but the tears are wiped from all eyes, and the roses +are in bloom alway, and for ever the fruit of joy is on the trees." +</P> + +<P> +"Thy words are but the babbling of madness," said the Governor angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not mad, most noble Sapricius." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-073"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-073.jpg" ALT=""_I am not mad, most noble Sapricius_"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="383" HEIGHT="559"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 383px"> +"<I>I am not mad, most noble Sapricius</I>" +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Here, then, is the incense, sacrifice, and save thy life." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not sacrifice," replied Dorothea. +</P> + +<P> +"Then shalt thou die," said Sapricius; and he bade the doomsman take +her to the place of execution and strike off her head. +</P> + +<P> +Now as she was being led away from the judgment-seat, a gay young +advocate named Theophilus said to her jestingly: "Farewell, sweet +Dorothea: when thou hast joined thy lover, wilt thou not send me some +of the fruit and roses of his Paradise?" +</P> + +<P> +Looking gravely and gently at him, Dorothea answered: "I will send +some." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon Theophilus laughed merrily, and went his way homeward. +</P> + +<P> +At the place of execution, Dorothea begged the doomsman to tarry a +little, and kneeling by the block, she raised her hands to heaven and +prayed earnestly. At that moment a fair child stood beside her, +holding in his hand a basket containing three golden apples and three +red roses. +</P> + +<P> +"Take these to Theophilus, I pray thee," she said to the child, "and +tell him Dorothea awaits him in the Paradise whence they came." +</P> + +<P> +Then she bowed her head, and the sword of the doomsman fell. +</P> + +<P> +Mark now what follows. +</P> + +<P> +Theophilus, who had reached home, was still telling of what had +happened and merrily repeating his jest about the fruit and flowers of +Paradise, when suddenly, while he was speaking, the child appeared +before him with the apples and the roses. "Dorothea," he said, "has +sent me to thee with these, and she awaits thee in the garden." And +straightway the child vanished. +</P> + +<P> +The fragrance of those heavenly roses filled Theophilus with a strange +pity and gladness; and, eating of the fruit of the Angels, he felt his +heart made new within him, so that he, also, became a servant of the +Lord Jesus, and suffered death for His name, and thus attained to the +celestial garden. +</P> + +<P> +Centuries after her martyrdom, the body of Dorothea was laid in a +bronze shrine richly inlaid with gold and jewels in the church built in +her honour beyond Tiber, in the seven-hilled city of Rome. +</P> + +<P> +There it lay in the days when Waldo was a brother at the Priory of +Three Fountains, among the wooded folds of the Taunus Hills; and every +seven years the shrine was opened that the faithful might gaze on the +maiden martyr of Caesarea. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +An exceeding great love and devotion did Waldo bear this holy virgin, +whom he had chosen for his patroness, and one of his most ardent wishes +was that he might some day visit the church beyond Tiber, and kneel by +the shrine which contained her precious relics. In summer the red +roses, in autumn the bright apples on the tree, reminded him of her; in +the spring he thought of her youth and beauty joyously surrendered to +Christ, and the snow in winter spoke to him of her spotless innocence. +Thus through the round of the year the remembrance of her was present +about him in fair suggestions; and indeed had there been any lack of +these every gift of God would have recalled her to his mind, for was +not that—"the gift of God"—her name? +</P> + +<P> +Notwithstanding his youth, Waldo was ripe in learning, well skilled in +Latin and Greek, and so gifted beyond measure in poetry and music that +people said he had heard the singing of Angels and had brought the echo +of it to the earth. His hymns and sacred songs were known and loved +all through the German land, and far beyond. The children sang them in +the processions on the high feast days, the peasants sang them at their +work in house or field, travellers sang them as they journeyed over the +long heaths and through the mountain-forests, fishers and raftsmen sang +them on the rivers. He composed the Song of the Sickle which cuts at a +stroke the corn in its ripeness and the wild flower in its bloom, and +the Song of the Mill-wheel, with its long creak and quick clap, and the +melodious rush of water from the buckets of the wheel, and many another +which it would take long to tell of; but that which to himself was +sweetest and dearest was Golden Apples and Roses Red, the song in which +he told the legend of St. Dorothea his patroness. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now when Waldo was in the six-and-thirtieth year of his age he was +smitten with leprosy; and when it was found that neither the relics of +the saints, nor the prayers of holy men, nor the skill of the physician +availed to cure him, but that it was God's will he should endure to the +end, the Prior entreated him to surrender himself to that blessed will, +and to go forth courageously to the new life of isolation which awaited +him. For in those days it was not lawful that a leper should abide in +the companionship of men, and he was set apart lest his malady should +bring others to a misery like his own. +</P> + +<P> +Deep was the grief of the brethren of Three Fountains when they were +summoned to attend the sacred office of demission which was to shut out +Waldo for ever from intercourse with his fellows. And well might any +good heart sorrow, for this was the order of that office. +</P> + +<P> +The altar was draped in black, and Mass for the Dead was sung; and all +the things that Waldo would need in the house of his exile, from the +flint and iron which gave fire to the harp which should give solace, +were solemnly blessed and delivered to him. Next he was warned not to +approach the dwellings of men, or to wash in running streams, or to +handle the ropes of draw-wells, or to drink from the cups of wayside +springs. He was forbidden the highways, and when he went abroad a +clapper must give token of his coming and going. Nothing that might be +used by others should he touch except with covered hands. +</P> + +<P> +When after these warnings he had been exhorted to patience and trust in +God's mercy and love, the brethren formed a procession, with the cross +going before, and led him away to his hermitage among the wooded hills. +On a little wood-lawn, beyond a brook crossed by stepping-stones, a hut +of boughs had been prepared for him, and the Prior bade him mark the +grey boulder on the further side of the brook, for there he would find +left for him, week by week, such provisions as he needed. +</P> + +<P> +Last rite of all, the Prior entering the hut strewed over his bed of +bracken a handful of mould from the churchyard saying, "Sis mortuus +mundo—Dead be thou to the world, but living anew to God," and turfs +from the churchyard were laid on the roof of the hut. Thus in his grey +gown and hood was Waldo committed alive to his grave, and the brethren, +chanting a requiem, returned to the Priory. +</P> + +<P> +The tidings of Waldo's grievous lot travelled far and wide through the +German land, and thenceforth when his songs were sung many a true man's +heart was heavy and many a good woman's eyes were filled with tears as +they bethought them of the poor singer in his hut among the hills. +Kindly souls brought alms and provisions and laid them on his boulder +by the brook, and oftentimes as they came and went they sang some hymn +or song he had composed, for they said, "So best can we let him know +that we remember him and love him." Indeed, to his gentle heart the +sound of their human voices in that solitude was as the warm clasp of a +beloved hand. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When Waldo had lived there alone among the hills for the space of two +years and more, and his malady had grown exceeding hard to bear, he was +seized with a woeful longing—such a longing as comes upon a little +child for its mother when it has been left all alone in the house, and +has gone seeking her in all the chambers, and finds she is not there. +And as on a day he went slowly down to the boulder by the stream in the +failing light, thinking of her who had cherished his childhood—how he +had clung to her gown, how with his little hand in hers he had run by +her side, how she had taken him on her lap and made his hurts all well +with kisses, his heart failed him, and crying aloud "Mother, O mother!" +he knelt by the boulder, and laid his head on his arms, weeping. +</P> + +<P> +Then from among the trees on the further side of the brook came a +maiden running, but she paused at the stepping-stones when she saw +Waldo, and said, "Was it thy voice I heard calling 'Mother'?" +</P> + +<P> +The monk did not answer or move. +</P> + +<P> +"Art thou Brother Waldo?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Raising his head, he looked at her and replied, "I am Brother Waldo." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor brother, I pity thee," said the maiden; "there is no man or maid +but pities thee. If thou wilt tell me of thy mother, I will find her, +even were I to travel far, and bid her come to thee. Well I wot she +will come to thee if she may." +</P> + +<P> +For all his manhood and learning and holiness, Waldo could not still +the crying of the little child within him, and he told the maiden of +his mother, and blessed her, and asked her name. When she answered +that it was Dorothy, "Truly," said he, "it is a fair name and gracious, +and in thy coming thou hast been a gift of God to me." +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the maiden left him, and Waldo returned to his hut, comforted +and full of hope. +</P> + +<P> +After a month had gone Dorothy returned. Crossing the stepping-stones +in the clear light of the early morning, she found Waldo meditating by +the door of his hut. +</P> + +<P> +"I have done thy bidding, brother," she said in a gentle voice, "but +alas! thy mother cannot come to thee. Grieve not too much at this, for +she is with God. She must have died about the time thou didst call for +her; and well may I believe that it was she who sent me to thee in her +stead." +</P> + +<P> +"The will of God be done," said Waldo, and he bowed his head, and spoke +no more for a long while; but the maiden stood patiently awaiting till +he had mastered his grief. +</P> + +<P> +At length he raised his head and saw her. "Art thou not gone?" he +asked. "I thought thou hadst gone. Thou art good and gentle, and I +thank thee. Go now, for here thou mayst not stay." +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, brother," replied Dorothy, "thou hast no mother to come to thee +now, no companion or friend to minister to thee. This is my place. Do +not fear that I shall annoy or weary thee. I shall but serve and obey +thee, coming and going at thy bidding. Truly thou art too weak and +afflicted to be left any more alone." +</P> + +<P> +"It may not be, dear child. Thy father and mother or others of thy +kinsfolk need thee at home." +</P> + +<P> +"All these have been long dead," said Dorothy, "and I am alone. Here +in the wood I will find me a hollow tree, and thou shalt but call to +have me by thee, and but lift a finger to see me no more." +</P> + +<P> +"Why wouldst thou do this for me?" asked Waldo, wondering at her +persistency. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, brother, I know thy suffering and I love thy songs." +</P> + +<P> +"And dost thou not shudder at this horror that is upon me, and dread +lest the like befall thee too?" +</P> + +<P> +Then Dorothy laughed low and softly to herself, and answered only so. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In this wise the maiden came to minister to the poor recluse, and so +gracious was she and humble, so prudent and yet so tender, that in his +suffering she was great solace to him, bringing his food from the +boulder and his drink from the brook, cleaning his cell and freshening +it with fragrant herbs; and about the cell she made a garden of +wholesome plants and wild flowers, and all kindly service that was +within her power she did for him. +</P> + +<P> +So beautiful was she and of such exceeding sweetness, that when his +eyes rested upon her, he questioned in his mind whether she was a true +woman and not an Angel sent down to console him in his dereliction. +And that doubt perplexed and troubled him, for so little are we Angels +yet that in our aches and sorrows of the flesh it is not the comfort of +Angels but the poor human pitiful touch of the fellow-creature that we +most yearn for. Once, indeed, he asked her fretfully, "Tell me truly +in the name of God, art thou a very woman of flesh and blood?" +</P> + +<P> +"Truly then, brother," she answered, smiling, "I am of mortal flesh and +blood even as thou art, and time shall be when this body that thou +seest will be mingled with the dust of the earth." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it then the way of women to sacrifice so much for men as thou hast +done for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is the way of women who love well," said Dorothy. +</P> + +<P> +"Then needs must I thank thy namesake and my patroness in heaven," +rejoined Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yea, and is St. Dorothea thy patroness?" asked the maiden. +</P> + +<P> +Waldo told her that so it was, and rapturously he spoke of the young +and beautiful saint done to death in Caesarea, and of the fruit and +flowers of Paradise which she sent to Theophilus. "And I would," he +sighed under his breath, "that she would send such a gift to me." +</P> + +<P> +"All this I know," said Dorothy, "for I have learnt thy song of Golden +Apples and Roses Red, and I love it most of all thy songs, though these +be many and sung all about the world, I think. And this I will tell +thee of thy songs, that I saw in a dream once how they were not mere +words and melody, but living things. Like the bright heads of baby +Angels were they, and they were carried on wings as it were of +rose-leaves, and they fluttered about the people who loved them and +sang them, leading them into blessed paths and whispering to them holy +and happy thoughts." +</P> + +<P> +"God be blessed and praised for ever, if it be so," said Waldo; "but +this was no more than a maiden's dream." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +For two winters Dorothy ministered to the poor leper, and during this +while no one save Waldo knew of her being in the woods, and no other +man set eyes on her. The fourth year of his exile was now drawing to a +close, and Waldo had fallen into extreme weakness by reason of his +malady, and over his face he wore a mask of grey cloth, with two holes +for his great piteous eyes. It was in the springtide, and one night as +he lay sleepless in the dark, listening to the long murmur of the wind +in the swaying pines, he heard overhead sharp cries and trumpetings, +and the creaking and winnowing of wings innumerable. +</P> + +<P> +Rising from his bed, he went out of doors, and looked up into the dark +heavens; and high and spectral among the clouded stars he saw the +home-coming of the cranes. He sat on the bench beside his door, and +watched them sail past in thousands, filling the night with a fleeting +clamour and eerie sounds. As he sat he mused on the strange longing +which brought these birds over land and sea back home, year by year, +with the returning spring, and he marvelled that the souls of men, +which are but birds of passage in these earthly fields, should be so +slow to feel that longing for their true home-land. +</P> + +<P> +That day when Dorothy came to the hut, he said to her: "It is well to +be glad, for, though the air is still keen, the spring is here. I +heard the cranes returning in the night." +</P> + +<P> +"And I too heard them; and I heard thee rejoicing, playing on thy harp +and singing." +</P> + +<P> +"That could not be, sister," said Waldo, "unless in a dream. No longer +can I touch harp-string, as thou knowest." +</P> + +<P> +"In truth I was awake and heard," said Dorothy; "and the song thou wast +singing was of birds of passage, and of the longing of exiles to go +home, and of the dark wherethrough we must pass, with cries and beating +wings, ere we can find our way back to our true home-land.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, it must have been a dream," said Waldo, "for as I sat with my +hands hidden in my gown I did but play an imaginary harp, making still +music in my heart, and no song came from my lips." +</P> + +<P> +"The more strange that I should hear!" replied Dorothy, smiling as she +went her way. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In a little while from this the poor brother felt that the end of his +martyrdom drew nigh; and as he lay feeble and faint in the shadow of +the hut (for the day was clement), sighing for the hour of his +deliverance, Dorothy came from the woods. In her hand she carried a +basket, and as she stood over him she said, "See what I have brought +for thee." +</P> + +<P> +Lifting his head weakly, and looking through the eyelets of his grey +mask, Waldo saw that the basket contained three golden apples and three +red roses, though still it was but early days in spring. At sight of +them he uttered a cry of gladness (for all it was a cry hollow and +hoarse), and strove to rise and throw himself at her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, brother," she said, "refrain; lie still and breathe the sweetness +of the roses and taste of the fruit." +</P> + +<P> +She gave him one of the apples, and putting it to his mouth he tasted +it and sighed deeply. In a moment all pain and suffering had left him, +and his spirit was light and gladsome. His eyes too were opened, so +that he knew that Dorothy had no way deceived him, but was truly a +living woman of flesh and blood like himself. Then a heavenly peace +descended upon him like a refreshing dew, and he closed his eyes for +the great ease he felt. +</P> + +<P> +While these things were happening, came from Three Fountains the +lay-brother who brought Waldo his provisions. Crossing the brook to +set his budget on the boulder, he saw the poor recluse lying in the lee +of the hut, and Dorothy leaning over him. Wherefore he hastened across +the wood-lawn, but in an instant the fair woman vanished before his +eyes, and when he came to the hut he saw that Waldo was dead. He +carried the basket of flowers and fruit to the Priory, and told what he +had seen; and the Prior, marvelling greatly, came to the place and gave +the poor leper brother a blessed burial. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now at this time a wondrous strange occurrence was the talk of Rome. +</P> + +<P> +The year wherein Waldo died was that seventh year in which the shrine +of St. Dorothea is opened in her church beyond Tiber; and the day on +which it is opened fell a little while before the death of Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +Behold, then, when on the vigil of that feast the priests unlocked the +shrine, the place where aforetime the holy body of the martyr had lain +was empty. Great was the dismay, loud the lamentation, grievous the +suspicion. The custodians of the church and the shrine were seized and +cast into prison, where they lay till the day of their trial. On the +morning of that day the church of St. Dorothea was filled with a divine +fragrance, which seemed to transpire from the empty shrine as from a +celestial flower. Wherefore once again the shrine was opened, and +there, even such as they had been seen by many of the faithful seven +years before, lay the relics of the Saint in their old resting-place. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now to all poor souls God grant a no less happy end of days than this +which He vouchsafed to the poor leper-singer Waldo of the Priory of +Three Fountains. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Seven Years of Seeking +</H3> + +<P> +Here begins the chapter of the Seven Years of Seeking. +</P> + +<P> +For, trying greatly to win sight of that blessed isle, the Earthly +Paradise, the monk Serapion and his eleven companions hoisted sail; and +for seven years they continued in that seeking, wandering with little +respite under cloud and star, in all the ways of the sea of ocean which +goeth round the world. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +[Now this chapter was read of evenings in the refectory at supper, in +the winter of the Great Snow. While the drifts without lay fathom-deep +in sheltered places, and the snow was settling on the weather-side of +things in long slopes like white pent-houses, the community listened +with rapt attention, picturing to themselves the slanting ship, and the +red sail of skins with its yellow cross in the midst, and the +marvellous vision of vast waters, and the strange islands. Then +suddenly the Prior would strike the table, and according to the custom +the reader would close his book with the words, "Tu autem, Domine—But +do Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us!" and the monks would rise, with +interest still keen in the wanderings of the Sea-farers. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that it would be of little profit to break up the reading as the +Prior was wont to break it up, I will give the story here without pause +or hindrance, as though it had all been read in a single evening at +supper, and keep my "Tu autem" for the end of all. And truly it is at +the end of all that most there is need of that prayer. So without more +ado.] +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Serapion and his companions were, all save one, monks of the Abbey of +the Holy Face. Not the first Abbey of that name, in the warm green +woods in the western creek of Broce-Liande, but the second, which is +nearer to the sunrise. For the site of the first Abbey was most +delightful, and so sheltered from the weary wind of the west, and so +open to the radiance of the morning, that, save it were Paradise, no +man could come at a place so gracious and delectable. There earliest +broke the land into leaf and blossom; and there the leaf was last to +fall; and there one could not die, not even the very aged. Wherefore, +in order that the long years of their pilgrimage might be shortened, +the brethren prevailed on the Abbot to remove to another site, nearer +the spring of the day; and in this new house, one by one in due season, +they were caught up to the repose of the heavens, the aged fathers +dying first, as is seemly. +</P> + +<P> +This then was the second Abbey of the Holy Face, and its pleasant woods +ran down to the shore of the sea. And going east or going west, where +the green billow shades into blue water, the ships of the mariners kept +passing and repassing day after day; and their sails seemed to cast an +enchanted shadow across the cloister; and the monks, as they watched +them leaning over to the breeze, dreamed of the wondrous Garden of +Eden, which had not been swallowed up by the Deluge, but had been saved +as an isle inviolate amid the fountains of the great deep; and they +asked each other whether not one of all these sea-farers would ever +bring back a fruit or a flower or a leaf from the arbours of delight in +which our first parents had dwelt. They spoke of the voyage of Brendan +the Saint, and of the exceeding loveliness of the Earthly Paradise, and +of the deep bliss of breathing its air celestial, till it needed little +to set many of them off on a like perilous adventure. +</P> + +<P> +Of all the brethren Serapion was the most eager to begin that seeking. +And this was what brought him to it at last. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +There came to the Abbey on a day in spring that youthful Bishop of +Arimathea who in after time made such great fame in the world. Tall +and stately was he, and black-bearded; a guest pleasant and wise, and +ripe with the experience of distant travel and converse with many chief +men. Now he was on his way to the great house of Glastonbury oversea, +to bring back with him, if he might be so fortunate, the body of the +saint of his city who had helped our Lord to bear His cross on the Way +Dolorous; or, if that were an issue beyond his skill, at least some +precious memorial of that saint. +</P> + +<P> +Many things worthy of remembrance he told of what he had seen and +heard; and no small marvel did it seem to speak with one who had stood +on Mount Sinai in the wilderness. From the top of that mountain, he +said, one looked down on a region stretching to the Red Sea, and in the +midst of the plain there is a monastery of saintly recluses, but no man +can discover any track that leads to it. Faint and far away the bells +are heard tolling for prime, it may be, or vespers, and it is believed +that now and again some weary traveller has reached it, but no one has +ever returned. The Ishmaelites, who dwell in the wilderness, have +ridden long in search of it, guided by the sound of the bells, but +never have they succeeded in catching a gleam of its white walls among +the palm-trees, nor yet of the green palms. The Abbot of that house, +it is said, is none other than the little child whom our Lord set in +the midst of His Disciples, saying, "Except ye become as little +children," and he will abide on the earth till our Lord's return, and +then shall he enter into the kingdom with Him, without tasting death. +</P> + +<P> +Speaking of the holy places, Calvary, it might be, or the Garden of +Olives and the sepulchre of the Lord, and of the pilgrims who visited +these, he repeated to us the saying of the saintly Father Hieronymus: +"To live in Jerusalem is not a very holy thing, but to live a holy life +in Jerusalem." And walking with many of our brethren on the shore of +the sea and seeing the sails of the ships as they went by, he +questioned us of the wonders of the great waters, and of sea-faring, +and of the last edge of the living earth, and he said: "Tell me, you +who abide within sight of so many ships, and who hear continually the +song of the great creature Sea, how would it fare with one who should +sail westward and keep that one course constantly?" +</P> + +<P> +We said that we knew not; it were like he would perish of famine or +thirst, or be whelmed in the deep. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay," he said, "but if he were well provisioned, with no lack of food +and water, and the weather held fair?" +</P> + +<P> +That we could not answer, for it seemed to us that such a one would +lose heart and hope in the roofless waste, with never a stone or tree, +nor any shadow save a cloud's, and turn back dismayed; but Serapion +replied: "To me it appears, your Discretion, that so bold a mariner, if +years failed him not, might win to the Earthly Paradise." +</P> + +<P> +"So have I heard," said the Bishop. "Yet here would you be sailing +into the west, and for a certainty the Paradise of God was in the east. +How would you give a reasonable account of this?" +</P> + +<P> +But we could make no reply, for we knew not; nor Serapion more than we. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, watching the sea," said the Bishop, "you have marked the ships, +how they go. When they come to you, they first show the mast-top, then +the sail, and last the body of the ship, and perchance the sweep of the +oars, reverse-wise when they depart from you, you first fail to see the +body of the ship, and then the sail, but longest you hold in sight the +mast-top, or it may be a bright streamer flying therefrom, or a cross +glittering in the light—though these be but small things compared with +the body of the ship. Is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +We answered, readily enough, that so it was. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it not then even as though one were to watch a wayfarer on +horse-back, going or coming over the green bulge of a low hill? Were +he coming to you, you would first see the head of the rider, and last +the legs of the horse, and were he riding away the horse would first go +down over the hill, but still, for a little, you would see the man +waving his hand in farewell as he sank lower and lower." +</P> + +<P> +Such indeed, we said, was the fashion of a ship's coming and going. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it not then seem a likely thing," said his Discretion, "that the +sea is in the nature of a long low hill, down which the ships go? So +have I heard it surmised by wise men, sages and scholars of the lights +of heaven, in the cities of Greece and Egypt. For the earth and the +ocean-sea, they teach, is fashioned as a vast globe in the heights of +heaven. And truly, if indeed it be the shadow of the world which +darkens the face of the moon in time of eclipse, the earth may well be +round, for that shadow is round. Thus, then, one holding ever a +westward course might sail down the bulge of the sea, and under the +world, and round about even unto the east, if there be sea-way all +along that course." +</P> + +<P> +Silently we listened to so strange a matter, but the Bishop traced for +us on the sand a figure of the earth. "And here," said he, "is this +land of ours, and here the sea, and here the bulge of ocean, and here a +ship sailing westward; and here in the east is the Earthly Paradise; +and mark now how the ship fareth onward ever on the one course +unchanged, till it cometh to that blessed place." +</P> + +<P> +Truly this was a wondrous teaching; and when we questioned how they who +sailed could escape falling out and perishing, they and indeed their +ship, when they came so far down the round sea that they hung heads +nethermost, his Discretion laughed: "Nay, if the sea, which the wind +breaketh and lifteth and bloweth about in grey showers, fall not out, +neither will the ship, nor yet the mariners; for the Lord God hath so +ordered it that wheresoever mariners be, there the sea shall seem to +them no less flat than a great grass-meadow when the wind swings the +grass; and if they hang head downward they know not of it; but rather, +seeing over them the sun and the clouds, they might well pity our evil +case, deeming it was we who were hanging heads nethermost." +</P> + +<P> +Now this and suchlike converse with the Bishop so moved Serapion that +he lost the quietude of soul and the deep gladness of heart which are +the portion of the cloister. Day and night his thought was flying +under sail across the sea towards the Earthly Paradise, and others +there were who were of one longing with him. Wherefore at last they +prayed leave of the Abbot to build a ship and to try the venture. +</P> + +<P> +The Abbot consented, but when they besought him to go with them and to +lead them, he shook his head smiling, and answered: "Nay, children, I +am an aged man, little fitted for such a labour. Wiser is it for me to +lean my staff against my fig-tree, and have in mind the eternal years. +Moreover, as you know, many are the sons in this house who look to me +for fatherly care. But if it be your wish, one shall go with you to be +the twelfth of your company. In hours of peril and perplexity and +need, if such should befall you, you shall bid him pray earnestly, and +after he has prayed, heed what he shall say, even as you would heed the +words of your Abbot. No better Abbot and counsellor could you have, +for he hath still preserved his baptismal innocence. It is Ambrose, +the little chorister." +</P> + +<P> +Serapion and the others wondered at this, but readily they accepted the +Abbot's choice of a companion. +</P> + +<P> +Think now of the ship as built—a goodly ship of stout timber frame +covered two-ply with hides seasoned and sea-worthy, well found in +provisions against a long voyage, fitted with sturdy mast of pine and +broad sail. And think of the Mass as sung, with special prayer to Him +who is the confidence of them that are afar off upon the sea. And +think of the leave-taking and blessing as over and done, and of the +Sea-farers as all aboard, eleven brethren and Ambrose the chorister, a +little lad of nine summers. +</P> + +<P> +Now all is cast loose, and the red sail is drawn up the mast and set +puffing, and the ship goes out, dipping and springing, into the deep. +On the shore the religious stand watching; and Serapion is at the +rudder, steering and glancing back; and the others aboard are waving +hands landward; and on a thwart beside the mast stands the little lad, +and at a sign from Serapion he lifts up his clear sweet voice, singing +joyfully the <I>Kyrie eleison</I> of the Litany. The eleven join in the +glad song, and it is caught up by the voices of those on shore, as +though it were by an organ; and as he sings the lad Ambrose watches the +white ruffled wake-water of the ship, how it streams between the +unbroken green sea on either hand, and it seems to him most like the +running of a shallow brook when it goes ruffling over the pebbles in +the greenwood. +</P> + +<P> +To those on ship and to those on shore the song of each grew a fainter +hearing as the distance widened; and the magnitude of the ship +lessened; and first the hull went down the bulge of the ocean, and next +the sail; and long ere it was sunset all trace of the Sea-farers had +vanished away. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now is this company of twelve gone forth into the great waters; far +from the beloved house of the Holy Face are they gone, and far from the +blithesome green aspect of the good earth; and no man of them knoweth +what bane or blessing is in store for him, or whether he shall ever +again tread on grass or ground. A little tearfully they think of their +dear cloister-mates, but they are high of heart nothing the less. +Their ship is their garth, and cloister, and choir, wherein they praise +God with full voices through all the hours from matins to compline. +</P> + +<P> +Of the bright weather and fresh wind which carried them westward many +days it would be tedious to tell, and indeed little that was strange +did they see at that time, save it were a small bird flying high +athwart their course, and a tree, with its branches and green leaves +unlopped, which lay in the swing of the wave; but whither and whence +the bird was flying, or where that tree grew in soil, they could not +guess. +</P> + +<P> +Of what happened to them in the course of their seeking, even of that +the telling must be brief, flitting from one event to another, even as +the small Peter-bird flits from the top of one wave to the top of +another, nor wets foot or feather in the marbled sea between; else +would the story of the seeking linger out the full seven years of the +seeking. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The first trial that befell them was dense wintry fog, in the dusk of +which they lay with lowered sail on a sullen sea for a day and a night. +When the change came, it brought with it the blowing of a fierce gale +with a plague of sleet and hail-stones, and they were chased out of the +fog, and driven far into the south. +</P> + +<P> +Great billows followed them as they ran, and broke about the stern of +the ship in fountains of freezing spray which drenched them to the +skin. Little ease had they in their sea-faring in that long race with +the north wind, for every moment they looked to have the mast torn up +by the root and the frame-work of the ship broken asunder. The salt +surf quenched their fire and mingled their bread with bitterness. +</P> + +<P> +Aching they were and weary, and sorrowful enough to sleep, when the +tempest abated, and the sun returned, and the sea rolled in long glassy +swells. +</P> + +<P> +As the sun blazed out, and the sea glittered over all his trackless +ways, Serapion said to the chorister: "Ha, little brother, 'tis good, +is it not? to see the bright sun once more. His face is as the face of +an Angel to us." +</P> + +<P> +The lad looked at him curiously, but made no answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Art thou ailing, or sad, or home-sick, little one, that thou hast +nought to say?" asked Serapion. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, father, I was but thinking of thy words, that the face of the sun +is as the face of an Angel." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay! And is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, father. When I have seen the sun at sunrise and at sunset I have +ever seen a ring of splendid Angels, and in the midst of the ring the +snow-white Lamb with his red cross, and the Angels were moving +constantly around the Lamb, joyfully glittering; and that was the sun. +But as it rose into the heavens the Angels dazzled mine eyes so that I +could see them no more, nor yet the Lamb, for very brightness. Is the +sun then otherwise than what I see?" +</P> + +<P> +Then was it Serapion's turn to muse, and he answered: +</P> + +<P> +"To thy young eyes which be clear and strong—yet try them not +overmuch—it is doubtless as thou sayest; but we who are older have +lost the piercing sight, and to us the sun is but a great and wonderful +splendour which dazzles us before we can descry either the Angels or +the Lamb." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile the Sea-farers ate and drank and spread their raiment to dry, +and some were oppressed by the memory of the hardships they had +endured; but Serapion, going among them, cheered them with talk of the +Earthly Paradise, and of the joy it would be, when they had won +thither, to think of the evil chances through which they had passed. +In a low tone he also spoke to them of their small companion and his +vision of the sun. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly," he said, "it is as our Father Abbot told us—he has not lost +his baptismal innocence, nor hath he lost all knowledge of the heaven +from which he came." +</P> + +<P> +As he was speaking thus, one of the brethren rose up with a cry, and, +shading his eyes with his hand, pointed into the west. Far away in the +shimmer of the sea and the clouds they perceived an outline of land, +and they changed their course a little to come to it. The wind carried +them bravely on, and they began to distinguish blue rounded hills and +ridges, and a little later green woodland, and still later, on the edge +of twilight, the white gleam of waters, and glimpses of open lawns +tinged with the colour of grasses in flower. +</P> + +<P> +With beating hearts they leaned on the low bulwark of the ship, +drinking in the beauty of the island. +</P> + +<P> +Then out of a leafy creek shot a boat of white and gold; and though it +was far off, the air was so crystalline that they saw it was garlanded +with fresh leaves, and red and yellow and blue blossoms; and in it +there were many lovely forms, clothed in white and crowned with wreaths +rose-coloured and golden. +</P> + +<P> +When the Sea-farers perceived that the boat glided towards them without +sail or oar, they said among themselves, "These are assuredly the +spirits of the Blessed;" and when suddenly the boat paused in its +course, and the islanders began a sweet song, and the brethren caught +the words and knew them for Latin, they were fain to believe that they +had, by special grace and after brief tribulations, got within sight of +the shore they sought. +</P> + +<P> +The song was one of a longing for peace and deep sleep and dreamful joy +and love in the valleys of the isle; and it bade the Sea-farers come to +them, and take repose after cold and hunger and toil on the sea. Tears +of gladness ran down the cheeks of several of the Seekers as they +listened, and one of them cried aloud: "O brothers, we have come far, +but it is worth the danger and the suffering to hear this welcome of +the Blessed." +</P> + +<P> +Now the small chorister, who was standing by Serapion at the helm, +touched the father's sleeve, and asked in a low voice: "Have I leave to +sing in answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sing, little son," Serapion replied. +</P> + +<P> +Then, ringing the blessed bell of the Sea-farers, the child intoned the +evening hymn: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em"><I>Te lucis ante terminum—</I></SPAN><BR> +<I>Before the waning of the light.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P> +The instant his fresh young voice was heard singing that holy hymn, the +flower-garlands about the boat broke into ghastly flames, and wreathed +it with a dreadful burning; and the radiant figures were changed into +dark shapes crowned with fire; and the song of longing and love became +a wailing and gnashing of teeth. The island vanished away in rolling +smoke; and the boat burned down like a darkening ember; and the +Sea-farers in their ship were once more alone in the wilderness of +waters. +</P> + +<P> +Long they prayed that night, praising God that they had escaped the +snares and enchantments of the fiends. And Serapion, drawing the lad +to him, kissed him, saying: "God be with thee, little brother, in thy +uprising and thy down-lying! God be with thee, little son!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +After this they were again driven into the south for many a day, and +saw no earthly shore, but everywhere unending waters. A great +wonderment to them was this immensity of the sea of ocean, wherein the +land seemed a little thing lost for ever. And ever as they drove +onward, the pilot star of the north was steadfast no longer, but sank +lower and still lower in the heavens, and many of the everlasting +lights, which at home they had seen swing round it through the livelong +night, were now sunken, as it were, in the billows. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly," said Serapion, "it is even as his Discretion the Bishop told +us; whether east we sail or west, or cross-wise north and south, the +earth is of the figure of a ball. In a little while it may be that we +shall see the pilot star no more;" and he was sorely troubled in his +mind as to how they should steer thereafter with no beacon in heaven to +guide them, and how they would make their way back to the Abbey of the +Holy Face. +</P> + +<P> +In their wandering they set eyes on a thing well-nigh +incredible—nothing less than fishes rising from the depths of the sea, +and flying like birds over the ship, and diving into the sea again, and +yet again rising into the air and disporting themselves in the sun. At +night, too, they beheld about the ship trails of fire in the sea, +crossing and re-crossing each other, and the fire marked the ways of +huge blue fishes, swift and terrible; and the Sea-farers prayed that +these malignant searchers of the deep might not rise into the air and +fall ravening upon them while they slept. In the darkness strange +patches and tangles of light, blue and golden and emerald, floated past +them, and these they discovered were living creatures to which they +could give no names. Often also the sea was alive with fire, which +flashed and ran along the ridges of the waves when they curled and +broke, and many a night the sides of the ship were washed with flame, +but this fire was wet and cold, and nowise hurt a hand of those who +touched it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At last on a clear morning the little chorister came hastily to +Serapion and said: "Look, father, is not yon a glimmer of the heavenly +land we seek?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, little son, it is but grey cloud that has not yet caught the +sun," replied Serapion. +</P> + +<P> +"That, indeed, is cloud; but look higher, father. See how white and +sharp it shines!" +</P> + +<P> +Then Serapion lifted up his eyes above the cloud, and in mid heaven +there floated as it were a great rock of pointed crystal, white and +unearthly. Serapion's eyes brightened with eagerness, and the +Sea-farers gazed long at the peak, which rather seemed a star, or a +headland on some celestial shore, so bright and dreamlike was it and so +magically poised in the high air. +</P> + +<P> +All day they sailed towards it, and sometimes it vanished from their +view, but it returned constantly. On the third day they came to that +land. Bright and beautiful it was to their sea-wearied eyes; and of a +surety no land is there that goes so nearly to heaven. For it rose in +green and flowery heights till it was lost in a ring of dusky +sea-cloud; and through this vast ring of cloud it pierced its way, and +the Sea-farers saw it emerge and stand clear above the cloud, bluish +with the distance. And higher still it rose, and entered a second +great cloud-ring, but this ring was white; and once more it emerged +from the cloud-ring, and high over all towered the pyramid of shining +stone. +</P> + +<P> +"Well might it be that Angels often alight on this soaring mountain," +said Serapion, "and leave it glittering with their footprints. If life +and strength be given us, thither we also shall climb, and praise God +in the lofty places of the earth which He has made." +</P> + +<P> +They steered the ship into a sunny bay, and Serapion having blessed the +sea and the shore, they landed right joyfully. Drawing the ship high +on the beach, they chose a little grove of palm-trees beside a shallow +stream for their church and cloister; but they had not been long in +that spot before they saw the islanders gliding through the wood and +peering out at them in great amaze. Serapion went forth to them, +smiling and beckoning them to approach, but they fled and would not +abide his coming. So Serapion returned, and the Sea-farers made +themselves such a home as they might, and rested a little from their +toiling. +</P> + +<P> +When the day had come to evening, and the brethren were chanting +vespers, the islanders returned, many hundreds of them, men and women, +dusky of skin but comely and bright-eyed, and for all their raiment +they wore garlands of blossoms and girdles of woven leaves. Close they +came to the Sea-farers, and gazed at them, and the boldest touched +them, as though to assure themselves that these were living mortals +like unto themselves. But when they saw the little chorister, with his +fair white face and childish blue eyes and sunny hair, they turned to +each other with exclamations and uncouth gestures of pleasure and +wonderment. Then they hurried away and brought strange and delightful +fruit—berries, and fruit in a skin yellow and curved like a sickle +moon, and big nuts full of water sweet and cool, and these they laid +before the lad. Wreaths of flowers, too, they wove for him, and put +them on his head and about his neck, as though they were rejoiced to +see him and could not make too much of him. The brethren were light of +heart that they had come to an isle so gracious and a folk so simple +and loving. +</P> + +<P> +Sleep, sweet as dews of Paradise, fell upon their weariness that night, +and they rose refreshed and glad for matins, which they chanted by the +light of large and radiant stars flashing down through the palms. What +happened that day, however, the Sea-farers did not wholly understand +till long afterwards, when they had learned the speech of the people; +but out of their later knowledge I shall here make it plain. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the olden time the mighty mountain of this island had been a +burning mountain, and even now, in a huge craggy cup beneath the +glittering peak, there was a vast well of fire and molten rock; and the +peak and well were the lair of an evil spirit so strong and terrible +that each year the island folk gave him a child to appease him, lest in +his malignant mood he should let the well overflow and consume them +with its waters of fire. +</P> + +<P> +Wherefore, as this was the season of the sacrifice, the islanders +seeing the little chorister, how fair and beautiful he was, deemed he +would be a more acceptable offering to the spirit of evil than one of +their children, whom they were heart-sick of slaying. On this day, +therefore, they came at dawn, and with many gestures and much strange +speech led away the lad, and with gentle force kept the brethren apart +from him, though they suffered them to follow. +</P> + +<P> +In a little while the child was clothed with flowers and leaves like +one of themselves, and in the midst of a great crowd singing a +barbarous strain, he was borne on a litter of boughs up the ascent of +the mountain. Many times they paused and rested in the heat, and the +day was far spent when they reached the foot of the lofty peak. There +they passed the night, but though the brethren strove to force their +way to the lad, they were restrained by the strength of the multitude, +and they knew that violence was useless. Again in the twilight before +dawn the islanders resumed the journey and came to the edge of the +craggy cup, in the depths of which bubbled the well of fire. +</P> + +<P> +Silently they stood on the brink, looking towards the east; but the +Sea-farers, who now deemed only too well that their little brother was +about to be sacrificed to Moloch, cast themselves on their knees, and +with tears running down their faces, raised their hands in supplication +to heaven. But with a loud voice Serapion cried: "Fear not, dear son; +for the Lord can save thee from the mouth of the lion, and hear thee +from the horns of the unicorns." The little chorister answered: "Pray +for my soul, Father Serapion; for my body I have no fear, even though +they cast me into the pit." +</P> + +<P> +In the streaming east the rays of light were springing ever more +brilliantly over the clear sea; two strong men held the lad and lifted +him from the ground; an aged islander—a priest, it seemed, of that +evil spirit—white-haired and crowned with flowers, watched the sky +with dull eyes; and as the sun came up with a rush of splendour, he +called aloud: "God of the mountain-fire, take this life we give thee, +and be good and friendly to us." +</P> + +<P> +Then was little Ambrose the chorister swung twice to and fro, and +hurled far out into the rocky cup of the well of fire. And a wild cry +arose from the crowd: "Take this life, take this life!"—but even as +that cry was being uttered the lad was stayed in his fall, and he stood +on the air over the fiery well, as though the air had been turned to +solid crystal, and he ran on the air across the abyss to the brethren, +and Serapion caught him in his arms and folded him to his breast. +</P> + +<P> +Then fell a deep stillness and dread upon the people, and what to do +they knew not; but the aged priest and the strong men who had flung the +boy into the gulf came to the brethren, and casting themselves on their +faces before the chorister, placed his foot on their heads. Wherefore +Serapion surmised that they now took him for a youthful god or spirit +more powerful than the evil spirit of the fire. Touching them, he +signed to them to arise, and when they stood erect he pointed to the +abyss, and gathering a handful of dust he threw it despitefully into +the well of fire, and afterwards spat into the depths. This show of +scorn and contumely greatly overawed the people, and (as was made known +afterwards) they looked on the Sea-farers as strong gods, merciful and +much to be loved. +</P> + +<P> +Thrice did the Sea-farers hold Easter in that island, for there they +resolved to stay till they had learned the island speech, and freed the +people from the bondage of demons, and taught them the worship of the +one God who is in the heavens. +</P> + +<P> +Now though the wind blew with an icy mouth on that high peak, in the +rocks of the crater it was sheltered, and warm because of the inner +fires of the mountain. So it was ordered that in turn one brother +should abide on the peak, and one in a cave midway down the mountain, +and one on the slopes where the palms and orange-trees are rooted among +the white-flowered sweet-scented broom. And each of these had a great +trumpet of bark, and when the first ray of light streamed out of the +east in the new day, the brother of the peak cried through his trumpet +with a mighty voice: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>Laudetur Jesus Christus,</I><BR> +<I>May Christ Jesus be praised,</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and the brother of the cave, having responded, +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>In saecula saeculorum,</I><BR> +<I>World without end,</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +cried mightily to the brother of the palms, "May Christ Jesus be +praised!"—and thus from the heights in the heavens to the shore of the +sea. So, too, when the last light of the setting sun burned out on the +western billows. +</P> + +<P> +Thus was the reign of the spirit of evil abolished, and the mountain +consecrated to the praise of Him who made the hills and the isles of +the sea. +</P> + +<P> +In the strong light of the morning sun the shadow of that mountain is +cast over the great sea of ocean further than a swift ship may sail +with a fair wind in two days and two nights; and a man placed on the +peak shall see that shadow suddenly rise up from the sea and stand over +against the mountain, dark and menaceful, like the lost soul of a +mountain bearing testimony against its body before the judgment-seat of +God; and this is a very awful sight. +</P> + +<P> +Now, having preached the Gospel, the Sea-farers strengthened their ship +and launched into the deep after the third Eastertide, and having +comforted the people, because they were grieved and mournful at their +departure, they left them in the keeping of the risen Lord, and +continued their seeking. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +After this Brother Benedict, the oldest monk of their company, fell ill +with grievous sickness, and sorely the Sea-farers longed for some shore +where he might feel the good earth solid and at rest beneath him, and +see the green of growing things, and have the comfort of stillness and +silence. +</P> + +<P> +With astonishing patience he bore his malady, at no time repining, and +speaking never a word of complaint. When he was asked if he repented +him of the adventure, he smiled gently. "Fain, indeed," he said, +"would I be laid to rest beneath the grass of our own garth, where the +dear brethren, passing and repassing in the cloister, might look where +I lay and say an 'Our Father' for my soul. Yet in no way do I repent +of our sailing, for we have seen the marvellous works of God; and if +the Lord vouchsafe to be merciful to me, it may be that I shall see the +Heavenly Paradise before you find the Earthly." "God grant it, dear +brother," said Serapion. +</P> + +<P> +On an afternoon they came to a small island walled about with high +cliffs, red and brown, and at the foot of the cliffs a narrow beach of +ruddy sand; but on the rocks grew no green thing, lichen or moss or +grass or shrub, and no sweet water came bickering down into the sea. +</P> + +<P> +On landing they discovered a gully in the cliffs which led inland, and +straightway explorers were sent to spy what manner of land it was +whereon they had fallen. Within the very mouth of the narrow pass they +came upon a small ship hollowed out of a tree gigantic, but it was +rotten and dry as touchwood, and wasting into dust. Within the ship +lay the bones of a man, stretched out as though he had died in sleep. +Outside the ship lay the bones of two others. The faces of these were +turned downward to the stones whereon they lay, but the man in the ship +had perished with his eyes fixed on the heavens. The oars and sails +and ropes were all dry and crumbling, and the raiment of the men had +mouldered away. +</P> + +<P> +In the length of that narrow pass between the lofty cliff-walls the +Sea-farers found no vestige of grass or weed, either on the cliff-sides +or on the stones and shingle. Neither was there any water, save where +in the hollows of some of the boulders rain had lodged and had not yet +been drunk up by the sun. No living creature, great or small, lived in +that ghyll. +</P> + +<P> +Within the round of the sea-walls the island lay flat and low, and it +was one bleak waste of boulder and shingle, lifeless and waterless save +for the rain in the pitted surfaces of the stones; but in the midst of +the waste there stood, dead and leafless, a vast gaunt tree, which at +one time must have been a goodly show. When the Sea-farers reached it, +they found lying on the dead turf about its roots the white bones of +yet four other men. +</P> + +<P> +Much they questioned and conjectured whence these ill-starred wanderers +had come to lay their bones on so uncharitable a soil, and whether they +had perished in seeking, like themselves, for the Earthly Paradise. +"What," sighed one, "if this were the Earthly Paradise, and yon the +Tree of Life!" But the others murmured and would not have it so. +</P> + +<P> +Yet to the sick man even this Isle of the Stones of Emptiness was a +place of rest and respite from the sea,—"It is still mother-earth," he +said, "though the mother be grown very old and there be no flesh left +on her bones"—and at first it seemed as though he was recovering in +the motionless stillness and in the great shadow of the cliffs. +Something of this Serapion said to the little chorister, but the lad +answered: "Nay, father, do you not see how the man that used to look +out of his eyes has become a very little child—and of such is the +kingdom of heaven?" +</P> + +<P> +"Explain, little brother," said Serapion. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," said the lad, "is it not thus with men when they grow so old or +sick that they be like to die—does one not see that the real selves +within them look out of window with faces grown younger and smaller and +more joyous, till it may be that what was once a strong man, wise and +great, is but a babbling babe which can scarce walk at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who told thee these things?" asked Serapion. +</P> + +<P> +"No one has told me," replied the lad, "but seeing the little children +thus gazing out, and knowing that all who would enter into heaven must +become as they are, I thought it must needs be in this manner that +people change and pass away to God when the ending of life is come." +</P> + +<P> +On this isle the Sea-farers kept a Christmas, and they made such cheer +as they might at that blessed time, speaking of the stony fields +wherein the Shepherds lay about their flocks, but no fields were ever +so stony as these which were littered with stones fathom-deep, with +never a grain of earth or blade of grass between. And in this isle it +was that Brother Benedict died, very peaceful, and without pain at the +close. On the feast of the Three Kings that poor monk was privileged +even more than those Kings had been, for not only was the Babe of +Heaven made manifest to him, but his soul, a little child, went forth +from him to be with that benign Babe for evermore. Under the dead tree +the Sea-farers buried him, and on the trunk of the tree they fastened a +crucifix on the side on which he reposed. +</P> + +<P> +The bones, too, of the dead men they gathered together and covered with +stones in a hollow which they made. +</P> + +<P> +So they left the island, marvelling whence all those stones had come, +and how they had been rained many and deep on that one place. Said +one, "It may be that these are the stones wherewith our Lord and the +prophets and the blessed martyrs were stoned, laid up as in a treasury +to bear witness on the day of doom." "It may be," said another, "that +these are the stones which Satan, tempting the Lord, bade Him turn into +bread, and therefore are they kept for an evidence against the +tempter." "Peradventure these be the stony places," said another, +"whereon the good seed fell and perished in its first upspringing, and +so they be kept for the admonishment of rash Sea-farers and such as +have no long-continuance in well-doing." But no man among them was +satisfied as to the mystery of that strange isle. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +On many other shores they set foot. Most were fruitful and friendly; +and they rested from their seeking, and repaired the ship, and took in +such stores as they might gather during their sojourn. Though often it +befell that while they were still afar the wind wafted them the +fragrance of rare spices so that their eyes brightened and their faces +reddened with joyful anticipation, yet ever when they landed they found +that not yet, not yet had they reached the island garden of their +quest. Men, too, of the same fashion as themselves they met with on +shores far apart, but strange were these of aspect and speech and +manner of life. With them they tarried as long as they might, gaining +some knowledge of their tongue, and revealing to them the true God and +the Lord crucified. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the latter time of their sea-faring they were blown far over the +northern side of the great sea, in such wise that the pilot star burned +well-nigh overhead in the heavens. Here they descried tall islands of +glittering rock, white and blue, crowned with minsters and castles and +abbeys of glass, but they heard no sound of bells or of men's voices or +of the stir of life. +</P> + +<P> +Once as they were swept along in near peril of wreck, through flying +sea-smoke and plagues of hail, they heard a strange unearthly music +rising and falling in the blast. Some said it was Angels sent to +strengthen them; others said it was wild birds which they had seen +flying past in flocks; but Serapion said, "If it be Angels, blessed be +God; if it be birds, yet even they are God's Angels, lessoning us how +we shall praise Him, and sing Him a new song from the ends of the +earth." Then he raised his voice, singing the psalm +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em"><I>Laudate Dominum de caelis,</I></SPAN><BR> +<I>Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise Him in the heights,</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and the Sea-farers sang it with earnest voices and with hearts lifted +up, and they were greatly encouraged. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was in these latitudes stormy and cold that, to their thinking, the +Sea-farers won nearest to the Earthly Paradise. For, far in the sides +of the north as, in the red sunlight, they coasted a lofty land white +with snow-fields and blue with glacier ice, they entered a winding +fjord, and found themselves in glassy water slumbering between green +slopes of summer. +</P> + +<P> +Down to the water's edge the shores were wooded with copses of dwarf +birch and willow, and the slopes were radiant with wild +flowers—harebell and yellow crowfoot, purple heath and pink azalea and +starry saxifrage. A rosy light tinged the snow on the wintry heights; +and over the edge of a cliff, far up the fjord, a glacier hung, and +from beneath the ice a jet of water burst forth and fell foaming down +the precipice to the shore. When they landed they found the ground +covered thick with berries dark and luscious, and while they gathered +these, a black and white snow-bunting flitted about them on its long +wings. +</P> + +<P> +A miraculous thing was this garden of summer in the icy bosom of +winter, but a greater marvel still was the undying sunshine on sea and +shore. +</P> + +<P> +"In very truth," said Serapion, "of all places we have yet seen is not +this most like to have been the blessed land, for is not even 'the +night light about us,' and is it not with us as it is written of the +Heavenly Jerusalem, 'there shall be no night there'?" +</P> + +<P> +The Sea-farers took away with them many of the leaves and flowers of +this country, and afterwards the scribes in the Scriptorium copied them +in beautiful colours in the Golden Missal of the Abbey. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This was the last of the unknown shores visited by the Sea-farers. +Seven years had they pursued their seeking, and there now grew on them +so strong a craving for home that they could gainsay it no longer. +Wherefore it fell out that in the autumn-tide, when the stubble is +brown in the fields and the apple red on the bough; on the last day of +the week, when toil comes to end; in the last light of the day, when +the smoke curls up from the roof, they won their long sea-way home. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-111"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-111.jpg" ALT="_They won their long sea-way home_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="386" HEIGHT="551"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 386px"> +<I>They won their long sea-way home</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +O beloved Abbey of the Holy Face, through tears they beheld thy walls, +with rapture they kissed thy threshold! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"In all the great sea of ocean," said Serapion, when he had told the +story of their wandering, "no such Earthly Paradise have we seen as +this dear Abbey of our own!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear brethren," said the Abbot, "the seven years of your seeking have +not been wasted if you have truly learned so much. Far from home have +I never gone, but many things have come to me. To be ever, and to be +tranquilly, and to be joyously, and to be strenuously, and to be +thankfully and humbly at one with the blessed will of God—that is the +Heavenly Paradise; and each of us, by God's grace, may have that within +him. And whoso hath within him the Heavenly Paradise, hath here and +now, and at all times and in every place, the true Earthly Paradise +round about him." +</P> + +<P> +Here ends the chapter of the Seven Years of Seeking. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +["But do Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us," chanted the Lector, as he +closed the book. And the Prior struck the board, and the brethren +arose and returned God thanks for the creatures of food and drink, and +for that Earthly Paradise, ever at their door, of tranquil and joyous +and strenuous and thankful and humble acceptance of God's will.] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Guardians of the Door +</H3> + +<P> +There was once an orphan girl, far away in a little village on the edge +of the moors. She lived in a hovel thatched with reeds, and this was +the poorest and the last of all the houses, and stood quite by itself +among broom and whins by the wayside. +</P> + +<P> +From the doorway the girl could look across the wild stretches of the +moorland; and that was pleasant enough on a summer day, for then the +air is clear and golden, and the moor is purple with the bloom of the +ling, and there are red and yellow patches of bracken, and here and +there a rowan tree grows among the big grey boulders with clusters of +reddening berries. But at night, and especially on a winter night, the +darkness was so wide and so lonely that it was hard not to feel afraid +sometimes. The wind, when it blew in the dark, was full of strange and +mournful voices; and when there was no wind, Mary could hear the cries +and calls of the wild creatures on the moor. +</P> + +<P> +Mary was fourteen when she lost her father. He was a rough idle +good-for-nothing, and one stormy night on his way home from the tavern +he went astray and was found dead in the snow. Her mother had died +when she was so small a child that Mary could scarcely remember her +face. So it happened that she was left alone in the world, and all she +possessed was a dog, some fowls, and her mother's spinning wheel. +</P> + +<P> +But she was a bright, cheerful, courageous child, and soon she got from +the people of the village sufficient work to keep her wheel always +busy, for no one could look into her face without liking her. People +often wondered how so rude and worthless a fellow could have had such a +child; she was as sweet and unexpected as the white flowers on the bare +and rugged branches of the blackthorn. +</P> + +<P> +Her hens laid well, and she sold all the eggs she could spare; and her +dog, which had been trained in all sorts of cunning by her father, +often brought her from the moors some wild thing in fur or feathers +which Mary thought there was no harm in cooking. +</P> + +<P> +Her father had been too idle and careless to teach her anything, and +all that she could recollect of her mother's instruction was a little +rhyme which she used to repeat on her knees beside the bed every night +before she went to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +And this was the rhyme: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>God bless this house from thatch to floor,</I><BR> +<I>The twelve Apostles guard the door,</I><BR> +<I>And four good Angels watch my bed,</I><BR> +<I>Two at the foot and two the head.</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 4em"><I>Amen.</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="img-121"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-121.jpg" ALT=""_And four good Angels watch my bed_"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="379" HEIGHT="560"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 379px"> +"<I>And four good Angels watch my bed</I>" +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Though she was all alone in the world, and had no girl of her own age +to make friends with, she was happy and contented, for she was busy +from morning till night. +</P> + +<P> +And yet in spite of all this, strange stories began to be whispered +about the village. People who happened to pass by the old hut late at +night declared that they had seen light shining through the chinks in +the window-shutter when all honest people should have been asleep. +There were others who said they had noticed strange men standing in the +shadows of the eaves; they might have been highwaymen, they might have +been smugglers—they could not tell, for no one had cared to run the +risk of going too near—but it was quite certain that there were +strange things going on at the hut, and that the girl who seemed so +simple and innocent was not quite so good as the neighbours had +imagined. +</P> + +<P> +When the village gossip had reached the ears of the white-headed old +Vicar, he sent for the girl and questioned her closely. Mary was +grieved to learn that such untrue and unkind stories were told about +her. She knew nothing, she said, of any lights or of any men. As soon +as it was too dusky to see to work she always fastened her door, and +after she had had her supper, she covered the fire and blew out the +rushlight and went to bed. +</P> + +<P> +"And you say your prayers, my daughter, I hope?" said the Vicar kindly. +</P> + +<P> +Mary hung down her head and answered in a low voice, "I do not know any +proper prayers, but I always say the words my mother taught me." +</P> + +<P> +And Mary repeated the rhyme: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>God bless this house from thatch to floor,</I><BR> +<I>The twelve Apostles guard the door,</I><BR> +<I>And four good Angels watch my bed,</I><BR> +<I>Two at the foot and two the head.</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 4em"><I>Amen.</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"There could not be a better prayer, dear child!" rejoined the Vicar, +with a smile. "Go home now, and do not be troubled by what idle +tongues may say. Every night repeat your little prayer, and God will +take care of you." +</P> + +<P> +Late that night, however, the Vicar lit his lantern and went out of +doors, without a word to any one. All the village was still and dark +as he walked slowly up the road towards the moor. +</P> + +<P> +"She is a good girl," he said to himself, "but people may have observed +something which has given rise to these stories. I will go and see +with my own eyes." +</P> + +<P> +The stars were shining far away in the dark sky, and the green plovers +were crying mournfully on the dark moor. As he passed along the +lantern swung out a dim light across the road, which had neither walls +nor hedges. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a lonely place for a child to live in by herself," he thought. +</P> + +<P> +At last he perceived the outline of the old hovel, among the gorse and +broom, and the next moment he stopped suddenly, for there, as he had +been told, a thread of bright light came streaming through the shutters +of the small window. He drew his lantern under his cloak, and +approached cautiously. The road where he stood was now dim, but by the +faint glimmer of the stars he was able to make out that there were +several persons standing under the eaves, and apparently whispering +together. +</P> + +<P> +The Vicar's good old heart was filled with surprise and sorrow. Then +it suddenly grew hot with anger, and throwing aside his cloak and +lifting up the lantern he advanced boldly to confront the intruders. +But they were not at all alarmed, and they did not make any attempt to +escape him. Then, as the light fell upon their forms and faces, who +but the Vicar was struck with awe and amazement, and stood gazing as +still as a stone! +</P> + +<P> +The people under the eaves were men of another age and another world, +strangely clothed in long garments, and majestic in appearance. One +carried a lance, and another a pilgrim's staff, and a third a +battle-axe; but the most imposing stood near the door of the hut, and +in his hand he held two large keys. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant the Vicar had guessed who they were, and had uncovered +his head and fallen on his knees; but the strangers melted slowly away +into the darkness, as if they had been no more than the images of a +dream. And indeed the Vicar might have thought that he really had been +dreaming but for the light which continued to stream through the chink +in the shutter. +</P> + +<P> +He arose from his knees and moved towards the window to peep into the +hut. Instantly an invisible hand stretched a naked sword across his +path, and a low deep voice spoke to him in solemn warning: +</P> + +<P> +"It is the light of Angels. Do not look, or blindness will fall upon +you, even as it fell upon me on the Damascus road." +</P> + +<P> +But the aged Vicar laid his hand on the sword, and tried to move it +away. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me look, let me look!" he said; "better one glimpse of the Angels +than a thousand years of earthly sight." +</P> + +<P> +Then the sword yielded to his touch and vanished into air, and the old +priest leaned forward on the window-sill and gazed through the chink. +And with a cry of joy he saw a corner of the rude bed, and beside the +corner, one above the other, three great dazzling wings; they were the +left-hand side wings of one of the Angels at the foot of the bed. +</P> + +<P> +Then all was deep darkness. +</P> + +<P> +The Vicar thought that it was the blindness that had fallen upon him, +but the only regret he felt was that the vision had vanished so +quickly. Then, as he turned away, he found that not only had he not +lost his sight, but that he could now see with a marvellous clearness. +He saw the road, and even the foot-prints and grains of sand on the +road; the hut, and the reeds on the hut; the moor, and the boulders and +the rowan-trees on the moor. Everything was as distinct as if it had +been—not daylight, but as if the air were of the clear colour of a +nut-brown brook in summer. +</P> + +<P> +Praising God for all His goodness he returned home, and as he went he +looked back once and again and yet again, and each time he saw the +twelve awful figures in strange clothing, guarding the lonely thatched +hovel on the edge of the moor. +</P> + +<P> +After this there were no more stories told of Mary, and no one even +dared speak to her of the wonderful manner in which her prayer was +answered, so that she never knew what the old Vicar had seen. But late +at night people would rather go a great way round than take the road +which passed by her poor hut. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +On the Shores of Longing +</H3> + +<P> +It was in the old forgotten days when all the western coast of Spain +was sprinkled with lonely hermitages among the rocks, and with holy +houses and towers of prayer; and this west coast was thought to be the +last and outermost edge of all land, for beyond there lay nothing but +the vast ocean stream and the sunset. There, in the west of the world, +on the brink of the sea and the lights of the day that is done, lived +the men of God, looking for ever towards the east for the coming of the +Lord. Even the dead were laid in the place of their resurrection with +their feet pointing to the morning, so that when they should arise +their faces would be turned towards His coming. Thus it came to pass +that the keen white wind out of the east was named the wind of the dead +men's feet. +</P> + +<P> +Now in one or these holy houses lived the monk Bresal of the Songs, who +had followed Sedulius the Bishop into Spain. +</P> + +<P> +Bresal had been sent thither to teach the brethren the music of the +choirs of the Isle of the Gael and to train the novices in chant and +psalmody, for of all singers the sweetest was he, and he could play on +every instrument of wind or string, and was skilled in all the modes of +minstrelsy. Thereto he knew by heart numberless hymns and songs and +poems, and God had given him the gift to make songs and hymns, and +beautiful airs for the singing of them. And for these things, so sweet +and gentle was the nature of the man, he was greatly beloved +whithersoever he fared. +</P> + +<P> +A happy and holy life had he lived, but now he was growing old; and as +he looked from the convent on the cliffs far over the western waters, +he thought daily more and more of Erinn, and a great longing grew upon +him to see once more that green isle in which he had been born. And +when he saw, far below, the ships of the sea-farers dragging slowly +away into the north in the breezy sunshine or in the blue twilight, his +eyes became dim with the thought that perchance these wind-reddened +mariners might be steering for the shores of his longing. +</P> + +<P> +The Prior of the convent noticed his sadness and questioned him of the +cause, and when Bresal told him, "Why should you go?" he asked. "Do +you not love us any longer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dearly do I love you, father," replied Bresal, "and dearly this house, +and every rock and tree and flower; but no son of the Isle of the Gael +forgets the little mother-lap of earth whereon he was nursed, or the +smell of the burning peat, or the song of the robin, or the drone of +the big mottled wild bee, or the cry of the wild geese when the winter +is nigh. Even Columba the holy pined for the lack of these things. +This is what he says in one of the songs which he has left us: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>There's an eye of grey</I><BR> +<I>Looks back to Erinn far away;</I><BR> +<I>Big tears wet that eye of grey</I><BR> +<I>Seeking Erinn far away."</I><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Now the Prior loved Bresal as Jonathan loved David; and though it +grieved him to part with him, he resolved that if it could be compassed +Bresal should go back to his own country. "But you must never forget +us, and when you are happy, far away from us, you must think of us and +give us your heart in prayer." +</P> + +<P> +"Never shall I forget you, father," the Singer replied. "Indeed, it +will not be a strange thing if I shall long for you then even as I am +longing for my home now; for in truth, next to my home, most do I love +the brethren of this house, and the very house itself, and the hills +and the sea and the dying lights of the evening. But I know that it +will not be permitted me ever to return. The place of my birth will be +the place of my resurrection." +</P> + +<P> +The Prior smiled, and laid his hand gently on the monk's shoulder: "O +Bresal, if it be within my power you shall have your will." +</P> + +<P> +So he sent messengers to Sedulius the Bishop; and Sedulius, who also +had the Irish heart with its tears of longing, consented; and not many +days after the swallows and martins had gone flashing by into the +north, Bresal of the Songs was free to follow as speedily as he might. +</P> + +<P> +Long was the way and weary the pilgrimage, but at last he reached the +beloved green Isle of the Gael, and fared into the south-west—and this +is the land in which it is told that Patrick the Saint celebrated Mass +on every seventh ridge he passed over. He came at sunset on the last +day of the week to the place of bells and cells among the rocks of the +coast of Kerry. In that blessed spot there is ever a service of Angels +ascending and descending. And when he saw once more the turf dyke and +the wattled cells and the rude stone church of the brotherhood where he +had been a son of reading in his boyhood, and the land all quiet with +the labour of the week done, and the woods red with the last light of +the finished day, the tears ran down his face, and he fell on the earth +and kissed it for joy at his return. It was a glad thing for him to be +there once more; to recognise each spot he had loved, to look on the +old stones and trees, the hills and sparkling sea, the rocky isle and +the curraghs of the fisher-folk; to smell the reek of the peat curling +up blue in the sweet air; for all these things had haunted him in +dreams when he was in a distant land. +</P> + +<P> +Now when the first hunger of longing had been appeased, and the year +wore round, and the swallows gathered in the autumn, and every bush and +tree was crowded with them while they waited restlessly for a moonlight +night and a fair wind to take their flight over sea, Bresal began to +think tenderly of the home on the Spanish cliffs overhanging the brink +of the sunset. +</P> + +<P> +Then in the brown days of the autumn rains; and again in the keen +November when the leaves were falling in sudden showers—but the +highest leaves clung the longest—and puffs of whirling wind set the +fallen leaves flying, and these were full of sharp sounds and pattering +voices; and sixes of sparrows went flying with the leaves so that one +could not well say which were leaves and which were birds; and yet +again through the bitter time when the eaves were hung with icicles and +the peaks of the blue slieves were white with snow, and the low hills +and fields were hoary—the memory of the Prior and of the beloved house +prevailed with him and he felt the dull ache of separation. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-127"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-127.jpg" ALT="_And again in the keen November_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="381" HEIGHT="556"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 381px"> +<I>And again in the keen November</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +As the days passed by his trouble grew the greater, for he began to +fear that his love of the creature was attaching him too closely to the +earth and to the things of this fleeting life of our exile. In vain he +fasted and prayed and strove to subdue his affections; the human heart +within him would not suffer him to rest. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now it happened on a day when the year had turned, and a soft wind was +tossing the little new leaves and the shadows of the leaves and the new +grass and the shadows of the grass, Bresal was sitting on a rock in the +sun on the hillside. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there flashed by him, in a long swift joyous swing of flight, +two beautiful birds with long wings and forked tails and a sheen of red +and green. It was the swallows that had returned. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he felt an ascension of the heart, and then he recollected +that nearly a year had elapsed since he had seen the face of his friend +the Prior for the last time in this world. And he wondered to himself +how they all fared, whether any one had died, what this one or that was +now doing, whether they still spoke at times of him, but chiefly he +thought of the Prior, and he prayed for him with a great love. And +thinking thus as he sat on the rock, Bresal seemed to see once more the +dear house in Spain and the cliffs overlooking the vast ocean stream, +and it appeared to him as though he were once again in a favourite nook +among the rocks beside the priory. +</P> + +<P> +In that nook a thread of water trickled down into a hollow stone and +made a little pool, and around the pool grew an ice-plant with thick +round green leaves set close and notched on the edge, and a thin russet +stalk, and little stars of white flowers sprinkled with red. And hard +by the pool stood a small rounded evergreen tree from which he had +often gathered the orange-scarlet berries. At the sight of these +simple and familiar things the tears ran down Bresal's cheeks, half for +joy and half for sorrow. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now at this selfsame moment the Prior was taking the air and saying his +office near that very spot, and when he had closed his breviary, he +remembered his friend in Erinn far away, and murmured, "How is it, +Lord, with Bresal my brother? Have him, I pray Thee, ever in Thy holy +keeping." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke the gift of heavenly vision descended on the Prior, and he +saw where Bresal sat on a rock in the sun gazing at the evergreen tree +and the ice-plant about the little pool, and he perceived that Bresal +fancied he was looking at these things. +</P> + +<P> +A great tenderness for Bresal filled the Prior's heart, and he prayed: +"Lord, if it be Thy holy will, let Bresal my brother have near him +these things of which he is dreaming, as a remembrance of what his soul +loveth." Then, turning to the tree and the plant and the pool, he +blessed them and said: "O little tree and starry plant and cool well +and transparent fern, and whatsoever else Bresal now sees, arise in the +name of the Lord of the four winds and of earth and water and fire, +arise and go and make real the dream that he is dreaming." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke the trickling water and the tree and the saxifrage, and +with them parcels of soil and rock, and with the pool the blue light of +the sky reflected in it, rose like a cloud and vanished, and the Prior +beheld them no more. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At last Bresal brushed away his tears, blaming his weakness and his +enslavement to earthly affections, but the things he had seen in his +happy day-dream did not vanish. To his great amazement, there at his +feet were the little pool and the ice-plant, and hard by grew the +evergreen tree. He rose with a cry of joy, "O Father Prior, 'tis thy +prayer hath done this!" +</P> + +<P> +And care was lifted from him, for now he knew that in his human love he +had in nowise sinned against the love of God, but contrariwise the love +of his friend had drawn him closer to the love of his Maker. During +all the days of the years of his exile this little parcel of Spain was +a solace and a strength to him. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Many a hundred years has gone by since this happened, but still if you +travel in that land you may see the ice-plant and the evergreen tree. +And the name of the evergreen is the Strawberry Tree. The ice-plant, +which is also called a saxifrage, may now be seen in many a garden to +which it has been brought from the Kerry mountains, and it is known as +London Pride. Botanists who do not know the story of Bresal of the +Songs have been puzzled to explain how a Spanish tree and a Spanish +flower happen to grow in one little nook of Erinn. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Children of Spinalunga +</H3> + +<P> +The piazza or square in front of the Cathedral was the only open space +in which the children of Spinalunga had room to play. Spinalunga means +a Long Spine or Ridge of rock, and the castello or little walled town +which bore that name was built on the highest peak of the ridge, inside +strong brown stone walls with square towers. So rough and steep was +this portion of the ridge that the crowded houses, with their red roofs +and white gables, were piled up one behind another, and many of the +streets were narrow staircases, climbing up between the houses to the +blue sky. +</P> + +<P> +On the top the hill was flat, and there the Cathedral stood, and from +her niche above the great west entrance the beautiful statue of the +Madonna with the Babe in her arms looked across the square, and over +the huddled red roofs, and far away out to the hills and valleys with +their evergreen oaks and plantations of grey olives, and bright +cornfields and vineyards. +</P> + +<P> +On three sides the town was sheltered by hills, but a very deep ravine +separated them from the ridge, so that on those three sides it was +impossible for an enemy to attack the town. On the nearest hills great +pine woods grew far up the slopes, and sheltered it from the east winds +which blew over the snowy peaks. +</P> + +<P> +Now on the southern side of the square stood the houses of the Syndic +and other wealthy citizens, with open colonnades of carved yellow +stone; and all about the piazza at intervals there were orange-trees +and pomegranates, growing in huge jars of red earthenware. +</P> + +<P> +This had been the children's playground as long as any one could +remember, but in the days of the blessed Frate Agnolo the Syndic was a +grim, childless, irascible old man, terribly plagued with gout, which +made him so choleric that he could not endure the joyous cries and +clatter of the children at their play. So at last in his irritation he +gave orders that, if the children must play at all, it would have to be +in their own dull narrow alleys paved with hard rock, or outside beyond +the walls of the castello. For their part the youngsters would have +been glad enough to escape into the green country among the broom and +cypress, the red snapdragon and golden asters and blue pimpernels, but +these were wild and dangerous times, and at any moment a troop of +Free-lances from Pisa or a band of Lucchese raiders might have swept +down and carried them off into captivity. +</P> + +<P> +They had therefore to sit about their own doors, and the piazza of the +Cathedral became strangely silent in the summer evenings, and there was +a feeling of dulness and discontent in the little town. Never a whit +better off was the Syndic, for he was now angry with the stillness and +the deserted look of the square. +</P> + +<P> +In the midst of this trouble the blessed Brother Agnolo came down from +his hermitage among the pine woods, and when he heard of what had taken +place, he went straightway to the Syndic and took him to task, with +soft and gracious words. +</P> + +<P> +"Messer Gianni, pain I know will often take all sweetness out of the +temper of a man, but in this you are not doing well. There is no child +in Spinalunga but would readily forego all his happy play to give you +ease and solace, but in this way they cannot help you. By sending them +away you do but cloud their innocent lives, and you are yourself none +the better for their absence. Were it not wiser for you to seek to +distract yourself in their harmless merry-making? I may well think +that you have never watched them at their sports; but if you will bid +them come back to-day, and will but walk a little way with me, you +shall see that which shall give you content and delight so great, that +never again will you wish to banish them, but will rather pray to have +their companionship at all times." +</P> + +<P> +Now the Frate so prevailed on the Syndic that he gave consent, and bade +all the children, lass and lad, babe and prattler, come to the square +for their games as they used to do. And leaning with one hand on his +staff, and with the other on the shoulder of Brother Agnolo, he moved +slowly through the fruit-trees in the great jars to the steps of the +Cathedral. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the joy-bells began to ring, and the little people came +laughing and singing and shouting from the steep streets and staircases +and alleys, and they raced and danced into the piazza like Springtime +let loose, and they chased each other, and caught hands and played in +rings, and swarmed among the jars, as many and noisy as swallows when +they gather for their flight over sea in the autumn-tide. +</P> + +<P> +"Look well, Messer Gianni," said the Frate, "and perceive who it is +that shares their frolics." +</P> + +<P> +As the Brother spoke the eyes of the Syndic were opened; and there, +with each little child, was his Angel, clothed in white, and +white-winged; and as the little folk contended together, their Angels +contended with each other; and as they ran and danced and sang, so ran +and danced and sang their Angels. Which was the laughter of the +children, and which that of the Angels, the Syndic could not tell; and +when the plump two-year-olds tottered and tumbled, their Angels caught +them and saved them from hurt; and even if they did weep and make a +great outcry, it was because they were frightened, not because they +were injured, and straightway they had forgotten what ailed them and +were again merrily trudging about. +</P> + +<P> +In the midst of this wonderful vision of young Angels and bright-eyed +children mingling so riotously together, the Syndic heard an +inexpressibly joyous laugh behind him. Turning his head, he saw that +it was the little marble Babe in the arms of the Madonna. He was +clapping his hands, and had thrown back his head against his mother's +bosom in sudden delight. +</P> + +<P> +Did the Syndic truly see this? He was certain he did—for a moment; +and yet in that same moment he knew that the divine Babe was once more +a babe of stone, with its sweet grave face and unconscious eyes; and +when the Syndic turned again to watch the children, it was only the +children he saw; the Angels were no longer visible. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not always given to our sinful eyes to see them," said Brother +Agnolo, answering the Syndic's thought, "but whether we see them or see +them not, always they are there." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now it was in the autumn of the same year that the fierce captain of +Free-lances, the Condottiere Ghino, appeared one moonlight night before +the gates of Spinalunga, and bade the guard open in the name of Pisa. +</P> + +<P> +As I have said, the little hill-town could only be attacked on the +western side, on account of the precipitous ravine which divided it +from the hills; but the ridge before the gate was crowded with eight +hundred horsemen and two thousand men-at-arms clamouring to be +admitted. Nothing daunted, the garrison on the square towers cried +back a defiance; the war-bell was sounded; and the townspeople, men and +women, hurried down to defend the walls. +</P> + +<P> +After the first flight of arrows and quarrels the Free-lances fell back +out of bowshot, and encamped for the night, but the hill-men remained +on the watch till daybreak. Early in the morning Ghino himself rode up +the ascent with a white flag, and asked for a parley with the Syndic. +</P> + +<P> +"We are from Pisa," said the Condottiere; "Florence is against us; this +castello we must hold for our safety. If with your good-will, well and +good!" +</P> + +<P> +"We are bound by our loyalty to Florence," replied the Syndic briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"The sword cuts all bonds," said the Free-lance, with a laugh; "but we +would gladly avoid strife. Throw in your lot with us. All we ask is a +pledge that in the hour of need you will not join Florence against us." +</P> + +<P> +"What pledge do you ask?" inquired the Syndic. +</P> + +<P> +"Let twenty of your children ride back with us to Pisa," said the +Free-lance. "These shall answer for your fidelity. They shall be +cherished and well cared for during their sojourn." +</P> + +<P> +Who but Messer Gianni was the angry man on hearing this? +</P> + +<P> +"Our children!" he cried; "are we, then, slaves, that we must needs +send you our little ones as hostages? Guards, here! Shoot me down +this brigand who bids me surrender your children to him!" +</P> + +<P> +Bolts flew whizzing from the cross-bows; the Free-lance shook his iron +gauntlet at the Syndic, and galloped down the ridge unharmed. The +Syndic forgot his gout in his wrath, and bade the hill-men hold their +own till their roofs crumbled about their ears. +</P> + +<P> +Then began a close siege of the castello; but on the fourth day Frate +Agnolo passed boldly through the lines of the enemy, and was admitted +through the massive stone gateway which was too narrow for the entrance +of either cart or waggon. Great was the joy of the hill-men as the +Brother appeared among them. He, they knew, would give them wise +counsel and stout aid in the moment of danger. +</P> + +<P> +When they told him of the pledge for which the besiegers asked, he only +smiled and shook his head. "Be of good cheer," he said, "God and His +Angels have us in their keeping." +</P> + +<P> +Thoughtfully he ascended the steep streets to the piazza, and, entering +the Cathedral, he remained there for a long while absorbed in prayer. +And as he prayed his face brightened with the look of one who hears +joyful news, and when he rose from his knees he went to the house of +the Syndic, and spoke with him long and seriously. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At sunset that day a man-at-arms went forth from the gates of the +castello with a white flag to the beleaguering lines, and demanded to +be taken into the presence of the captain. To him he delivered this +message from the Syndic: "To-morrow in the morning the gate of +Spinalunga will be thrown open, and all the children of our town who +are not halt or blind or ailing shall be sent forth. Come and choose +the twenty you would have as hostages." +</P> + +<P> +By the camp-fires that night the Free-lances caroused loud and long; +but in the little hill-town the children slept sound while the men and +women prayed with pale stern faces. An hour after midnight all the +garrison from the towers and all the strong young men assembled in the +square. They were divided into two bands, and were instructed to +descend cautiously by rope-ladders into the ravine on the eastern side +of the town. Thence without sound of tongue or foot they were to steal +through the darkness till they had reached certain positions on the +flanks of the besiegers, where they were to wait for the signal of +onset. Frate Agnolo gave each of them his blessing, as one by one they +slid over the wall on to the rope-ladders and disappeared in the +blackness of the ravine. Noiselessly they marched under the walls of +the town till they reached their appointed posts, and there they lay +hidden in the woods till morning. +</P> + +<P> +The Free-lances were early astir. As the first ray of golden light +streamed over the pine woods on to the ridge and the valley, the bells +of the Cathedral began to ring; the heavy gate of the castello was +flung open, and the children trooped out laughing and gay, just as they +had burst into the square a few months ago, for this, they were told, +was to be a great feast and holiday. As they issued through the deep +stone archway they filed to right or left, and drew up in long lines +across the width of the ridge. Then raising their childish voices in a +simple hymn, they all moved together down the rough slope to the lines +of the besiegers. Brother Agnolo, holding a plain wooden cross high +above his head, led the way, singing joyously. +</P> + +<P> +It was a wonderful sight in the clear shining air of the hills, and +hundreds of women weeping silently on the walls crowded together to +watch it; and as they watched they held their breath, for suddenly in +the golden light of the morning they saw that behind each child there +was a great white-winged Angel with a fiery spear. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as that throng of singing children and shining spirits swept down +upon the Free-lances, a wild cry of panic arose from the camp. The +eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay, and plunged through the ranks +of the men-at-arms, and the mercenaries fell back in terror and +confusion, striking each other down and trampling the wounded underfoot +in their frantic efforts to escape. At that moment the hill-men who +were lying in ambush on each flank bore down on the bewildered +multitude, and hacked and hewed right and left till the boldest and +hardiest of the horsemen broke and fled, leaving their dead and dying +on the field. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-141"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-141.jpg" ALT="_The eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="384" HEIGHT="556"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 384px"> +<I>The eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +So the little hill-town of Spinalunga was saved by the children and +their Angels, and even to this day the piazza of the Cathedral is their +very own playground, in which no one can prevent them from playing all +the year round. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Sin of the Prince Bishop +</H3> + +<P> +The Prince Bishop Evrard stood gazing at his marvellous Cathedral; and +as he let his eyes wander in delight over the three deep sculptured +portals and the double gallery above them, and the great rose window, +and the ringers' gallery, and so up to the massive western towers, he +felt as though his heart were clapping hands for joy within him. And +he thought to himself, "Surely in all the world God has no more +beautiful house than this which I have built with such long labour and +at so princely an outlay of my treasure." And thus the Prince Bishop +fell into the sin of vainglory, and, though he was a holy man, he did +not perceive that he had fallen, so filled with gladness was he at the +sight of his completed work. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-149"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-149.jpg" ALT=""_Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful house than this_"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="379" HEIGHT="538"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 379px"> +"<I>Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful house than this</I>" +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +In the double gallery of the west front there were many great statues +with crowns and sceptres, but a niche over the central portal was +empty, and this the Prince Bishop intended to fill with a statue of +himself. It was to be a very small simple statue, as became one who +prized lowliness of heart, but as he looked up at the vacant place it +gave him pleasure to think that hundreds of years after he was dead +people would pause before his effigy and praise him and his work. And +this, too, was vainglory. +</P> + +<P> +As the Prince Bishop lay asleep that night a mighty six-winged Angel +stood beside him and bade him rise. "Come," he said, "and I will show +thee some of those who have worked with thee in building the great +church, and whose service in God's eyes has been more worthy than +thine." And the Angel led him past the Cathedral and down the steep +street of the ancient city, and though it was midday, the people going +to and fro did not seem to see them. Beyond the gates they followed +the shelving road till they came to green level fields, and there in +the middle of the road, between grassy banks covered white with cherry +blossom, two great white oxen, yoked to a huge block of stone, stood +resting before they began the toilsome ascent. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" said the Angel; and the Prince Bishop saw a little blue-winged +bird which perched on the stout yoke beam fastened to the horns of the +oxen, and sang such a heavenly song of rest and contentment that the +big shaggy creatures ceased to blow stormily through their nostrils, +and drew long tranquil breaths instead. +</P> + +<P> +"Look again!" said the Angel. And from a hut of wattles and clay a +little peasant girl came with a bundle of hay in her arms, and gave +first one of the oxen and then the other a wisp. Then she stroked +their black muzzles, and laid her rosy face against their white cheeks. +Then the Prince Bishop saw the rude teamster rise from his rest on the +bank and cry to his cattle, and the oxen strained against the beam and +the thick ropes tightened, and the huge block of stone was once more +set in motion. +</P> + +<P> +And when the Prince Bishop saw that it was these fellow-workers whose +service was more worthy in God's eyes than his own, he was abashed and +sorrowful for his sin, and the tears of his own weeping awoke him. So +he sent for the master of the sculptors and bade him fill the little +niche over the middle portal, not with his own effigy but with an image +of the child; and he bade him make two colossal figures of the white +oxen; and to the great wonderment of the people these were set up high +in the tower so that men could see them against the blue sky. "And as +for me," he said, "let my body be buried, with my face downward, +outside the great church, in front of the middle entrance, that men may +trample on my vainglory and that I may serve them as a stepping-stone +to the house of God; and the little child shall look on me when I lie +in the dust." +</P> + +<P> +Now the little girl in the niche was carved with wisps of hay in her +hands, but the child who had fed the oxen knew nothing of this, and as +she grew up she forgot her childish service, so that when she had grown +to womanhood and chanced to see this statue over the portal she did not +know it was her own self in stone. But what she had done was not +forgotten in heaven. +</P> + +<P> +And as for the oxen, one of them looked east and one looked west across +the wide fruitful country about the foot of the hill-city. And one +caught the first grey gleam, and the first rosy flush, and the first +golden splendour of the sunrise; and the other was lit with the colour +of the sunset long after the lowlands had faded away in the blue mist +of the twilight. Weary men and worn women looking up at them felt that +a gladness and a glory and a deep peace had fallen on the life of toil. +And then, when people began to understand, they said it was well that +these mighty labourers, who had helped to build the house, should still +find a place of service and honour in the house; and they remembered +that the Master of the house had once been a Babe warmed in a manger by +the breath of kine. And at the thought of this men grew more pitiful +to their cattle, and to the beasts in servitude, and to all dumb +animals. And that was one good fruit which sprang from the Prince +Bishop's repentance. +</P> + +<P> +Now over the colossal stone oxen hung the bells of the Cathedral. On +Christmas Eve the ringers, according to the old custom, ascended to +their gallery to ring in the birth of the Babe Divine. At the moment +of midnight the master ringer gave the word, and the great bells began +to swing in joyful sequence. Down below in the crowded church lay the +image of the new-born Child on the cold straw, and at His haloed head +stood the images of the ox and the ass. Far out across the snow-roofed +city, far away over the white glistening country rang the glad music of +the tower. People who went to their doors to listen cried in +astonishment: "Hark! what strange music is that? It sounds as if the +lowing of cattle were mingled with the chimes of the bells." In truth +it was so. And in every byre the oxen and the kine answered the +strange sweet cadences with their lowing, and the great stone oxen +lowed back to their kin of the meadow through the deep notes of the +joy-peal. +</P> + +<P> +In the fulness of time the Prince Bishop Evrard died and was buried as +he had willed, with his face humbly turned to the earth; and to this +day the weather-wasted figure of the little girl looks down on him from +her niche, and the slab over his grave serves as a stepping-stone to +pious feet. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Little Bedesman of Christ +</H3> + +<P> +This is the legend of Francis, the Little Bedesman of Christ. Seven +hundred years ago was he born in Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among +the rocks; and for twenty years and more he cherished but one thought, +and one desire, and one hope; and these were that he might lead the +beautiful and holy and sorrowful life which our Lord lived on the +earth, and that in every way he might resemble our Lord in the purity +and loveliness of His humanity. +</P> + +<P> +Home and wealth and honour he surrendered, and the love of a wife and +of little prattlers on his knees; for none of these things were the +portion of Christ. +</P> + +<P> +No care he took as to how he should be sheltered by night or wherewith +he should be clothed by day; and for meat and drink he looked to the +hand of God, for these were to be the daily gift of His giving. So +that when he heard the words of the sacred Gospel read in the little +church of St. Mary of the Angels—"Provide neither gold nor silver nor +brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, +neither shoes, nor yet staves"—he went out and girt his coarse brown +dress with a piece of cord, and cast away his shoes and went barefoot +thenceforth. +</P> + +<P> +Even to this day the brethren of the great Order of religious men which +he founded are thus clothed, and girt with a cord, and shod with +nakedness. And this Order is the Order of the Lesser Brethren, the +Fratres Minores; and often they are called Franciscans, or the Friars +of St. Francis. +</P> + +<P> +But as to the thought he bestowed on his eating and drinking: once when +he and Brother Masseo sat down on a broad stone near a fresh fountain +to eat the bread which they had begged in the town, St. Francis +rejoiced in their prosperity, saying, "Not only are we filled with +plenty, but our treasure is of God's own providing; for consider this +bread which has come to us like manna, and this noble table of stone +fit for the feasting of kings, and this well of bright water which is +beverage from heaven;" and he besought God to fill their hearts with an +ardent love of the affluence of holy poverty. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-155"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-155.jpg" ALT="_St. Francis of Assisi_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="380" HEIGHT="559"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 380px"> +<I>St. Francis of Assisi</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Even the quiet and blessed peace of the cloister and the hermitage he +denied himself; for he remembered that though the Lord Christ withdrew +into the hills and went into the wilderness to refresh His soul with +prayer and communion with His Heavenly Father, it was among the sons of +men that He had His dwelling all His days. So he, too, the Little +Bedesman, often tasted great happiness among the rocks and trees of +solitary places; and his spirit felt the spell of the lonely hills; and +he loved to pray in the woods, and in their shadow he was consoled by +the visits of Angels, and was lifted bodily from the earth in ecstasies +of joy. But the work which he had set his hands to do was among men, +and in villages and the busy streets of cities. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was not in the first place to save their own souls and to attain to +holiness that he and his companions abandoned the common way of life. +Long afterwards, when thousands of men had joined his Order of the +Lesser Brethren, he said: "God has gathered us into this holy Order for +the salvation of the world, and between us and the world He has made +this compact, that we shall give the world a good example, and the +world shall make provision for our necessities." +</P> + +<P> +Yet, though he preached repentance and sorrow for sin, never was it his +wish that men and women who had other duties should abandon those +duties and their calling to follow his example. Besides the Order of +the Lesser Brethren, he had founded an Order of holy women who should +pray and praise while the men went forth to teach; but well he knew +that all could not do as these had done, that the work of the world +must be carried on, the fields ploughed and reaped, and the vines +dressed, and the nets cast and drawn, and ships manned at sea, and +markets filled, and children reared, and aged people nourished, and the +dead laid in their graves; and when people were deeply moved by his +preaching and would fain have followed him, he would say: "Nay, be in +no unwise haste to leave your homes; there, too, you may serve God and +be devout and holy;" and, promising them a rule of life, he founded the +Third Order, into which, whatever their age or calling, all who desired +to be true followers of Christ Jesus might be admitted. +</P> + +<P> +Even among those who gave themselves up wholly to the life spiritual he +discouraged excessive austerity, forbidding them to fast excessively or +to wear shirts of mail and bands of iron on their flesh, for these not +only injured their health and lessened their usefulness, but hindered +them in prayer and meditation and delight in the love of God. Once, +too, when it was revealed to him that a brother lay sleepless because +of his weakness and the pinch of hunger, St. Francis rose, and, taking +some bread with him, went to the brother's cell, and begged of him that +they might eat that frugal fare together. God gave us these bodies of +ours, not that we might torture them unwisely, but that we might use +their strength and comeliness in His service. +</P> + +<P> +So, with little heed to his own comfort, but full of consideration and +gentleness for the weakness of others, he and his companions with him +went about, preaching and praising God; cheering and helping the +reapers and vintagers in the harvest time, and working with the +field-folk in the earlier season; supping and praying with them +afterwards; sleeping, when day failed, in barns or church porches or +leper-hospitals, or may be in an old Etruscan tomb or in the shelter of +a jutting rock, if no better chance befell; till at last they came to +be known and beloved in every village and feudal castle and walled town +among the hills between Rome and Florence. At first, indeed, they were +mocked and derided and rudely treated, but in a little while it was +seen that they were no self-seekers crazed with vanity, but messengers +of heaven, and pure and great-hearted champions of Christ and His poor. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In those days of luxury and rapacity and of wild passions and ruthless +bloodshed, it was strange to see these men stripping themselves of +wealth and power—for many of the brethren had been rich and noble—and +proclaiming the Gospel of the love and gentleness and purity and +poverty of Christ. For not only were the brethren under vow to possess +nothing whatever in the world, and not only were they forbidden to +touch money on any account, but the Order itself was bound to poverty. +It could not own great estates or noble abbeys and convents, but was as +much dependent on charity and God's providing as the humblest of its +friars. +</P> + +<P> +Was it a wonderful thing that a great affection grew up in the hearts +of the people for these preachers of the Cross, and especially for the +most sweet and tender of them all, the Little Bedesman of Christ, with +the delicate and kindly face worn by fasting, the black eyes, and the +soft and sonorous voice? Greatly the common people loved our Lord, and +gladly they listened to Him; and of all men who have lived St. Francis +was most like our Lord in the grace and virtue of His humanity. I do +not think that ever at any time did he say or do anything till he had +first asked himself, What would my Lord have done or said? +</P> + +<P> +And certain it seems to me that he must have thought of the Thief in +Paradise and of the divine words Christ spoke to him on the cross, when +Brother Angelo, the guardian of a hermitage among the mountains, told +him how three notorious robbers had come begging; "but I," said the +Brother, "quickly drove them away with harsh and bitter words." "Then +sorely hast thou sinned against charity," replied the Saint in a stern +voice, "and ill hast thou obeyed the holy Gospel of Christ, who wins +back sinners by gentleness, and not by cruel reproofs. Go now, and +take with thee this wallet of bread and this little flask of wine which +I have begged, and get thee over hill and valley till thou hast found +these men; and when thou comest up with them, give them the bread and +the wine as my gift to them, and beg pardon on thy knees for thy fault, +and tell them that I beseech them no longer to do wrong, but to fear +and love God; and if this they will do, I will provide for them so that +all their days they shall not lack food and drink." Then Brother +Angelo did as he was bidden, and the robbers returned with him and +became God's bedesmen and died in His service. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water +was St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little +brothers and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or +slighted them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return +they showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade +his companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the +flowers, and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no +great fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was +a marvellous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of +slight worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders. +</P> + +<P> +For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel +the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all, +but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and +at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided +the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St. +Francis the turtle-doves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for +them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the +hands of the brethren. +</P> + +<P> +Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it +back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the +fish played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go. +</P> + +<P> +"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a +shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that +they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the +shepherd his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats +one white lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his +brown robe to offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the +Pharisees); but a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and +he took it with him to the city and preached about it so that the +hearts of those hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left +in the care of a convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great +delight, these wove him a gown of the lamb's innocent wool. +</P> + +<P> +Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his +habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he +was preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he +preached to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when +he was on his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to +hear him, and they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and +listened till he had done. And these were the words he spoke to them: +</P> + +<P> +"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your +Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him. +Freedom he has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given +you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in +the Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you +owe him for the element of air, which he has made your portion. Over +and above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and +gives you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives +you, and the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to +build your nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes +thought to clothe you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, +that your Creator loves you much, since He has granted you so many +benefits. Be on your guard then against the sin of ingratitude, and +strive always to give God praise." +</P> + +<P> +And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they +might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their +love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the +cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away +they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven. +</P> + +<P> +One more story I must tell of the Saint and the wild creatures. +</P> + +<P> +On a time when St. Francis was dwelling in the town of Agobio, there +appeared in that countryside a monstrous grey wolf, which was so savage +a man-eater that the people were afraid to go abroad, even when well +armed. A pity it was to see folk in such fear and danger; wherefore +the Saint, putting his whole trust in God, went out with his companions +so far as they dared go, and thence onward all alone to the place where +the wolf lay. +</P> + +<P> +The wild beast rushed out at him from his lair with open mouth, but St. +Francis waited and made over him the sign of the most holy cross, and +called him to him, saying, "Come hither, Brother Wolf! In the name of +Christ I bid you do no harm, neither to me nor to any one." And when +the wolf closed his jaws and stopped running, and came at the Saint's +bidding, as gentle as a lamb, and lay down at his feet, St. Francis +rebuked him for the slaying of God's creatures, the beasts, and even +men made in God's image. "But fain would I make peace," he said, +"between you and these townsfolk; so that if you pledge them your faith +that you will do no more scathe either to man or beast, they will +forgive you all your offences in the past, and neither men nor dogs +shall harry you any more. And I will look to it that you shall always +have food as long as you abide with the folk of this countryside." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon Brother Wolf, by movements of body and tail and bowing of +head, gave token of his good will to abide by that bargain. And in +sign that he plighted his troth to it he gave the Saint his paw, and +followed to the market-place of Agobio, where St. Francis repeated all +that he had said, and the people agreed to the bargain, and once more +the wolf gave pledge of his faith by putting his paw in the Saint's +hand. +</P> + +<P> +For two years thereafter Brother Wolf dwelt in Agobio, going tame and +gentle from house to house and in and out at will, doing hurt to none, +but much loved of the children and cared for in food and drink and +kindness by the townsfolk, so that no one lifted stone or stick against +him, neither did any dog bark at him. At the end of those years he +died of old age, and the people were grieved that no more should they +see his gentle coming and going. +</P> + +<P> +Such was the courtesy and sweet fellowship of St. Francis with the wild +creatures. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It remains yet to say of him that he was ever gay and joyous as became +God's gleeman. Greatly he loved the song of bird and man, and all +melody and minstrelsy. Nor was it ill-pleasing to God that he should +rejoice in these good gifts, for once lying in his cell faint with +fever, to him came the thought that the sound of music might ease his +pain; but when the friar whom he asked to play for him was afraid of +causing a scandal by his playing, St. Francis, left alone, heard such +music that his suffering ceased and his fever left him. And as he lay +listening he was aware that the sound kept coming and going; and how +could it have been otherwise? for it was the lute-playing of an Angel, +far away, walking in Paradise. +</P> + +<P> +Sweet new songs he made in the language of the common people, folk of +field and mountain, muleteers and vine-dressers, woodmen and hunters, +so that they in turn might be light of heart amid their toil and +sorrow. One great hymn he composed, and of that I will speak later; +but indeed all his sayings and sermons were a sort of divine song, and +when he sent his companions from one village to another he bade them +say: "We are God's gleemen. For song and sermon we ask largesse, and +our largesse shall be that you persevere in sorrow for your sins." +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that ladies of the world, great and beautiful, took pleasure in +the songs of the troubadours sung at twilight under their windows, he +charged all the churches of his Order that at fall of day the bells +should be rung to recall the greeting with which Gabriel the Angel +saluted the Virgin Mother of the Lord: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord +is with thee, blessed art thou among women." And from that day to this +the bells have rung out the Angelus at sunset, and now there is no land +under heaven wherein those bells are not heard and wherein devout men +hearing them do not pause to repeat that greeting angelic. +</P> + +<P> +In like fashion it was great delight to him (the Pope having given him +leave) to make in the churches of the Order a representation of the +Crib of Bethlehem on the feast of the Nativity. Of these the first was +made at the hermitage of Greccio. Thither the peasants flocked on +Christmas Eve, with lanterns and torches, making the forest ring with +their carols; and there in the church they found a stable with straw, +and an ox and an ass tethered to the manger; and St. Francis spoke to +the folk about Bethlehem and the Shepherds in the field, and the birth +of the divine Babe, so that all who heard him wept happy tears of +compassion and thankfulness. +</P> + +<P> +And as St. Francis stood sighing for joy and gazing at the empty +manger, behold! a wondrous thing happened. For the knight Giovanni, +who had given the ox and the ass and the stable, saw that on the straw +in the manger there lay a beautiful child, which awoke from slumber, as +it seemed, and stretched out its little hands to St. Francis as he +leaned over it. +</P> + +<P> +Even to this day there is no land in which you may not see, on +Christmas Eve, the Crib of Bethlehem; but in those old days of St. +Francis many souls were saved by the sight of that lowly manger from +the sin of those heretics who denied that the Word was made flesh and +that the Son of God was born as a little child for our salvation. +</P> + +<P> +The joy and gaiety of St. Francis were of two kinds. There was the joy +of love, and there was the joy of suffering for love. And of this last +he spoke a wonderful rhapsody as he journeyed once with Brother Leo, in +the grievous cold of the early spring, from Perugia to St. Mary of the +Angels. For, as Brother Leo was walking on before, St. Francis called +aloud to him:— +</P> + +<P> +"O Brother Leo, although throughout the world the Lesser Brethren were +mirrors of holiness and edification, nevertheless write it down, and +give good heed to it, that not therein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +And again, a little further on, he called aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"O Brother Leo, though the Lesser Brother should give the blind sight, +and make the misshapen straight, and cast out devils, and give hearing +to the deaf, and make the lame to walk and the dumb to speak; yea, +should he even raise the four days' dead to life, write it down that +not herein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +And yet a little further on he cried out: +</P> + +<P> +"O Brother Leo, if the Lesser Brother should know all languages, and +every science, and all the Scriptures, so that he could foretell not +solely the hidden things of the future but also the secrets of the +heart, write down that not therein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +A little further yet, and once again he cried aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"O Brother Leo, God's little sheep, though the Lesser Brother were to +speak with the tongue of the Angels, and know the courses of the stars +and the virtues of herbs, and though the treasures of the earth were +discovered to him, and he had craft and knowledge of birds and fishes +and of all living creatures, and of men, and of trees and stones, and +roots and waters, write it down that not therein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +And once more, having gone a little further, St. Francis called aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"O Brother Leo, even though the Lesser Brother could by his preaching +convert all the unbelievers to the faith of Christ, write down that not +therein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +And when, after St. Francis had spoken in this manner for the space of +two miles, Brother Leo besought him to reveal wherein might perfect joy +be found, St. Francis answered him: +</P> + +<P> +"When we are come, drenched with rain and benumbed with cold and +bespattered with mud and aching with hunger, to St. Mary of the Angels, +and knock at the door, and the porter asks wrathfully, 'Who are you?' +and on our answering, 'Two of your brethren are we,' 'Two gangrel +rogues,' says he, 'who go about cheating the world and sorning the alms +of the poor; away with you!' and whips the door to, leaving us till +nightfall, cold and famished, in the snow and rain; if with patience we +bear this injury and harshness and rejection, nowise ruined in our mind +and making no murmur of complaint, but considering within ourselves, +humbly and in charity, that the porter knows well who we are, and that +God sets him up to speak against us—O Brother Leo, write down that +therein is perfect joy." +</P> + +<P> +And perfect joy, he added, if, knocking a second time, they brought the +porter out upon them, fuming, and bidding them betake themselves to the +alms-house, for knaves and thieves, and nevertheless they bore all with +patience and with gladness and love. And yet again, he continued, if a +third time they knocked and shouted to him, for pity of their hunger +and cold and the misery of the night, to let them in, and he came, +fierce with rage, crying, "Ah, bold and sturdy vagabonds, now I will +pay you," and caught them by the hood, and hurled them into the snow, +and belaboured them with a knotty cudgel; and if still, in despite of +all pain and contumely, they endured with gladness, thinking of the +pains of the blessed Lord Christ, which for love of Him they too should +be willing to bear—then might it be truly written down that therein +was perfect joy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This was the perfect joy of the Saint most like to Christ of all the +Saints that the world has seen. And of all joys this was the most +perfect, seeing that it was by the patient way of tears and +tribulation, of bodily pain and anguish of spirit, of humiliation and +rejection, that a man might come most nearly to a likeness of Christ. +</P> + +<P> +Through all his gaiety and gladness and benignity he carried in his +heart one sorrow, and that was the memory of the Passion of our Lord. +Once he was found weeping in the country, and when he was asked whether +he was in grievous pain that he wept, "Ah!" he replied, "it is for the +Passion of my Lord Jesus that I weep; and for that I should think +little shame to go weeping through the whole world." +</P> + +<P> +Two years before his death there befell him that miraculous +transfiguration, which, so far as it may be with a sinful son of Adam, +made perfect the resemblance between him and the Saviour crucified. +And it was after this manner. +</P> + +<P> +In the upper valley of the Arno stream there towers above the pines and +giant beeches of the hills a great basalt rock, Alvernia, which looks +over Italy, east and west, to the two seas. That rock is accessible by +but a single foot-track, and it is gashed and riven by grim chasms, yet +withal great oaks and beech-trees flourish atop among the boulders, and +there are drifts of fragrant wild flowers, and legions of birds and +other wild creatures dwell there; and the lights and colours of heaven +play about the rock, and the winds of heaven visit it with wholesome +air. +</P> + +<P> +Now a great and wealthy gentleman of Tuscany, Orlando of Chiusi, gave +St. Francis that mountain for a hermitage where he could be remote from +men, and thither, with three of the brethren most dear to him, the +Saint went to spend the forty days of the Fast of St. Michael the +Archangel. +</P> + +<P> +Two nights they slept on the way, but on the third day, so worn was St. +Francis with fatigue and illness, that his companions were fain to beg +a poor peasant to lend them his ass. As they proceeded on their +journey the peasant, walking behind the ass, said to St. Francis, "Tell +me now, art thou Brother Francis of Assisi?" and when St. Francis said +he was, the peasant rejoined, "Look to it, then, that thou strive to be +as good as folk take thee to be, so that those who have faith in thee +be not disappointed in what they expect to find in thee." And +instantly St. Francis got down from the ass, and, kneeling on the +ground, kissed the peasant's feet, and thanked him for his brotherly +admonition. +</P> + +<P> +So onward they journeyed up the mountain till they came to the foot of +Alvernia, and there as St. Francis rested him under an oak, vast +flights of birds came fluttering and blithely singing, and alighted on +his shoulders and arms, and on his lap, and about his feet. "Not +ill-pleased is our Lord, I think," said he, "that we have come to dwell +on this mountain, seeing what glee our little brothers and sisters the +Birds show at our coming." +</P> + +<P> +Under a fair beech on the top of the rock the brethren built him a cell +of branches, and he lived alone in prayer, apart from the others, for +the foreknowledge of his death had overshadowed him. Once as he stood +by the cell, scanning the shape of the mountain and musing on the +clefts and chasms in the huge rocks, it was borne in upon him that the +mountain had been thus torn and cloven in the Ninth Hour when our Lord +cried with a loud voice, and the rocks were rent. And beside this +beech-tree St. Francis was many times uplifted into the air in rapture, +and many times Angels came to him, and walked with him for his +consolation. +</P> + +<P> +A while later, the brethren laid a tree across a chasm, and St. Francis +hid himself in a more lonely place, where no one might hear him when he +cried out; and a falcon, which had its nest hard by his cell, woke him +for matins, and according as he was more weary or sickly at one time +than another, that feathered brother, having compassion on him, woke +him later or sooner, and all the long day was at hand to give him +companionship. +</P> + +<P> +Here in this wild place, in September, on Holy Cross Day, early in the +morning, before the dawn whitened, St. Francis knelt with his face +turned to the dark east; and praying long and with great fervour, he +besought the Lord Christ Jesus for two graces before he died. And the +first was this, that, so far as mortal flesh might bear it, he might +feel in his body the torture which our Lord suffered in His Passion; +and the second, that he might feel in his heart the exceeding great +love for which He was willing to bear such torture. +</P> + +<P> +Now even while he was praying in this wise a mighty six-winged Seraph, +burning with light unspeakable, came flying towards him; and St. +Francis saw that the Seraph bore within himself the figure of a cross, +and thereon the image of a man crucified. Two of the six wings of the +Seraph were lifted up over the head of the crucified; and two were +spread for flying; and two veiled the whole of the body on the cross. +</P> + +<P> +Then as the Seraph drew nigh, the eyes of Christ the crucified looked +into the eyes of St. Francis, piercing and sweet and terrible; and St. +Francis could scarce endure the rapture and the agony with which that +look consumed him, and transfigured him, and burned into his body the +similitude of Christ's Passion. For straightway his hands and his feet +were pierced through and through with nails; and the heads of the nails +were round and black, and the points were bent backward and riveted on +the further side of hand and foot; and his right side was opened with +the deep thrust of the spear; and the gash was red and blood came +dropping from it. Terrible to bear was the ache of those wounds; and +for the nails in his feet St. Francis scarce could stand and could not +walk at all. +</P> + +<P> +Such was the transfiguration of the Little Bedesman of Christ into His +visible semblance on the holy rock Alvernia. +</P> + +<P> +For two years he sustained the ecstasy and anguish of that likeness, +but of his sayings and of the wonders he wrought in that time I will +not speak. +</P> + +<P> +In those days he composed the Song of the Sun, and oftentimes sang it, +and in many a village and market-place was it sung by the brethren +going two by two in their labour for souls. A mighty hymn of praise to +the Lord God most high and omnipotent was this Song of the Sun; for in +this manner it was that St. Francis sang: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Praised be Thou, my Lord; by all Thy creatures praised; and chiefly +praised by Brother Sun who gives us light of day. +</P> + +<P> +"Through him Thou shinest; fair is he, brilliant with glittering fire; +and he through heaven bears, Most High, symbol and sense of thee. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by Sister Moon be Thou; and praised by all the Stars. These +hast Thou made, and Thou hast made them precious and beautiful and +bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by Brother Wind be Thou; by Air, and Cloud that lives in air, +and all the Weathers of the world, whereby their keep Thou dost provide +for all the creatures Thou hast made. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by Sister Water, Lord, be Thou; the lowly water, precious, +pure, the gracious handmaiden. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by Brother Fire, by whom Thou makest light for us i' the dark; +and fair is he and jocund, sturdy and strong. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by our Sister Mother-Earth, which keeps us and sustains, and +gives forth plenteous fruit, and grass, and coloured flowers. +</P> + +<P> +"Praised be Thou, Lord my God, by those who for Thy love forgive, and +for Thy love endure; blessed in their patience they; by Thee shall they +be crowned." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As he drew nigh to his end at St. Mary of the Angels, he cried out, +"Welcome, Sister Death!" and when his brethren, as he had bidden them, +sang once more the Song of the Sun, he added another verse: +</P> + +<P> +"Praised by our Sister Death be Thou—that bodily death which no man +may escape. Alas for those who die in mortal sin, but happy they +conforming to Thy will; for these the second death shall nowise hurt." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the tenth month, on the fourth day of the month, in the +forty-and-fifth year of his age, having recited the Psalm, "I cried +unto Thee, O Lord, and said: Thou art my hope and my portion in the +land of the living," St. Francis died very joyfully. At the fall of +the night he died, and while still the brethren were gazing upon his +face there dropped down on the thatch of the cell in which he lay larks +innumerable, and most sweetly they sang, as though they rejoiced at the +release of their holy kinsman. +</P> + +<P> +He was buried at the great church at Assisi; but though it is thought +he lies beneath the high altar, the spot is unknown to any man, and the +hill-folk say that St. Francis is not dead at all, but that he lives +hidden in a secret crypt far down below the roots of wall and pillar. +Standing there, pale and upright, with the blood red in the five wounds +of his crucifixion, he waits in a heavenly trance for the sound of the +last trumpet, when the nations of the earth shall see in the clouds Him +whom they have pierced. +</P> + +<P> +Long after his death it was the custom of the brethren of a certain +house of his Order to go chanting in procession at midnight once in the +year to his resting-place. But the way was long and dark; the weather +often bleak and stormy. Little by little devotion cooled, and the +friars fell away, till there remained but one old monk willing to go on +this pilgrimage. As he went into the dark and the storm, the road +among the woods and rocks grew luminous, and in place of the cross and +torches and canticles of the former days, great flocks of birds +escorted him on his way, singing and keeping him company. The little +feathered brothers and sisters had not abated in their love of the +Little Bedesman who had caressed and blessed them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Burning of Abbot Spiridion +</H3> + +<P> +Many wonderful things are told of the Abbot Spiridion, who lived a +hundred years and four and yet grew never old; neither was the +brightness of his eyes dimmed nor his hair silvered, nor was his frame +bowed and palsied with the weakness of age. +</P> + +<P> +During the long years in which he ruled the abbey he had founded, he +seemed to live less in this world than in the communion of the blessed +souls of men redeemed. The whole earth was as clear to him as though +it had been of crystal, and when he raised his eyes he saw not solely +what other men saw, but the vision of all that is under the heavens. +And this vision of life was at once his trial and his consolation. For +it was an unspeakable sorrow and anguish to see on all sides the sin +and suffering and misery of creation, and often he wept bitterly when +no one dared ask him the reason of his affliction. Yet oftentimes, on +the other hand, he laughed for lightness of spirit, and bade the +brethren rejoice because of the salvation of some reprobate soul, or +the relief of one oppressed, or the bestowal of some blessing on the +servants of God. +</P> + +<P> +When it happened that a brother had been sent on a journey and was long +absent, and the community was talking of him, wondering how he had +fared and where he might now be, the Abbot would sometimes break +silence and say: "I see our brother resting in such or such a cell," or +"Our brother is even now singing a psalm as he drifts in his small boat +of skins down this or that river," or, perchance, "Our brother is +coming over the hill and in an hour he will be with us." +</P> + +<P> +In the abbey there was a certain lay-brother, dull and slow of wit, +with a hindrance in his speech; and one of the monks despised him and +scoffed at his defect of nature. This lay-brother had the care of the +garden of pot-herbs and fruit-trees, and as he was toiling there one +day the Abbot called the uncharitable monk to him, and said: "Come, let +us see what our brother the Fool is doing." +</P> + +<P> +The monk trembled when he heard those words, for he knew that his +scornfulness had been discovered, and he followed the Abbot in great +confusion. In the garden they found the lay-brother planting cabbages. +</P> + +<P> +"Is our brother the Fool alone?" asked the Abbot. +</P> + +<P> +"Our brother is alone, father," replied the monk. +</P> + +<P> +Then the Abbot touched the monk's eyes, and straightway he saw that the +lay-brother was not alone: beside him were two radiant child-angels, +one of whom held for him a basket containing the young plants, and the +second walked to and fro playing on a lute to lighten his labour. +Then, overwhelmed with shame, the monk fell on his knees, confessing +his sin and promising amendment. +</P> + +<P> +More strange than this is the story I have now to tell. It happened +through mischance that fire broke out in the abbey, and the flames were +spreading so fiercely from one wattled cell to another that there was +great danger of the whole monastery being destroyed. With piteous +cries the religious surrounded the Abbot, and besought him to intercede +with God that their home might be spared. +</P> + +<P> +Spiridion gently shook his head. "The mercy of God," he replied, "has +given it to another to intercede for us in our danger this day. The +holy Pontiff, Gregory, has looked out of Rome and seen us in our +trouble. At this moment he is kneeling in prayer for us, and his +supplication on our behalf will avail." +</P> + +<P> +Even while Spiridion was speaking, the Pope, far away in the Golden +City, beheld the flames rising from the abbey, and called his household +to join him in entreating heaven; and at once it was seen that the +flames were being beaten to the ground and extinguished as though +invisible hands were beating them down with invisible branches of trees. +</P> + +<P> +Now when the brethren were made aware that the whole earth was being +constantly shown thus in vision to the Abbot, they stood in sad dread +of him; even the most pure and lowly-hearted were abashed at this +thought that perchance every act and every vain fancy of theirs was +laid bare to his knowledge. So it came to pass that out of shame and +fear their hearts were little by little estranged from him. +</P> + +<P> +The Abbot was not slow to perceive the change, and he spoke of it when +they met in chapter. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly it is a grievous and a terrible thing," he said, "that any man +should see with the eyes of the soul more than it is given the eye of +flesh to see; and I pray you, brethren, beseech the Lord, if it be His +will, that the vision be withdrawn from me. But if His will it be not, +beseech Him that I may not sin through seeing. So much for myself, but +as for you, dear children, why are you grieved? Because it may be that +I see you when you think no man sees you? Am I then the only one who +sees you? Is there not at least one other—even the high God, from +whom the hidden man of the heart is nowise hidden? If you fear His +holy eyes, little need you fear the eyes of any sinful man." +</P> + +<P> +Such a one was the Abbot Spiridion. His spirit passed from among men +in the hundred and fifth year of his exile, in the third month of the +year, on the morning of the resurrection of the Lord Christ, between +the white and the red of the morning, when the brethren were singing +prime. As he listened to them singing, his cheeks suddenly became +flushed with bright colour, and those who were about him, thinking he +was in pain, asked if in any way they might relieve him; but he replied +in a low voice, "When the heart is glad the face flowers." In a little +after that he laughed softly to himself, and so they knew that his end +was gladness. +</P> + +<P> +When he died there were three hundred religious in that monastery, and +in his stead Samson was made Abbot of Gracedieu. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The body of Spiridion was laid in a stone coffin hard by the abbey +church, and to those who had known the holy man it seemed nothing +strange that the sick and afflicted should come and kneel by his grave, +in the hope that by his intercession they might obtain succour in their +misery. Certain it is that the blind were restored to sight, and the +sick to health, and the painful to great ease; and the fame of these +miracles was noised abroad in the world till thousands came in +pilgrimage to the spot, and costly gifts—gold and silver and jewels, +sheep and cattle, wine and corn, and even charters of large demesnes, +fruitful fields and woods and waters—were bestowed as thank-offerings +to the saintly man. +</P> + +<P> +Then over his tomb rose a vast and beautiful minster, and the tomb +itself was covered with a shrine, brilliant with blue and vermilion and +gold and sculptured flowers, and guarded by angels with outspreading +wings. +</P> + +<P> +At the beginning Abbot Samson was well pleased, for the great church +rose like a dream of heaven, but when he perceived that the constant +concourse of people was destroying the hushed contemplation and piety +of the house, and that the brethren were distracted with eagerness for +gain and luxury and the pride of life, he resolved to make an end. +Wherefore after High Mass on the Feast of All Saints he bade the +religious walk in procession to the splendid shrine, and there the +Abbot, with the shepherd's staff of rule in his hand, struck thrice on +the stone coffin, and three times he called aloud: "Spiridion! +Spiridion! Spiridion!" and begged him, as he had been founder and +first father of that monastery, to listen to the grievance which had +befallen them in consequence of the miracles he had wrought from his +grave. +</P> + +<P> +And after an indignant recital of their loss of humility, of their +lukewarmness, of their desire for excitement and the pageants of the +world, of their lust for buildings of stone and pillared walks and +plentiful living, he concluded: "Make, then, we beseech thee, no sign +from thy sepulchre. Let life and death, and joy and sorrow, and +blindness and disease, and all the vicissitudes of this world follow +their natural courses. Do not thou, out of compassion for thy +fellow-man, interpose in the lawful succession of things. This is what +we ask of thee, expecting it of thy love. But if it be that thou deny +us, solemnly we declare unto thee, by the obedience which once we owed +thee, we shall unearth thy bones and cast them forth from amongst us." +</P> + +<P> +Now whether it was that for some high purpose God delayed the answer to +that prayer, or whether it was the folly and superstition of men which +gave to things natural the likeness of the miraculous, and even +peradventure the folk lied out of a mistaken zeal for the glory of the +saints, there was no abatement of the wonders wrought at Spiridion's +tomb; and when the Abbot would have forbidden access to the vast crowds +of pilgrims, the people resisted with angry violence and threatened +fire and bloodshed. +</P> + +<P> +So Samson summoned the wisest and holiest of the brotherhood, and took +them into counsel. +</P> + +<P> +"This thing," said he, "cannot be of God, that one of His saints, the +founder of this house, should lead into sloth and luxury the children +of the house he has founded. Sooner could I believe that this is a +malignant snare of the most Evil One, who heals the bodily ailments of +a few that he may wreck the immortal souls of many." +</P> + +<P> +Then arose Dom Walaric, the most aged of the monks, and said: "Already, +Father Abbot, hast thou spoken judgment. Grievously shall I lament +what must be done; but in one way only can we root out this corruption. +Let the bones of the holy man be unearthed and cast forth. He in the +high heavens will know that we do not use him despitefully, but that of +two evils this, indeed, is scarcely to be spoken of as an evil." +</P> + +<P> +Wherefore, in a grassy bay of the land by the river a great pile of +faggots was reared, dry and quick for the touch of flame. And the +Abbot broke down the shrine and opened the tomb. +</P> + +<P> +When the stone lid of the coffin had been lifted, the religious saw +that, though it had been long buried, the body showed no sign of decay. +Fresh and uncorrupted it lay in the sacred vestments; youthful and +comely of face, despite a marvellous old age and years of sepulture. +</P> + +<P> +With many tears they raised what seemed rather a sleeping man than a +dead, and bore him to the river; and when they had heaped the faggots +about him, the Abbot blessed the body and the fuel, and with his own +hand set fire to the funeral pile. +</P> + +<P> +The brethren restrained not their weeping and lamentation as they +witnessed that hallowed burning; and the Abbot, with heavy eyes, +tarried till the last ember had died out. Then were all the ashes of +the fire swept together and cast into the fleeting river, which bore +them through lands remote into the utmost sea that hath no outland +limit save the blue sky and the low light of the shifting stars. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Countess Itha +</H3> + +<P> +In the days of King Coeur-de-Lion the good Count Hartmann ruled in +Kirchberg in the happy Swabian land. And never had that fair land been +happier than it was in those days, for the Count was a devout +Christian, a lover of peace in the midst of warlike and rapacious +barons, and a ruler just and merciful to his vassals. Among the green +and pleasant hills on his domain he had founded a monastery for the +monks of St. Benedict, and thither he often rode with his daughter +Itha, the delight of his heart and the light of the grim old castle of +the Kirchberg; so that, seeing the piety of her father, she grew up in +the love and fear of God, and from her gentle mother she learned to +feel a deep compassion for the poor and afflicted. +</P> + +<P> +No sweeter maid than she, with her blue eyes and light brown hair, was +there in all that land of sturdy men and nut-brown maidens. The people +loved the very earth she stood on. In their days of trouble and sorrow +she was their morning and their evening star, and they never wearied of +praising her goodness and her beauty. +</P> + +<P> +When Itha was in the bloom of her girlhood it befell that the young +Count Heinrich of the Toggenburg, journeying homeward from the famous +tournament at Cologne, heard of this peerless flower of Swabia, and +turned aside to the Castle of Kirchberg to see if perchance he might +win a good and lovely wife. He was made welcome, and no sooner had he +looked on Itha's fair and loving face, and marked with what modesty and +courtesy she bore herself, than he heard joy-bells ringing in his +heart, and said, "Now, by the blessed cross, here is the pearl of price +for me!" Promptly he wooed her with tender words, and with eyes that +spoke more than tongue could find words for, and passionate observance, +and all that renders a man pleasing to a maid. +</P> + +<P> +And Itha was not loth to be won, for the Count was young and handsome, +tall and strong, and famous for feats of arms, and a mighty +lord—master of the rich straths and valleys of the Thur River, and of +many a burgh and district in the mountains beyond; and yet, despite all +this, he, so noble and beautiful, loved her, even her, the little +Swabian maid who had never deemed herself likely to come to such honour +and happiness. Nor were the kindly father and mother ill-pleased that +so goodly a man and so mighty a lord should have their dear child. +</P> + +<P> +So in a little while the Count put on Itha's hand the ring of +betrothal, and Itha, smiling and blushing, raised it to her lips and +kissed it. "Blissful ring!" said the Count jestingly; "and yet, +dearest heart, you do well to cherish it, for it is an enchanted ring, +an old ring of which there are many strange stories." Even while he +was speaking Itha's heart misgave her, and she was aware of a feeling +of doubt and foreboding; but she looked at the ring and saw how massive +was the gold and how curiously wrought and set with rare gems, and its +brilliancy and beauty beguiled her of her foreboding, and she asked no +questions of the stories told of it or of the nature of its enchantment. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly on the betrothal followed the marriage and the leave-taking. +With tears in her eyes Itha rode away with her lord, looking back often +to the old castle and gazing farewell on the pleasant land and the +fields and villages she should not see again for, it might be, many +long years. But by her side rode the Count, ever gay and tender, and +he comforted her in her sadness, and lightened the way with loving +converse, till she put from her all her regret and longing, and made +herself happy in their love. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-185"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-185.jpg" ALT="_Itha rode away with her lord_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="381" HEIGHT="549"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 381px"> +<I>Itha rode away with her lord</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +So they journeyed through the rocks and wildwood of the Schwartzwald, +and came in view of the blue waters of the lake of Constance glittering +in the sun, and saw the vast mountain region beyond with its pine +forests, and above the forests the long blue mists on the high +pastures, and far over all, hanging like silvery summer clouds in the +blue heavens, the shining peaks of the snowy Alps. And here, at last, +they were winding down the fruitful valley of the Thur, and yonder, +perched on a rugged bluff, rose the stern walls of Castle Toggenburg, +with banners flying from the turrets, and the rocky roadway strewn with +flowers, and vassals and retainers crowding to welcome home the bride. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now, for all his tenderness and gaiety and sweetness in wooing, the +Count Heinrich was a hasty and fiery man, quickly stirred to anger and +blind rage, and in his storms of passion he was violent and cruel. Not +long after their home-coming—woe worth the while!—he flashed out ever +and anon in his hot blood at little things which ruffled his temper, +and spoke harsh words which his gentle wife found hard to bear, and +which in his better moments he sincerely repented. Very willingly she +forgave him, but though at first he would kiss and caress her, +afterwards her very forgiveness and her meekness chafed and galled his +proud spirit, so that the first magical freshness of love faded from +their life, even as the dew dries on the flower in the heat of the +morning. +</P> + +<P> +Not far from the castle, in a clearing in the woods, nestled the little +convent and chapel of Our Lady in the Meadow, and thither, attended by +one of her pages, the Countess Itha went daily to pray for her husband, +that he might conquer the violence of his wild heart, and for herself, +that she might not grow to fear him more than she loved him. In these +days of her trial, and in the worse days to come, a great consolation +it was to her to kneel in the silent chapel and pour out her +unhappiness to her whose heart had been pierced by seven swords of +sorrow. +</P> + +<P> +Time went by, and when no little angel came from the knees of God to +lighten her burden and to restrain with its small hands the headlong +passion of her husband, the Count was filled with bitterness of spirit +as he looked forward to a childless old age, and reflected that all the +fruitful straths of the Toggenburg, and the valleys and townships, +would pass away to some kinsman, and no son of his would there be to +prolong the memory of his name and greatness. When this gloomy dread +had taken possession of him, he would turn savagely on the Countess in +his fits of fury, and cry aloud: "Out of my sight! For all thy +meekness and thy praying and thy almsgiving, God knows it was an ill +day when I set eyes on that fair face of thine!" Yet this was in no +way his true thought, for in spite of his lower nature the Count loved +her, but it is ever the curse of anger in a man that it shall wreak +itself most despitefully on his nearest and best. And Itha, who had +learned this in the school of long-suffering, answered never a word, +but only prayed the more constantly and imploringly. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the train of the Countess there were two pages, Dominic, an Italian, +whom she misliked for his vanity and boldness, and Cuno, a comely +Swabian lad, who had followed her from her father's house. Most +frequently when she went to Our Lady in the Meadow she dismissed +Dominic and bade Cuno attend her, for in her distress it was some crumb +of comfort to see the face of a fellow-countryman, and to speak to him +of Kirchberg and the dear land she had left. But Dominic, seeing that +the Swabian was preferred, hated Cuno, and bore the lady scant +goodwill, and in a little set his brain to some device by which he +might vent his malice on both. This was no difficult task, for the +Count was as prone to jealousy as he was quick to wrath, and with +crafty hint and wily jest and seemingly aimless chatter the Italian +sowed the seeds of suspicion and watchfulness in his master's mind. +</P> + +<P> +Consider, then, if these were not days of heartbreak for this lady, +still so young and so beautiful, so unlovingly entreated, and so far +away from the home of her happy childhood. Yet she bore all patiently +and without complaint or murmur, only at times when she looked from +terrace or tower her gaze travelled beyond the deep pine-woods, and in +a wistful day-dream she retraced, beyond the great lake and the Black +Forest, all the long way she had ridden so joyfully with her dear +husband by her side. +</P> + +<P> +One day in the springtime, when the birds of passage had flown +northward, carrying her tears and kisses with them, she bethought her +of the rich apparel in which she had been wed, and took it from the +carved oaken coffer to sweeten in the sun. Among her jewels she came +upon her betrothal ring, and the glitter of it reminded her of what her +lord had said of its enchantment and the strange stories told of it. +"Are any of them so sad and strange as mine?" she wondered with tears +in her eyes; then kissing the ring in memory of that first kiss she had +given it, she laid it on a table in the window-bay, and busied herself +with the bridal finery; and while she was so busied she was called away +to some cares of her household, and left the chamber. +</P> + +<P> +When she returned to put away her marriage treasures, the betrothal +ring was missing. On the instant a cold fear came over her. In vain +she searched the coffer and the chamber; in vain she endeavoured to +persuade herself that she must have mislaid the jewel, or that +perchance the Count had seen it, and partly in jest and partly in +rebuke of her carelessness, had taken it. The ring had vanished, and +in spite of herself she felt that its disappearance portended some +terrible evil. Too fearful to arouse her husband's anger, she breathed +no word of her loss, and trusted to time or oblivion for a remedy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +No great while after this, as the Swabian page was rambling in the wood +near the convent, he heard a great outcry of ravens around a nest in an +ancient fir-tree, and prompted partly by curiosity to know the cause of +the disquiet, and partly by the wish to have a young raven for sport in +the winter evenings, he climbed up to the nest. Looking into the great +matted pack of twigs, heather and lamb's wool, he caught sight of a +gold ring curiously chased and set with sparkling gems; and slipping it +gleefully on his finger he descended the tree and went his way homeward +to the castle. +</P> + +<P> +A few days later when the Count by chance cast his eye on the jewel, he +recognised it at a glance for the enchanted ring of many strange +stories. The crafty lies of the Italian Dominic flashed upon him; and, +never questioning that the Countess had given the ring to her +favourite, he sprang upon Cuno as though he would strangle him. Then +in a moment he flung him aside, and in a voice of thunder cried for the +wildest steed in his stables to be brought forth. Paralysed with +fright, the luckless page was seized and bound by the heels to the tail +of the half-tame creature, which was led out beyond the drawbridge, and +pricked with daggers till it flung off the men-at-arms and dashed +screaming down the rocky ascent into the wildwood. +</P> + +<P> +Stung to madness by his jealousy, the Count rushed to the apartment of +the Countess. "False and faithless, false and faithless!" he cried in +hoarse rage, and clutching her in his iron grasp, lifted her in the air +and hurled her through the casement into the horrible abyss below. +</P> + +<P> +As she fell Itha commended her soul to God. The world seemed to reel +and swim around her; she felt as if that long lapse through space would +never have an end, and then it appeared to her as though she were +peacefully musing in her chair, and she saw the castle of Kirchberg and +the pleasant fields lying serene in the sunlight, and the happy +villages, each with its great crucifix beside its rustic church, and +men and women at labour in the fields. How long that vision lasted she +could not tell. Then as in her fall she was passing through the tops +of the trees which climbed up the lower ledges of the castle rocks, +green leafy hands caught her dress and held her a little, and strong +arms closed about her, and yielded slowly till she touched the ground; +and she knew that the touch of these was not the mere touch of +senseless things, but a contact of sweetness and power which thrilled +through her whole being. +</P> + +<P> +Falling on her knees, she thanked God for her escape, and rising again +she went into the forest, wondering whither she should betake herself +and what she should do; for now she had no husband and no home. She +left the beaten track, and plunging through the bracken, walked on till +she was tired. Then she sat down on a boulder. Among the pines it was +already dusk, and the air seemed filled with a grey mist, but this was +caused by the innumerable dry wiry twigs which fringed the lower +branches of the trees with webs of fine cordage; and when a ray of the +setting sun struck through the pine trunks, it lit up the bracken with +emerald and brightened the ruddy scales of the pine bark to red gold. +Here it was dry and sheltered, with the thick carpet of pine-needles +underfoot and the thick roof of branches overhead: and but for dread of +wild creatures she thought she might well pass the night in this place. +To-morrow she would wander further and learn how life might be +sustained in the forest. +</P> + +<P> +The last ray of sunshine died away; the deep woods began to blacken; a +cool air sighed in the high tops of the trees. It was very homeless +and lonely. She took heart, however, remembering God's goodness to +her, and placing her confidence in His care. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she perceived a glimmering of lights among the pines. Torches +they seemed, a long way off; and she thought it must be the retainers +of the Count, who, finding she had not been killed by her fall, had +sent them out to seek for her. The lights drew nearer, and she sat +very still, resigned to her fate whatsoever it might be. And yet +nearer they came, till at length by their shining she saw a great stag +with lordly antlers, and on the tines of the antlers glittered tongues +of flame. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the beautiful creature came up to her and regarded her with his +large soft brown eyes. Then he moved away a little and looked back, as +though he were bidding her follow him. She rose and walked by his +side, and he led her far through the forest, till they came to an +overhanging rock beside a brook, and there he stopped. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In this hidden nook of the mountain-forest she made her home. With +branches and stones and turf she walled in the open hollow of the rock. +In marshy places she gathered the thick spongy mosses, yellow and red, +and dried them in the sun for warmth at night in the cold weather. She +lived on roots and berries, acorns and nuts and wild fruit, and these +in their time of plenty she stored against the winter. Birds' eggs she +found in the spring; in due season the hinds, with their young, came to +her and gave her milk for many days; the wild bees provided her with +honey. With slow and painful toil she wove the cotton-grass and the +fibres of the bark of the birch, so that she should not lack for +clothing. +</P> + +<P> +In the warm summer months there was a great tranquillity and hushed joy +in this hard life. A tender magic breathed in the colour and music of +the forest, in its long pauses of windless day-dreaming, in its breezy +frolic with the sunshine. The trees and boulders were kindly; and the +turf reminded her of her mother's bosom. About her refuge the wild +flowers grew in plenty—primrose and blue gentian, yellow cinquefoil +and pink geranium, and forget-me-nots, and many more, and these looked +up at her with the happy faces of little children who were innocent and +knew no care; and over whole acres lay the bloom of the ling, and +nothing more lovely grows on earthly hills. Through breaks in the +woodland she saw afar the Alpine heights, and the bright visionary +peaks of snow floating in the blue air like glimpses of heaven. +</P> + +<P> +But it was a bitter life in the winter-tide, when the forest fretted +and moaned, and snow drifted about the shelter, and the rocks were +jagged with icicles, and the stones of the brook were glazed with cold, +and the dark came soon and lasted long. She had no fire, but, by God's +good providence, in this cruel season the great stag came to her at +dusk, and couched in the hollow of the rock beside her, and the lights +on his antlers lit up the poor house, and the glow of his body and his +pleasant breath gave her warmth. +</P> + +<P> +Here, then, dead to the world, dead to all she loved most dearly, Itha +consecrated herself body and soul to God for the rest of her earthly +years. If she suffered as the wild children of nature suffer, she was +free at least from the cares and sorrows with which men embitter each +other's existence. Here she would willingly live so long as God +willed; here she would gladly surrender her soul when He was pleased to +call it home. +</P> + +<P> +The days of her exile were many. For seventeen years she dwelt thus in +her hermitage in the forest, alone and forgotten. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Forgotten, did I say? Not wholly. The Count never forgot her. Stung +by remorse (for in his heart of hearts he could not but believe her +true and innocent), haunted by the recollection of the happiness he had +flung from him, wifeless, childless, friendless, he could find no rest +or forgetfulness except in the excitement and peril of the +battle-field. But the slaughter of men and the glory of victory were +as dust and ashes in his mouth. He had lost the joy of life, the pride +of race, the exultation of power. For one look from those sweet eyes, +over which, doubtless, the hands of some grateful peasant had laid the +earth, he would have joyfully exchanged renown and lordship, and even +life itself. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At length in the fulness of God's good time, it chanced that the Count +was hunting in a distant part of the forest, when he started from its +covert a splendid stag. Away through the open the beautiful creature +seemed to float before him, and Heinrich followed in hot chase. Across +grassy clearings and through dim vistas of pines, over brooks and among +boulders and through close underwood, the fleet quarry led him without +stop or stay, till at last it reached the hanging rock which was Itha's +cell, and there it stood at bay; and alarmed by the clatter of hoofs, a +tall pale woman, rudely clad in her poor forest garb, came to the +entrance. +</P> + +<P> +Surprised at so strange a sight, the Count drew rein and stared at the +woman. Despite the lapse of time and her pallor and emaciation, in an +instant he recognised the wife whom he believed dead, and she too +recognised the husband she had loved. +</P> + +<P> +How shall I tell of all that was said between those two by that lonely +hermitage in the depth of the forest? As in the old days, she was +eager to forgive everything; but it was in vain that the Count besought +her to return to the life which she had forgotten for so many years. +Long had she been dead and buried, so far as earthly things were +concerned. She would prefer, despite the hardness and the pain, to +spend in this peaceful spot what time was yet allotted to her, but that +she longed once more to hear the music of the holy bells, to kneel once +more before the altar of God. +</P> + +<P> +What plea could Heinrich use to shake her resolution? His shame and +remorse, even his love, held him tongue-tied. He saw that she was no +longer the meek gentle Swabian maiden who had shrunk and wept at every +hasty word and sharp glance of his. He had slain all human love in +her; nothing survived save that large charity of the Saints which binds +them to all suffering souls on the earth. +</P> + +<P> +Wofully he consented to her one wish. A simple cell was prepared for +her in the wood beside the chapel of Our Lady in the Meadow, and there +she dwelt until, in a little while, her gentle spirit was called home. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Story of the Lost Brother +</H3> + +<P> +This is the story written in the chronicle of the Priory of Kilgrimol, +which is in Amounderness. It tells of the ancient years before that +great inroad of the sea which broke down the high firs of the western +forest of Amounderness, and left behind it those tracts of sand and +shingle that are now called the Blowing Sands. In those days Oswald +the Gentle was Prior of Kilgrimol, and he beheld the inroad of the sea; +and afterwards he lived through the suffering and sorrow of the great +plague of which people now speak as the Black Death. +</P> + +<P> +Of all monks and men he was the sweetest and gentlest, and long before +he was chosen Prior, when he had charge of the youths who wished to be +monks, he never wearied of teaching them to feel and care for all God's +creatures, from the greatest to the least, and to love all God's works, +and to take a great joy even in stones and rocks, and water and earth, +and the clouds and the blue air. "For," said he, "according to the +flesh all these are in some degree our kinsfolk, and like us they come +from the hands of God. Does not Mother Church teach us this, speaking +in her prayers of God's creature of fire, and His creature of salt, and +His creature of flowers?" +</P> + +<P> +When some of the brotherhood would smile at his gentle sayings, he +would answer: "Are these things, then, so strange and childish? +Rather, was not this the way of the Lord Jesus? You have read how He +was in the wilderness forty days, tempted of Satan, and how He was with +the wild beasts? All that those words may mean we have not been +taught; but well I believe that the wild things came to Him, even as +very little children will run to a good man without any doubt of his +goodness; and that they recognised His pitifulness and His power to +help them; and that He read in their dumb pleading eyes the pain and +the travail under which the whole creation groaneth; and that He +blessed them, and gave them solace, and told them in some mysterious +way of the day of sacrifice and redemption which was drawing near." +</P> + +<P> +Once when the brethren spoke of clearing out the nests from the church +tower, because of the clamour of the daws in the morning and evening +twilight, the Novice-master—for this was Oswald's title—besought them +to remember the words of the Psalmist, King David: "The sparrow hath +found an house and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay +her young, even thine altars, O Lord of Hosts." +</P> + +<P> +As for the novices, many a legend he told them of the Saints and holy +hermits who had loved the wild creatures, and had made them companions +or had been served by them in the lonely places of the hills and +wildwood. And in this, he taught them, there was nothing strange, for +in the book of Hosea, it was written that God would make, for those who +served Him, a treaty of peace and a league of love with the beasts and +the birds of heaven and the creeping things of the earth, and in the +book of Job it was said that even the stones of the field should be in +friendship with them. +</P> + +<P> +"And this we see," he would say, "in the life of the blessed Bishop +Kieran of Saighir, who was the first Saint born in green Erinn. For he +wandered away through the land seeking the little well where he was to +found his monastery. That well was in the depths of a hoary wood, and +when he drew near it the holy bell which he carried rang clear and +bright, as it had been foretold him. So he sat down to rest under a +tree, when suddenly a wild boar rushed out of its lair against him; but +the breath of God tamed it, and the savage creature became his first +disciple, and helped him to fell small trees and to cut reeds and +willows so that he might build him a cell. After that there came from +brake and copse and dingle and earth and burrow all manner of wild +creatures; and a fox, a badger, a wolf, and a doe were among Kieran's +first brotherhood. We read, too, that for all his vows the fox made +but a crafty and gluttonous monk, and stole the Saint's leather shoes, +and fled with them to his old earth. Wherefore Kieran called the +religious together with his bell, and sent the badger to bring back the +fugitive, and when this was done the Saint rebuked the fox for an +unworthy and sinful monk, and laid penance upon him." +</P> + +<P> +When the novices laughed at this adventure, Father Oswald said: +</P> + +<P> +"These things are not matters of faith; you may believe them or not as +you will. Perhaps they did not happen in the way in which they are now +told, but if they are not altogether true, they are at least images and +symbols of truth. But this I have no doubt is true—that when the +blessed Columba was Abbot in Iona, he called one of the brethren to him +and bade him go on the third day to the western side of the island, and +sit on the sea-shore, and watch for a guest who would arrive, weary and +hungry, in the afternoon. And the guest would be a crane, beaten by +the stormy winds, and it would fall on the beach, unable to fly +further. 'And do thou,' said Columba, 'take it up with gentle hands +and carry it to the house of the guests, and tend it for three days and +three nights, and when it is refreshed it will fly up into the air, and +after scanning its path through the clouds it will return to its old +sweet home in Erinn; and if I charge thee so earnestly with this +service, it is because the guest comes from our dear land.' And the +Brother obeyed; and on the third day the crane arrived, storm-beaten +and weary, and three days later it departed. Have you not also heard +or read how our own St. Godrich at Whitby protected the four-footed +foresters, and how a great stag, which had been saved by him from the +hunters, came year after year at a certain season to visit him?" +</P> + +<P> +Many legends too he told them of birds as well as beasts, and three of +these I will mention here because they are very pleasant to listen to. +One was of St. Malo and the wren. The wren, the smallest of all birds, +laid an egg in the hood which St. Malo had hung up on a branch while he +was working in the field, and the blessed man was so gentle and loving +that he would not disturb the bird, but left his hood hanging on the +tree till the wren's brood was hatched. +</P> + +<P> +Then there was the legend of St. Meinrad, who lived in a hut made of +boughs on Mount Etzel, and had two ravens for his companions. Now it +happened that two robbers wandered near the hermitage, and foolishly +thinking that some treasure might be hidden there, they slew the Saint. +After a long search, in which they found nothing, they went down the +mountain to Zurich; but the holy man's ravens followed them with fierce +cries, whirling about their heads and dashing at their faces, so that +the people in the valley wondered at the sight. But one of the +dalesmen who knew the ravens sent his son to the hermitage to see if +all was well, and followed the fellows to the town. There they took +refuge in a tavern, but the ravens flew round and round the house, +screaming and pecking at the window near which the robbers had seated +themselves. Speedily the lad came down with the news of the cruel +murder; the robbers were seized, and, having confessed their crime, +they suffered the torture of death on the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +And lastly there was the legend of St. Servan, who had a robin which +perched on his shoulder, and fed from his hand, and joined in with +joyful twittering when the Saint sang his hymns and psalms. Now the +lads in the abbey-school were jealous of the Saint's favourite pupil, +Kentigern, and out of malice they killed the robin and threw the blame +on Kentigern. Bitterly the innocent child wept and prayed over the +dead bird; and behold! when the Saint came from singing nones in the +minster, the robin fluttered up and flew away to meet him, chirruping +merrily. +</P> + +<P> +"A thoughtless thing of little blame," said the Novice-master, "was the +wickedness of these boys compared with that of the monks of the Abbot +Eutychus. The Abbot had a bear to tend his sheep while he was absent +and to shut them in their fold at sunset, and when the monks saw that +marvel, instead of praising God they were burned up with envy and +ill-will, and they killed the bear. Ah, children, it is still possible +for us, even in these days, to kill a Saint's robin and an abbot's +bear. Let us beware of envy and jealousy and uncharitableness." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In those years when Father Oswald was thus teaching his novices +gentleness and compassion, he had but one trouble in his life, and that +was the remembrance of a companion of his youth, who had fled from the +Priory and disappeared in the noise and tumult of the world's life. As +scholars they had been class-mates, and as novices they had been so +closely drawn together that each had pledged to the other that whoever +died first should, under God's permission, appear to the one still left +alive, and reveal to his friend all that may be told of the state of +the departed. Now hardly had they been professed monks more than a +year when this brother broke his vows and deserted his habit, and fled +away under cloud of night. Oswald had never forgotten his friend, and +had never ceased to grieve and pray for him. It was the great hope and +desire of his heart that, having at last proved the vanity of all that +the world can give, this Lost Brother would one day return, like the +Prodigal Son, to the house of his boyhood. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As the years went by Prior Anselm grew old and sickened, and at length +what was mortal of him fell as the leaf that falls and is trodden in +the clay; and the Novice-master was elected Prior in his stead. +</P> + +<P> +Now one of the first great works which the new Prior set his hand to +was the making of two large fish-ponds for the monastery. "And so," +said he, "not only shall we have other than sea-fish for our table, but +in case of fire we shall have store of water at hand. Then, too, it is +a pleasant thing to look on sweet water among trees, and to watch the +many sorts of silvery fish playing in their clear and silent world. +And well it becomes our state of life that we should have this, for of +our Lord's Disciples many were fishermen, and fish and bread were the +last earthly food our dear Master ate. Now of these ponds let the +larger be our Lake of Gennesaret, and surely it shall some time happen +to us that we shall see the Lord when the bright morning has come, and +that our hearts shall be as a fire of coals upon the shore." +</P> + +<P> +Of the earth dug out of the fish pools he piled up a high mound or +barrow, and stocked it well with saplings of oak and beech, ash and +pine, and flowering bushes; and about the mound a spiral way wound to +the top, and from the top one saw to the four winds over the high woods +of Amounderness, and on the west, beyond the forest, the white sands of +the shore and the fresh sea. When the saplings grew tall and stout, +the green leaves shut out all sight of the Priory; even the tower of +the church; and above the trees in the bright air it was as though one +had got half-way to heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Now after a little while the Prior reared on the high summit a vast +cross of oak, rooted firmly amid huge boulders, and the face of our +Lord crucified was turned to the west, and His arms were opened wide to +the sea and to the passing ships. And beneath the flying sails, far +away, the mariners and fisher-folk could see the cross in the sky, and +they bared their heads to the calvary of Kilgrimol. So the name of our +house and our Christ was known in strange waters and in distant havens. +</P> + +<P> +All that climbing greenwood of the mound was alive with wild creatures, +winged and four-footed, and no one was suffered to disquiet or annoy +them. To us it seemed that the Prior was as well known to all the wild +things far and near as he was to us, for the little birds fluttered +about him, and the squirrels leaped from tree to tree along the way he +went, and the fawns ran from the covert to thrust their noses into his +hand. And in the winter time, if the snow lay deep and there was any +dearth, food was made ready for them and they came in flocks and troops +to the Priory, knowing well, one would think, that the Prior would be +their loving almoner. +</P> + +<P> +Bee-hives, too, he set up, and grew all manner of flowers, both for the +use of the little brown toilers and for the joyance of the brethren; +and of the flowers he spoke deep and beautiful parables too many to be +told of in this book. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now in the third year of his rule the Prior heard tidings of the +companion he had never forgotten, and he took into his confidence one +of the religious named Bede, in whom he had great trust, and he told +him the story of their friendship. "And now, Bede," he said, "I would +have thee go on a long journey, even to the golden city of London, and +seek out my friend. He will easily be found, for men know his name, +and he hath grown to some repute, and the good things of this world +have not been denied him. And in this I rejoice, for when he hath won +all his heart may desire, he will the sooner discover how little is the +joy and how fleeting the content. And tell him that so long as I am +Prior of this house, so long shall this house be a home waiting for his +home-coming. Bid him come to me—if but for a little while, then for a +little while be it; but if he longs for rest, this shall be the place +of his rest until the end. And if these things cannot be now, then let +them be when they may be." +</P> + +<P> +And Bede went on his long wayfaring and found the Lost Brother, a man +happy and of fair fame, and blessed with wife and child. And the monk +sat with the little maid on his knee, and even while he prayed for her +and her father, he understood how it might be that the man was well +content, and how that neither to-day nor to-morrow could he return to +that old life of the Priory in the forest. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet," said he, "tell the Prior that surely some day I shall see his +face again, if it be but for mere love of him for well I know there be +among the monks those who would more joyfully rend me or burn me at the +stake than give the hand of fellowship to one who has cast aside the +cowl." +</P> + +<P> +When he heard of these things the Prior only prayed the more earnestly +for the home-coming of his friend. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now it was in the autumn of that year, at the season when the days and +nights are of one length, that the great inroad of the sea befell. The +day had been stormy, with a brackish wind clamouring out of the sea, +and as the darkness closed in it was with us as it is with blind men +who hear and feel the more keenly because of their blindness and all +that we heard was the boom of billows breaking on the long shore and +the crying and groaning of the old oaks and high firs in the forest. +Then in the midmost of the night we were aroused by so terrible a +noise, mingled with shrieking and wailing, that we crowded to the +Prior's door. Speedily he rose, and we followed him out of doors, +wondering what disaster had happened. The moon was shining brightly; +shreds of cloud were flying across the cold sky; the air was full of +the taste of salt. +</P> + +<P> +As we gazed about us we saw that the cloisters and the garth and all +the space within the walls were crowded with wild birds—sea-fowl and +crows, pheasant and blackcock, starlings and thrushes, stonechats and +yellow-hammers, and hundreds of small winged creatures cowering for +shelter. And when the Prior bade us throw open the monastery gates, +out of the sombre gloom of the forest the scared woodlanders came +crowding, tame and panting. No one had ever realised that so many +strange creatures, in fur and pelt, housed in the green ways. Even the +names of many of them we did not know, for we had never set eyes on +them before; but among those that were within our knowledge were coneys +and hares, stoats and weasels, foxes and badgers, many deer with their +does and fawns, and one huge grey creature of savage aspect which we +took to be an old wolf. +</P> + +<P> +The Prior ordered that the gates should be left open for any fugitives +that might seek refuge, and he went among the wild beasts, calming them +with a touch of his hand and blessing them. Then there came a woman, +with a child at her bosom and a little lad clinging to her dress, but +she was so distracted with fright that she was unable to say what had +happened. +</P> + +<P> +When he had given directions for the care of all these strange guests, +the Prior climbed up the mound through the tossing trees, and when he +had reached the summit he saw to his amazement that the sea had risen +in a mighty flood and poured for miles into the forest. The huge oaks +and pines of centuries had gone down in thousands, and over their +fallen trunks and broken branches the white billows were tumbling and +leaping in clouds of spray in the moonlight. Happily the land sloped +away to the north, so that unless the wind changed and blew against us +the Priory seemed to be in no present danger. Overhead the great cross +vibrated in the storm, and the face of the Christ gazed seaward, and +the holy arms were opened wide. The sight of that divine figure filled +the Prior's heart with peace and confidence. "Whether to live or to +die," he murmured, "in Thee, O Lord, have we placed our trust." +</P> + +<P> +Such was the terrible inroad of the sea which broke the western forest +of Amounderness. For many a day the land lay in salt swamp till the +sands were blown over it and buried the fallen timber; and afterwards +the very name of Forest was forgotten, and the people called all that +part the Field-lands. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now it was in this same year that the grievous pestilence named the +Black Death raged in England; but it was not till the winter had gone +by that it reached Amounderness. Then were seen those terrible days +when ships sailed the seas with crews of dead men, and when on land +there was burying without sorrow and flight without safety, for though +many fled they could not escape the evil, and so many died that the +wells of sorrow ran dry. And because of the horror of so many deaths, +it was forbidden to toll the bells any longer lest men should go mad. +Often no hand could be got for love or for gold to touch the sick or to +carry the departed to their graves. When the graveyards were filled, +thousands were buried, without a prayer or a last look, in deep +trenches salted with quicklime, on the commons or in an open field. +Many a street in many a town fell suddenly silent and deserted, and +grass grew between the stones of the causeway. Here and there fires +were kept burning night and day to purify the air, but this availed +little. In many a thorpe and village all the inhabitants were swept +away and even robbers and desperate vagrants were too greatly in fear +of infection to enter the ownerless houses. Sometimes in the fields +one saw little children, and perchance an aged woman, trying to manage +a plough or to lead a waggon. +</P> + +<P> +When this trouble fell upon the people the Prior sent out various of +the brethren to aid the suffering and to comfort the bereaved; but when +many of the monks themselves were stricken down and died within the +hour, a great dread took hold of the others, so that they were +unwilling to expose themselves to danger. +</P> + +<P> +The Prior rebuked them for their lack of faith and the coldness of +their charity. "When the beasts and wild creatures suffered we had +compassion on them," he said; "what folly is this that we shall have +care for them and yet feel no pity for men and women in their misery! +Do you fear that you too may be taken off by this pestilence? Who, +then, has told you that you shall not die if only you can escape the +pestilence? Daily you pray, 'Thy kingdom come,' and daily you seek +that it shall not come to-day." +</P> + +<P> +He went abroad himself unweariedly with one or other of the brethren, +doing such good as he was able, and when he had returned home and taken +a little rest he set out once more. Now one night as he and Brother +Bede returned belated through the forest, they were startled as they +approached the gate to hear the weeping and moaning of one who lay +forsaken on the cold earth; and when the Prior called out through the +darkness, "Be of good cheer, Christian soul, we are coming to your +aid," the sufferer replied by rattling the lid of his clap-dish, and at +once they knew it was some poor leper who had fallen helpless by the +way. +</P> + +<P> +"Patience, brother," said the Prior; and bidding his companion open the +wicket, he lifted the wretched outcast from the ground and carried him +in his arms into the great hall. "Rest here a little," he said, "till +we can bring you light and fire and food." +</P> + +<P> +The Prior and Bede hastened to call the brethren who had charge of +these matters, but when they returned with the other monks they found +the great hall shining with a wonderful light and filled with a +marvellous fragrance of flowers, and on the seat where the leper had +been placed there lay a golden rose, but the leper himself had vanished. +</P> + +<P> +Then a great joy cast fear out of the hearts of the brotherhood, and +they laboured without ceasing in the stricken villages. Many of them +died, but it was without sorrow or repining, and the face of each was +touched with the golden rose ere he was laid to his rest. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now the pestilence of that year was stayed by a bitter winter, and snow +lay deep even in the forest, and great blocks of ice littered the shore +of the bleak sea. And in the depth of the winter, when it drew near +the Nativity, there came riding to the monastery a stranger, who asked +to see the Prior. When the Prior looked into the man's face the tears +started and ran down his own, and he opened his arms to him, and drew +him to his breast and kissed him. For this was indeed the Lost +Brother. And when he had thus given him welcome, the Prior said: "I +ask no questions; what you can tell me you shall tell when the fitting +time comes. But this is your home to have or to leave, for you are as +free as the winds of heaven." +</P> + +<P> +And the Lost Brother replied: "Wise are you no less than good. The +plague has bereft me of the child, and of the mother of the child. +More I cannot tell you now." +</P> + +<P> +Thus to the Priori great happiness the companion of his youth returned +from wandering the ways of the world. +</P> + +<P> +When the weeks passed, and still he remained a silent and solitary +stranger, the religious spoke sharply among themselves of the presence +of one who had broken vows and revelled in the joys of life, and had +been received without censure or reproof. Then the Prior, wrathful now +even on account of his gentleness, rebuked them once again: "O eyes of +stone and hearts of water, are you so slow to learn? Have you who +sheltered the wild creatures no thought for this man of much sorrow? +Have you who buried the dead no prayer and no tenderness for this soul +of the living?" +</P> + +<P> +More than once the Lost Brother seemed to awake from a dream, and spoke +of going forth again from this home or quiet, saying: "Truly this is +great peace and solace to me, but I am not of you; my thoughts are not +your thoughts, nor is yours my way of life. Indeed, though I were to +will it never so, I could not repent of what I have done. Let me go; +why should I be an offence and a stone of stumbling to those who are +righteous among you?" +</P> + +<P> +But the Prior silenced him, asking gently: "Do we distress you with any +of these things? God has His times and seasons, and will not be +hastened. At least so long as you find peace and rest here, remain +with us." +</P> + +<P> +"You are strangely wise and gentle," the Lost Brother answered. "God, +I doubt it not, has His times and seasons; but with me I know not at +all what He will do." +</P> + +<P> +It was no long while after this that the Prior fell into a grievous +illness; and when he knew that his hour was drawing nigh, he besought +the monks to bear him up to the foot of the cross on the mound. There, +as he looked far abroad into the earth over the tree-tops, he smiled +with lightness of heart and said: "If the earth be so beautiful and so +sweet, what must the delight of Paradise be?" +</P> + +<P> +And behold! a small brown squirrel came down a tree, and ran across and +nestled in the holy man's bosom, and its eyes were full of tears. The +Prior stroked and caressed it, and said: "God bless thee, little +woodlander, and may the nuts never fail thee!" +</P> + +<P> +Then, gazing up into the blue sky and the deep spaces of air above, he +murmured in a low voice, "It is a very awful and lonely way to go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so awful for you," replied the companion of his youth. "That blue +way has been beaten plain by the Lord Christ, and the Apostles, and +many holy men from the beginning." +</P> + +<P> +A long while the Prior lay musing before he spoke again, and then he +said: "I remember me of an ancient saying which I had long forgotten. +A year for the life of a—nay, I know not what any longer. But after +that it runs, And three for the life of a field; and thrice the life of +a field for the life of a hound; and thrice the life of a hound for the +life of a horse; and thrice the life of a horse for the life of a man; +and thrice the life of a man for the life of a stag; and thrice the +life of a stag for the life of an ouzel; and thrice the life of an +ouzel for the life of an eagle; and thrice the life of an eagle for the +life of a salmon; and thrice the life of a salmon for the life of a +yew; but the Lord God liveth for ever—the Lord God liveth for ever!" +</P> + +<P> +That same night the alabaster box was broken and the precious ointment +poured out. And on the Prior's breast they placed the golden rose, and +under the great red hawthorn in the midst of the cloister-garth they +laid him, O Lord, beneath the earth which is Thy footstool. +</P> + +<P> +At the same hour in which he was taken from us there was a great crying +and lamentation of the wild creatures in the forest, and the tall stags +bellowed and clashed their antlers against the gates of the monastery. +</P> + +<P> +In the place of Prior Oswald, Father Bede was made Prior. +</P> + +<P> +Whether the spirit of Prior Oswald ever returned to earth the book does +not tell, but the Lost Brother, the companion of his youth, lived in +the house of Kilgrimol to old age, and in the days of Bede's rule he +made a good end. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The King Orgulous +</H3> + +<P> +To and fro in the open cloister of Essalona walked the monk Desiderius, +musing and musing. Every now and again he stayed in his paces to feed +a tall white stork and two of her young, which stood on the parapet +between the pillars of the cloister; and though for the most part his +dole went to the storklings, the mother was well content with his +stroking of her head and soft white backfeathers. +</P> + +<P> +Then he resumed his slow walk, turning over and over in his perplexed +mind the questions of grace and nature, and praying for light in the +obscure ways where reason groped darkling. Meanwhile the storks stood +grave and patient, as if they too had matter for deep musing. +</P> + +<P> +As in this day, so in the ancient time the convent of Essalona was +perched on a beetling crag on the northern side of the Sarras +mountains. There the mighty ridge, with its belts of virgin pinewood +and its stony knolls and pastoral glens, breaks off suddenly in a +precipitous escarpment; and, a thousand feet below, the land is an +immense green plain, sweeping away to the blue limits of the north. It +is as though the sea had once on a time run up to the mountain wall and +torn down the tawny rocks for sand and shingle, and had then drawn back +into the north, leaving the good acres to grow green in the sun. +Through the plain winds a river, bright and slow; in many places the +fruitful level is ruffled with thicket and coppice; and among the far +fields the white walls of farms and hamlets glitter amid their boskage. +When the clear sunlight fell on that still expanse of quiet earth, one +might see, in those days, the stone towers and sparkling pinnacles of +the royal city of Sarras, with a soft blue feather of smoke floating +over it. +</P> + +<P> +Often had Desiderius let his eyes rest on the smoulder and gleam of +that busy city, which was all so hushed and dreamlike in the distance, +little thinking the while that one day he should dwell within its +walls, and play a strange part in the deeds that men remember. +</P> + +<P> +From the brink of the escarpment rises the rock of Essalona, and the +convent is built on the edge of the rock, in such sort that, leaning +over the parapet of the open cloister, Desiderius might have dropped a +pebble sheer down to the plain below. A single path wound up the rock +to the gate, so narrow and steep that one sturdy lay-brother might have +held the way with a thresher's flail against a score of men-at-arms. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-215"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-215.jpg" ALT="_King Orgulous_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="390" HEIGHT="545"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 390px"> +<I>King Orgulous</I> +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Here, then, in this solitary house, Desiderius dwelt with five other +brethren, all good and faithful men; but he, the youngest and yet the +most learned in philosophy and star-lore and the sacred Scriptures and +the books of the wise, was the most meek and lowly of heart. No pains +did he spare his body or his spirit to master the deep knowledge of +divine things. Diligent by day, he eked out the light of the stars +with the lamp of the firefly, or conned his page by the dim shining of +the glow-worm along the lines. +</P> + +<P> +Now as he mused in the cloister he stopped short with a deep sigh, and +stood before the storks, and said: "Away, happy birds; you have leave. +Disport yourselves, soaring very high in the sunny heavens, or take +your rest on our roofs. I have appeased you with food; but to the +hunger of my soul who shall minister?" +</P> + +<P> +At his word the storks flapped their wings and rose from the parapet, +and went sailing up into the sunshine; and Desiderius heard at his +shoulder a most sweet and gracious voice saying: "What is thy hunger, +and wherein wouldst thou have me minister to thee?" +</P> + +<P> +Turning about, Desiderius saw that it was an Angel which spoke, and he +fell at the bright spirit's feet, abashed and in great dread. But the +Angel raised him up, and gave him courage, saying: "O Desiderius, most +dear to me (for I am thine Angel Guardian), do not tremble to tell me; +but speak to me even as thou wouldst speak to a man of thy brethren." +</P> + +<P> +Then said Desiderius: "Show to me and make plain, I pray thee, the +mystery of the grace of God in the heart of man." +</P> + +<P> +"Many are the mysteries of God," said the Angel, "whereof even the +highest of the Archangels may not sustain the splendour, and this is +one of them. Howbeit, if thou wilt be patient and prayerful, and wilt +repose thy trust in the Lord Christ, I will strive to show thee two +pictures of thy very self—one, to wit, of the natural Adam in +Desiderius, and one of the man redeemed by the blood shed for thee. So +in some wise shalt thou come to some dim light of this mystery of grace +divine. Will that suffice thee?" +</P> + +<P> +"That, Lord Angel, will suffice," said the monk, bowing low before the +Angel. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait, then, and watch; and even in thy body and before thou diest thou +shalt behold as I have said." +</P> + +<P> +Therewith the Angel left him, and Desiderius was aware of but the walls +and pillars of the cloister, and the bright vast plain, and, far away, +the city of Sarras glittering, and the smoke sleeping like a small blue +cloud above it. And the coming and going of the Angel was after this +manner. Desiderius perceived him, bright in the brightness of the +sunshine, as one perceives a morsel of clear ice floating in clear +water; and when Desiderius saw him no more it was as though the clear +ice had melted into the clear water. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now after the lapse of three short years, and when he was but in his +thirtieth summer, Desiderius was summoned from his cell on the lonely +mountain, and, despite his tears and supplications and his +protestations of ignorance and inexperience and extreme youth, made +Archbishop of Sarras. Only one answer was vouchsafed to him. "One of +thy vows was entire obedience, and the grace of God is sufficient for +thee." +</P> + +<P> +In that same year a horde of the fierce Avars poured out from the round +green earth-walls of their mysterious stronghold, which lay beyond +Danube, and, crossing the river, fell on Sarras; and clashing with that +ravening horde, Astulf the King of Sarras was slain. +</P> + +<P> +Ill had it then fared with the folk of Sarras, city and plain alike, +but for a certain Talisso, a free-rider, who from a green knoll had +watched the onset. When he saw the slaying of the King, he plunged +into the battle, cleaving his way through the ranks of squat and +swarthy Avars; and heartening the men of Sarras with his ringing cheer +and battle-laughter, shaped them into wedges of sharp iron and drove +them home through the knotted wood of their foemen, till the Avars fled +hot-foot to Danube water, and through the water, and beyond, and so +reached the strait doorways of their earth-bound stronghold, the Hring. +</P> + +<P> +Now, seeing that the King of Sarras had left neither child nor brother +to heirship, and that their deliverer was a stalwart champion, young +and nobly statured, and handsome and gracious as he was valiant, frank +too and open-handed, and that moreover he seemed a man skilled in the +mastery of men and in affairs of rule, the fighting men of Sarras +thought that no better fortune could befall them than they should +choose this Talisso for their king. To Sarras therefore they carried +him with them on their merry home-going, and having entered the free +town, called the Council of Elders to say yea or nay. With few words +the Elders confirmed the choice, and the joy-bells were rung, and great +was the rejoicing of all men, gentle and simple, that God had sent them +so goodly a man for their ruler and bulwark. +</P> + +<P> +In a week from that the city was dight and decked for the crowning of +Talisso. Garlands were hung across the streets; windows and walls were +graced with green branches and wreaths of flowers; many-coloured +draperies, variegated carpets and webs of silk and velvet hung from +parapet and balcony; once more the joy-bells were set aswing, and amid +a proud array of nobles and elders and gaily harnessed warriors the new +King walked under a canopy of cloth of gold to the High Church. +</P> + +<P> +There in solemn splendour the new Archbishop administered to him the +kingly oath, and anointed him with the chrism of consecration, and set +the gold of power on his head, and invested him with the mantle of St. +Victor and girt about him the Saint's great iron sword set with many +jewels on the apple and the cross. As the Archbishop was completing +these ordinances, he chanced to look full into the King's face for the +first time, and as the King's eyes met his each stood still as stone +regarding the other for such a space as it would take one to count +four, telling the numbers slowly. Neither spoke, and when they who +were nearest looked to learn the cause of the stillness and the +stoppage they saw with amazement that the new King and the new +Archbishop were as like the one to the other as brothers who are twins. +With a slow and audible drawing of the breath the Archbishop took up +again the words of the ritual, and neither looked at the other any more +at that time. +</P> + +<P> +Now, having been crowned and consecrated, Talisso ascended the steps in +front of the altar, and, drawing the huge blade from its sheath, lunged +with it four times into the air—once to the north, and once to the +south, once to the east and once to the west. Sheathing the sword, he +descended, and walking to the western portal mounted his war-horse, and +paced slowly down the street, followed by a brilliant cavalcade, to the +Mound of Coronation. +</P> + +<P> +Urging his steed up the ascent, he drew rein on the summit, and once +more bared the holy brand, and, wheeling to the four quarters of +heaven, thrust it into the air in token of lordship and power +inalienable; and when he rode down the Mound to his people a great cry +was raised in greeting, and four pigeons were loosed. High they flew +in circles overhead, and, each choosing his own airt, darted out to the +four regions of the world to bear the news of that crowning. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The first years of the new reign seemed to be the dawn of a Golden Age +in the land of Sarras, and in those years no man was more beloved and +honoured by the King than was Archbishop Desiderius. As time passed +by, however, and the evil leaven of unrestrained power began to ferment +in the King's heart, and the Archbishop opposed and reproved him, +gently and tenderly at first, but ever more gravely and steadfastly, +coldness and estrangement divided them; and soon that strange +resemblance which gave them the aspect of twin brothers, became a root +of suspicion and dread in the King's mind, for he reasoned with +himself, "What more likely than that this masterful prelate should +dream of wearing the crown, he who so nearly resembles the King that +the mother of either might well pause ere she should say which was her +son? A foot of iron, and a sprinkling of earth, and farewell Talisso! +None would guess it was Desiderius who took his ease in thy chair." +</P> + +<P> +Thus by degrees limitless power waxed into lawlessness, and suspicion +and dread into moroseness and cruelty, and on this rank soil the red +weeds of lust and hate and bitter pride sprang up and choked all that +was sweet and gracious and lovable in the nature of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Then did the wise and gentle folk of Sarras come to perceive how +woefully they had been deceived in the tyrant they had crowned, and +speedily it came to pass that when they spoke of King Talisso they +breathed not his name, but using an ancient word to signify such insane +and evil pride as that of Lucifer and the Fallen Angels, they called +him the King Orgulous. Yet if this was the mind of the better folk, +there was no lack of base and venomous creatures—flatterers, +time-servers, and sycophants—to minister to his wickedness and +malignity. +</P> + +<P> +Dark were the days which now fell on Sarras, and few were those on +which some violence or injustice, some deed of lust or rapacity was not +flaunted in the face of heaven. The most noble and best men of the +city were attainted and plundered and driven into exile. Of the meaner +sort of folk many a poor citizen or rustic toiler went shaven and +branded, or maimed of nose and eyelids, or with black stumps seared +with pitch and an iron hook for hand. Once more the torture-chamber of +the castle rang with the screams of poor wretches stretched on the +rack; and the ancient instruments of pain, which had rusted through +many a long year of clemency, were once more reddened with the sweat of +human agony. +</P> + +<P> +An insatiable lust of cruelty drove the King to a sort of madness. +With a fiendish malice he fashioned of wood and iron an engine of +torment which bore the likeness of a beautiful woman, but which opened +when a spring was pressed, and showed within a hideous array of knives; +and these pierced the miserable wight about whom the Image closed her +arms. In blasphemous merriment the King called this woman of his +making Our Lady of Sorrow, and in mockery of holy things he kept a +silver lamp burning constantly before her, and crowned her with flowers. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the hour in which the King was left wholly to his wickedness, he +doomed to the Image the young wife of one of the chief men of Sarras. +Little more than a girl was she in years; sweet and exceeding lovely; +and she still suckled her first babe. +</P> + +<P> +When the tormentors would have haled her to the Image, "Forbear," she +said, "there is no need; willingly I go and cheerfully." And with a +fearless meekness she walked before them with her little babe in her +arms into the chamber of agony. +</P> + +<P> +Coming before the Image with its garland of flowers she knelt down, and +prayed to the Virgin Mother of our Lord, and commended her soul and the +soul of her dear babe to our Lady and her divine Son; and the babe +stretched out its little hands to the Image, cooing and babbling in its +innocence. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as though this were a spectacle to make the very stones shriek +and to move the timber of the rack and the iron of the axe to human +tenderness, the Image stepped down from its pedestal, and lifted up +mother and child, and a wondrous light and fragrance filled the stone +vault, and the tormentors fled, stricken with a mad terror. +</P> + +<P> +Down from the castle and through the streets of the hushed and weeping +city the Image led the mother and her babe to their own door, and when +they had entered the house, and the people stood by sobbing and +praying, the Image burst into flames, and on the spot where it stood +there remained a little heap of ashes when that burning was done. +</P> + +<P> +Judge if the land of Sarras was silent after this day of divine +interposition. Hastily summoning the Bishops of the realm, and +gathering a body of men-at-arms, the Archbishop Desiderius proclaimed +from the Jesus altar of the High Church the deposition of the King +Orgulous. Talisso was seized and stripped of his royal robes; a width +of sackcloth was wrapped about his body, and with a rope round his neck +he was led to the Mound of Coronation. There, on the height whereon he +had thrust his sword into the four regions of heaven, he received his +sentence. +</P> + +<P> +Standing erect in a circle on the top of the Mound the nine Bishops of +the realm held each a lighted torch in his hand. In the centre stood +Desiderius beside the King deposed, and holding high his torch uttered +the anathema which was to sever all bonds of plighted troth and loyalty +and service, and to cast him forth from the pale of Holy Church, and to +debar him from the common charity of all Christian people. At that +moment the Bishops marked with awe the strange resemblance between +Desiderius and the King, and the eyes of these two met, and each was +aware how marvellously like to himself was the other. But with a clear +unfaltering voice the Archbishop cried aloud the doom: +</P> + +<P> +"May he be outcast from the grace of heaven and the gladness of earth. +May the stones betray him, and the trees of the forest be leagued +against him. In want or in sickness may no hand help him. Accursed +may he be in his house and in his fields, in the water of the streams +and in the fruits of the earth. Accursed be all things that are his, +from the cock that crows to awaken him to the dog that barks to welcome +him. May his death be the death of Pilate and of Judas the betrayer. +May no earth be laid on the earth that was he. May the light of his +life be extinguished thus!" +</P> + +<P> +And the Archbishop cast down his torch and trampled it into blackness; +and crying "Amen, amen, amen!" the Bishops threw down their torches and +trod them under foot and crushed out every spark of fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Begone," said the Archbishop, "thou art banned and banished. If +within three days thy feet be found on the earth of Sarras, thou shalt +hang from the nearest tree." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke the great bell of the High Church began to toll as for one +whose spirit has passed away. At the sound Talisso started; then +taking the rope from his neck and flinging it on the ground with a +mocking laugh, he turned and fled down the Mound and into the green +fields that lie to the north. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Not far had he fled into the open country before the recklessness of +the reiver and strong-thief fell on Talisso. Entering a homestead he +smote down the master, and got himself clothing and food and weapons, +and seizing a horse, pushed on apace till he came to the red field +where he had routed the Avars, and thence onward to Danube water. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond Danube, some days' riding into the north, lay that mysterious +stronghold, the Hring, the camp-city of the Avar robber-horde. And +thither Talisso was now speeding, for he said to himself: "They are +raiders and slayers, and this kind is quick to know a <I>man</I>. They will +love me none the less that I have stricken and chased them. Rather +will they follow me and avenge me, if not for my sake for the sake of +the fat fields and rich towns of Sarras." +</P> + +<P> +Now the stronghold was a marvel in the manner of its contrivance, and +in its size and strength; for it was bulwarked with seven rings, each +twenty feet high and twenty feet wide, and the rings were made of +stockades of oak and beech and pine trunks, filled in with stones and +earth, and covered atop with turf and thick bushes. The distance +across the outer ring was thirty miles, and between each ring and the +one within it there were villages and farms in cry of each other, and +each ring was pierced by narrow gateways well guarded. In the midst of +the innermost ring were the tent of the Chagan or Great Chief, and the +House of the Golden Hoard. Piled high were the chambers of that house +with the enormous treasure of a century of raiding—silken tissues and +royal apparel and gorgeous arms, great vases and heavy plate of gold +and silver, spoil of jewels and precious stones, leather sacks of +coined money, the bribes and tribute of Greece and Rome, and I know not +what else of rare and costly. Long afterwards, when the Avars were +broken and the Hring thrown down, that hoard filled fifteen great +waggons drawn each by four oxen. +</P> + +<P> +In the very manner in which Talisso had forecast it, so it fell out +with him at the Hring. The fierce, swart, broad-shouldered dwarfs with +the almond eyes and woven pigtails gazed with glee and admiration on +the tall and comely warrior who had swept them before his sword-edge; +and when he spoke of the rich markets and goodly houses and fruitful +land of Sarras their eyes glistened, and they swore by fire and water +and the four winds to avenge his wrongs. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Little need is there to linger in telling of a swift matter. Mounted +on their nimble and hardy ponies, the Avars dashed into Sarras land two +hundred strong, and tarried neither to slay nor spoil, but outsped the +fleet feet or rumour, till in the grey glimmer of cock-crow they +sighted the towers of Sarras city. Under cover of a wood they rested +till the gates were flung wide for the early market folk. Who then but +Talisso laughed his fierce and orgulous laugh as he rode at their head +and they all hurled through the gates, and, clattering up the empty +street, carried the castle out of hand? +</P> + +<P> +Not a blow was struck, no drop of blood reddened iron or stone; and +such divinity doth hedge even a wicked king dethroned that when the +guards saw the tyrant once more ascending the steps of power they +lowered their points and stood at a loss how to act. But Talisso, with +some touch of his pristine graciousness, bade no man flee or fear who +was willing to return to his allegiance. "First, however, of all +things, bring me hither the Archbishop; bring with ropes and horses if +need be; but see that not a hair of his head be injured." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Now on this same night that these Hunnish folk were pressing forward to +Sarras city Desiderius saw in a dream Talisso standing before the +throne of God. On his head he wore his crown, but otherwise he was but +such as he stood for sentence on the Mound of Coronation, to wit, with +a rope around his neck, and naked save for the fold of sackcloth about +his loins. +</P> + +<P> +Beside him stood an Angel, and the Angel was speaking: "All the lusts +of the flesh, and all the lusts of the eyes, and all the lusts of the +will, and the pride of life this man hath gratified and glutted to +surfeiting, yet is he as restless as the sea and as insatiable as the +grave. Speak, man, is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +And Talisso answered, with a peal of orgulous laughter: "Restless as +the sea; insatiable as the grave." +</P> + +<P> +"How then, Lord," said the Angel, "shall this man's unrest and hunger +be stayed?" +</P> + +<P> +God spoke and said: "Fill his mouth with dust." +</P> + +<P> +Then the Angel took a handful of dust and said to Talisso: "Open thy +mouth and eat." +</P> + +<P> +Talisso cried aloud, "I will not eat." +</P> + +<P> +"Open thy mouth," said the Angel sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"My mouth I will not open," replied Talisso. +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the Angel caught him by the hair, and plucked his head +backward till his throat made a knotted white ridge above the neck, and +as Talisso opened his mouth, shrieking blasphemies and laughing with +frantic rage, the Angel filled it with dust. +</P> + +<P> +Talisso fell backwards, thrusting with his feet and thrashing the +ground with his hands; his crown fell from his head and rolled away; +his face grew set and white; and then he lay straight and rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"Hast thou filled his mouth?" +</P> + +<P> +"His mouth, Lord, is filled," the Angel answered. +</P> + +<P> +This was the dream of Desiderius. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When citizens came running to the palace, and the Archbishop learned +how the gates had been surprised and the castle taken, he lost no time +in casting about what he should do. He sent messengers to summon the +Council of the Elders, and bade his men-at-arms fall into array. Then +he hastened to the High Church, and, after a brief prayer before the +altar, girt on the great sword of St. Victor, threw over his purple +cassock the white mantle of the Saint, and putting on his head a winged +helm of iron, made his way to the castle where Talisso awaited his +capture. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay you here," he said to his men-at-arms when they reached the +portals, "and if by God's blessing work fall to your hands to do, do it +doughtily and with right good will." +</P> + +<P> +Up the high hall of the castle, through the groups of lounging Avars he +went, with great strides and eyes burning, to the dais where Talisso +sat apart in the royal chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! well met, Lord Archbishop," cried the dethroned King, springing to +his feet at the sight of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well met, Talisso," replied Desiderius in a loud voice. "With no more +ado I now tell thee that for thee there is but one end. Thy mouth must +be filled with dust." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, Desiderius flung back his mantle and drew the holy sword. +Heaving it aloft he struck mightily at Talisso. From the King's helmet +glanced the keen brand, and descending to the shoulder shore away the +plates of iron, and bit the flesh. +</P> + +<P> +Once more the great sword was swung up, for Desiderius neither heard +nor heeded the cry and rush of the Avars; but or ever the stroke could +fall Desiderius saw the Angel of Essalona by his side and felt his hand +restraining the blade; and at the same instant the figure before him, +the figure of the King Orgulous, grew dim and hazy, and wavered, and +broke like smur blown along a wooded hillside, and vanished from his +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"A little truer stroke," said the Angel, "and thou hadst slain thyself, +for of a truth the man thou wast slaying was none other than thyself; +as it is, thou art hurt more than need was"—for the shoulder of the +Archbishop was bare, and the blood streamed from it. +</P> + +<P> +Bewildered at these words, Desiderius gazed about to see if the high +hall and the Avars were but the imagery of a dream. But there in front +of him stood the dwarfish tribe, with naked brands and battle-axes. +These, when they looked on his face, raised a hoarse cry of terror, for +they too had beheld Talisso, how at a blow of the magic sword he had +fallen and perished even from the vision of men, and now they saw that +he who had slain the King was himself the King. Howling and +clamouring, they broke from the hall and fled into the street; and +there the men-at-arms did right willingly and doughtily the work which +thus came to their hands. Of that fierce and uncouth robber horde, +which rode to Sarras two hundred strong, scarce two score saw Danube +water again. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When Desiderius knew for a surety that the natural man within him was +verily that King wicked and orgulous, and understood that the sins of +that evil King were the sins he himself would have committed but for +the saving grace of God, a great awe fell upon him, and he was abashed +with a grievous dread lest the King Orgulous were not really dead and +done with, but were sleeping still, like the Kings of old legend, in +some dusky cavern of his nature, ready to awake and break forth with +sword and fire. Gladly would he have withdrawn to the solitude of the +little convent on the beetling crag, far from the temptations of power +and the splendour and tumult of life; but the same answer was given to +him now as had been given to him of old: "One of thy vows was entire +obedience, and the grace of God is sufficient for thee." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Journey of Rheinfrid +</H3> + +<P> +On the green skirts of the Forest of Arden there was a spot which the +windings of the Avon stream had almost made into an island, and here in +the olden time the half-savage herdsmen of King Ethelred kept vast +droves of the royal swine. The sunny loops of the river cut clearings +on the east and south and west, but on the north the Forest lay dense +and dark and perilous. For in those ancient days wolves still prowled +about the wattled folds of the little settlement of Wolverhampton, and +Birmingham was only the rude homestead of the Beormingas, a cluster of +beehive huts fenced round with a stockade in the depths of the woods. +</P> + +<P> +Among the swineherds of the King there was one named Eoves, and one +day, while wandering through the glades of great oaks on this edge of +the Forest, he saw three beautiful women who came towards him singing a +song more strange and sweet than he had ever heard. He told his +fellows, and the story spread far and wide. Some said that the three +beautiful women were three goddesses of the old pagan world, and +thought Eoves had acted very foolishly in not speaking to them. Others +said they might have been the Three Fates, in whose hands are the lives +of men, and the joy of their lives, and the sorrow they must endure, +and the death which is the end of their days; and they thought that +perhaps Eoves had been wise to keep silence. +</P> + +<P> +But when the holy Bishop Egwin heard the tale, he visited the place +alone, and in the first glimmer of the sunrise, when all wild creatures +are tame and the earth is most lovely to look upon, he beheld the three +beautiful women, and he saw in a moment that they were the Virgin +Mother Mary and two heavenly handmaidens. "And our Lady," he used +afterwards to say, "was more white-shining than lilies and more freshly +sprung than roses, and the savage forest was filled with the fragrance +of Paradise." +</P> + +<P> +Straightway the Bishop sent his woodmen and had the aged oaks felled +and the underwood cleared away; and on the spot where the beautiful +women had stood a fair church was built for the worship of the true +God, and around it clustered the cells of an abbey of Black Monks. In +a little while people no longer spoke of the place by its old name, but +called it Eovesholme, because of the vision of Eoves. +</P> + +<P> +Now when more than three and a half centuries had gone by, and Agelwyn +the Great-hearted was Abbot, there was a Saxon noble, young and +dissolute, who had been stricken by the Yellow Plague, and, after three +days' sickness, had been abandoned by his friends and followers in what +seemed to be his last agony. For the Yellow Plague was a sickness so +ghastly and dreadful that men called it the Yellow Death, and fled from +it as swiftly as they might. But in the dead and dark of the third +night a beautiful Child, crowned with roses and bearing in his hand a +rose, had come to the dying thane and said: "Now mayest thou see that +the best the world can give—call it by what name thou wilt and prize +it at its utmost worth—is nothing more than these: wind and smoke and +a dream and a flower. But though all have fled from thee and left thee +to die alone in grievous plight, this night thou shalt not die." +</P> + +<P> +Then he was bidden to rise on the morrow—"for strength shall be given +thee," said the Child—and travel with the sun westward till he came to +the Abbey of Egwin, and there he must tell the Abbot all that had +befallen him. +</P> + +<P> +"And the good Abbot will receive thee among his sons," said the Child; +"and after that, in a little while, thou shalt go on a journey, and +then again in a little while shalt come to me." +</P> + +<P> +On the morrow Rheinfrid the thane rose from his bed hale and strong, +but his whole nature was changed; and he made no more account of life +and of all that makes life sweet—as honour and wealth and joy and use +and the love of man and woman—than one makes of wind and smoke and a +dream and a flower; and all that he greatly desired was to undertake +the journey which had been foretold, and to see once more the Child of +the Roses. +</P> + +<P> +Westward he rode with the sun and came at nightfall to the Abbey of +Eovesholme; and there he told Agelwyn the Abbot the story of his wild +life and his sickness and the service that had been laid upon him. +</P> + +<P> +The Abbot embraced him, saying, "Son, welcome art thou to our house, +and thy home shall it be till the time comes for thy journey." +</P> + +<P> +For a whole year Rheinfrid was a novice in the house, and when the year +had gone by he took the vows. In the presence of the brotherhood he +cast himself on the pavement before the high altar, and the pall of the +dead was laid over him, and the monks sang the dirge of the dead, for +now he was indeed dying to this world. And from his head they cut the +long hair, and clothed him in the habit of a monk, and henceforth he +was done with all earthly things and was one of themselves. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely, now," he thought, "the time of my journey draws near." But +one year and a second and yet a third passed away, and there came to +him no call, and he grew wearied with waiting, and weariness begot +sullenness and discontent, and he questioned himself: "Was it not a +dream of sickness which deceived me? An illusion of pain and darkness? +Why should I waste my life within these walls?" But immediately +afterwards he was filled with remorse, and confessed his thoughts to +the Abbot. +</P> + +<P> +"Have faith and patience, my son," said Agelwyn. "Consider the many +years God waited for thee, and grew not impatient with thy delay. When +His good time comes thou shalt of a certainty set out on thy journey." +</P> + +<P> +So for a while Rheinfrid ceased to repine, and served faithfully in the +Abbey. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the years which followed, William the Norman came into these parts +and harried whole shires on account of the rebels and broken men who +haunted the great roads which ran through the Forest. Cheshire and +Shropshire, Stafford and Warwick were wasted with fire and sword. And +crowds naked and starving—townsmen and churls, men young and old, +maidens and aged crones, women with babes in their arms and little ones +at their knees—came straggling into Eovesholme, fleeing most +sorrowfully from the misery of want. +</P> + +<P> +In the little town they lay, indoors and out, and it was now that the +Abbot got himself the name of the Great-hearted. For he gave his monks +orders that all should be fed and cared for; and daily from his own +table he sent food for thirty wanderers whom he named his guests, and +daily in memory of the love of Christ he washed the feet of twelve +others, and never shrank from the unhappy lepers among them. But for +all his care the people died lamentably from grief and sickness—on no +day fewer than five or six between prime and compline; and these poor +souls were buried by the brethren. Of the little children that were +left to the mothering of the east wind, some were adopted by the canons +and priests of the Abbey church, and others by the monks. +</P> + +<P> +In his eagerness to help and solace, the Abbot even sent forth +messengers to bring in the fugitives to refuge. Now on a day that +Rheinfrid went out on this work of mercy, he met at a crossway a number +of peasants fleeing before a dozen Norman men-at-arms. He raised his +arm and called to them to make a stand, but they were too much +terrified to heed him. Then he saw that one of the soldiers had seized +by the hair a fair Saxon woman with a babe at her bosom, and with a +great cry he bade him let her go, for his blood was hot within him as +he thought of the Saxon woman who had carried him in her arms and +suckled him when he was but such a little child. But the Norman only +laughed and turned the point of his sword against the monk. +</P> + +<P> +Then awoke the long line of thanes slumbering in wild caves and dark +ways of his soul, and with a mighty drive of his fist he struck the +man-at-arms between the eyes, so that he fell like a stone. With +savage curses the knave's comrades rushed in against the monk, but +Rheinfrid caught up the Norman's sword, and with his grip on the hilt +of it his old skill in war-craft came back to him, and he carried +himself like a thane of the old Sea-wolves, and the joy of battle +danced in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Ill was it then for those marauders. One of them he clove through the +iron cap; the neck of another he severed with a sweep of the bitter +blade. +</P> + +<P> +And now that he was fighting he remembered his calling, and with a +clear voice he chanted the great psalm of the man who has sinned: +"Miserere mei Deus—Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy +loving-kindness; according unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies +blot out my transgressions." +</P> + +<P> +The strength of ten was in his body, and verse by verse he laid the +Normans low, till of the troop no more than two were left. These were +falling back before him as he pressed onward chanting his Miserere, +when a body of horsemen rode up and drew rein to watch the issue. +</P> + +<P> +"By the Splendour of God!" cried the leader, as he glanced at the woman +and scanned the number of the dead tumbled across the road, "it is a +<I>Man</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +Rheinfrid looked up at the new comer, and saw a gigantic, ruddy-faced +man of forty, clad in chain mail and wearing a circlet of gold about +his massive head. At once he felt sure that he was face to face with +the Master of England. Still he kept his sword's point raised for +another attack, and with a quiet frankness met the Conqueror's +imperious gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, monk! hast thou no fear of me?" cried William, frowning. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord King, hast thou no fear of God?" Rheinfrid retorted. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the King's haughty eyes blazed with wrath, but William +ever loved a strong man and dauntless, and he laughed gaily: "Nay, thou +hast slain enough for one day; let us cry truce, and tell me of what +house thou comest." +</P> + +<P> +So Rheinfrid spoke to the King about Eovesholme, and the Abbot, and the +harbouring of the miserable fugitives, and told the tale of his own +fighting that day. And the great Norman was well pleased, and +afterwards he gave Agelwyn the custody of Winchcombe Abbey when the +abbot of that house fell under his displeasure. As for Rheinfrid he +took the woman and her babe into the town; and many others he rescued +and succoured, but he neither slew nor smote any man thereafter. +</P> + +<P> +Now for eight long years Rheinfrid lived in the quiet of the cloister, +striving to be patient and to await God's own time; and his daily +prayer was that of the Psalmist: "How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord? +For ever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?" +</P> + +<P> +In the ninth year, after long sickness, the soul of Agelwyn passed out +of the shadow of this flesh unto the clemency of God, and shortly after +his death a weariness of well-doing and a loathing of the dull days of +prayer beset Rheinfrid; and voices of the joy of life called to him to +strip off his cowl and flee from his living tomb. +</P> + +<P> +As he knelt struggling with the temptation the little Child crowned +with roses stood beside him, looking at him with sad reproachful eyes. +"Couldst thou not be patient a little while?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"A little while!" exclaimed Rheinfrid; "see! twelve, thirteen, long +years have gone by, and is that a little while?" +</P> + +<P> +But the Child answered gravely: "An evil thing is impatience with the +delays of God, to whom one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand +years as one day." +</P> + +<P> +And Rheinfrid knew not what reply to make, and as he hesitated the +Child began to fade away. "Do not go, do not go yet," he cried; "grant +me at least one prayer—that I shall see thee again at the time I shall +have most need of thee." +</P> + +<P> +And the Child smiled and answered: "Thou shalt see me." +</P> + +<P> +And the vision disappeared, but the fragrance of the roses lingered +long in the little cell. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then was Walter the Norman made Abbot, and forthwith he began to build +a vast and beautiful minster, the fame of which should be rumoured +through all the land. Speedily he emptied the five great chests filled +with silver which Agelwyn had left, and then there set in a dearth of +timber and stone and money, but the Abbot bethought him of a device for +escaping from his difficulties. He took into his counsel the wise +monks Hereman and Rheinfrid, because they had both travelled through +many shires, and he entrusted to them the shrine containing the relics +of St. Egwin, and bade them go on a pilgrimage from one rich city to +another, making known their need, exhorting the people to charity, and +gathering gifts of all kinds for the building of the minster. So with +lay-brothers to serve them and a horse to carry the holy shrine, the +monks began their journey, and, singing joyful canticles, the +brotherhood accompanied them with cross and banners and burning tapers, +and set them well on their way beyond the river. +</P> + +<P> +Now think of Rheinfrid and Hereman traversing the wild England of those +olden times. One day they were wandering in the depths of the woods; +on another they were moving along some neglected Roman road, through +swamps and quagmires. Now they were passing hastily through the ruins +of some Saxon thorpe which had been burned by the Normans, or lodging +for the night as guests at some convent or priory, or crossing a +dangerous river-ford, or making a brief stay in a busy town to preach +and exhibit the shrine of the saint, so that the diseased and suffering +might be touched by the miraculous relics. And all along their journey +they gathered the offerings which the people brought them. +</P> + +<P> +"This, surely," thought Rheinfrid, "is the journey appointed me," and +his spirit was at last peaceful and contented. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the third week of their pilgrimage they came to a wide moor +which they had to cross. A heavy white mist lay on the lonely waste, +and they had not gone far among the heath and grey boulders before +Rheinfrid, absorbed in prayer, found himself separated from his +companions. He called aloud to them by their names, but no one +answered him. This way and that he wandered, still crying aloud, and +hoping to discover some trace of the faint path which led over the +moor. Suddenly he came to the brink of a vast chasm, the depth of +which was hidden by the mist. It was a terrible place and he thanked +God that he had not come thither in the darkness of the night. As he +gazed anxiously on all sides, wondering what he should do next, he +perceived through the vapour a tall dark figure. Approaching it, he +saw that it was a high stone cross, and he murmured gratefully, "Here I +am safe. The foot of Thy cross is an ever-lasting refuge." As he +ascended the rough granite steps, he noticed how wonderfully the cross +was sculptured, with a vine running up the shaft, and birds and small +wild creatures among the vine-leaves, and he was able to read, in the +centre, words from a famous old poem which he knew: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>Rood is my name; long ago I bore a goodly King; trembling,</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em"><I>dripping with blood.</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As he read them he became aware that some one had come out of the mist +and was standing near him. "In the darkness the danger is great," said +the stranger; "another step would have carried thee over the brink; and +none who have fallen therein have ever returned. But the wind is +rising, and this mist will speedily be lifted." +</P> + +<P> +While he was yet speaking a great draught of air drove the mist before +it, and shifted and lifted it, and rolled it like carded wool, and in +front all was clear, but the light was of an iron-grey transparency, +and Rheinfrid saw into the depths of the chasm into which he had +well-nigh fallen. +</P> + +<P> +Far down below lay the jagged ridges and ghastly abysses of a gigantic +crater, the black walls of which were so steep that it was impossible +to climb them. Smoke and steam rose in incessant puffs from the +innermost pit of the crater and trailed along the floor and about the +rocky spikes and jagged ridges. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as Rheinfrid gazed, his face grew pale, and he turned to the +stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"What are these," he asked, "men, or little statues of men, or +strangely shaped rocks?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are living men and women," said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"They seem as small as images," said Rheinfrid. +</P> + +<P> +"They are very far distant from us," replied the stranger, "although we +see them so clearly." +</P> + +<P> +"There seem to be hundreds of them standing in crowds," said Rheinfrid. +</P> + +<P> +"There are thousands and hundreds of thousands," said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"And they do not move; they are motionless as stone; they do not even +seem to breathe." +</P> + +<P> +"They are waiting," said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"Their faces are all turned upward; they are all staring in one way." +</P> + +<P> +"They are watching," said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are they watching?" asked Rheinfrid; then looking up into the +iron-grey air in the same direction as the faces of the people in the +crater; "What huge ball is that hanging in the sky above them?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is a globe of polished stone—the stone adamant, which of all +stones is the hardest." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do they gaze at it so steadfastly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not hard to say," replied the stranger. "Every hundred years a little +blue bird passes by, flying between them and the globe, and as it +passes it touches the stone with the tip of its wing. On the last day +of the hundredth year the people gather and watch with eager eyes all +day for the passing of the bird, and while they watch they do not +suffer. Now this is the last hour of the last day of the hundredth +year, and you see how they gaze." +</P> + +<P> +"But why do they watch to see the bird?" +</P> + +<P> +"Each time the bird passes it touches the stone, and every hundred +years it will thus touch it, till the stone be utterly worn away." +</P> + +<P> +"Ten thousand ages, and yet again ten thousand, and it will not have +been worn away," said Rheinfrid. "But when it has been worn away, what +then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, then," said the stranger, "Eternity will be no nearer to its end +than it is now. But see! see!" +</P> + +<P> +Rheinfrid looked, and beheld a little blue bird flash across the huge +ball of glimmering adamant, brush it with the tip of a single feather, +and dart onward. +</P> + +<P> +And down in the crater all the faces were turned away again, and the +crowd fell into such confusion as an autumn gale makes among the fallen +leaves in a spinney; and out of the innermost pit the smoke and steam +rose in clouds, till only the jagged ridges were visible; and a long +cry of a myriad voices deadened by the deep distance rose like the +terrible ghost of a cry from the abyss. +</P> + +<P> +And this was one of the Seven Cries of the World. +</P> + +<P> +For the Seven Cries of the World are these: the Cry of the Blood of +Abel, and the Cry of the Deluge of Waters, and the Cry for the +First-born of Egypt, and the Cry of the Cities of the Plain, and the +Cry of Rachel in Ramah, and the Cry in the darkness of the ninth hour, +and, more grievous than any of these, the Cry of the Doom of the Pit. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly," said Rheinfrid, shivering, "one day is as a thousand years in +the sight of the Lord." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Come with me, and I will guide thee from this place," said the +stranger. And he led the way along the brink of the gulf till they +came to a bridge, high and narrow and fragile, glittering like glass; +but when Rheinfrid touched it he perceived it was built of ice, and +beneath it ran a fierce river of fire, and they felt the heat of the +river on their faces, and the ice of the bridge was dissolving away. +</P> + +<P> +"How shall I pass this without falling?" asked Rheinfrid. +</P> + +<P> +"Follow in my steps," said the stranger, "and all will be well." +</P> + +<P> +He led the way on the slippery ice-work of the bridge, and in great +fear and doubt Rheinfrid followed; but when they reached the crown of +the arch the stranger threw aside his cloak and spread six mighty +wings, and sprang from the bridge to the peak of a high mountain far +beyond the burning river. The bridge cracked and swayed, and pieces +broke away from the icy parapet. +</P> + +<P> +With a shriek of terror Rheinfrid sank down, and called upon God to +help him. Then as he prayed he felt wings growing on his shoulders, +and a terrible eager joy and dread possessed him, for he felt the ice +of the bridge melting away, and the water of the melting ice was +splashing like rain on the river of fire, and as each drop fell a +little puff of white steam arose from the place where it fell. So, +unable to wait till the wings had grown full, he rose to his feet, and +attempted to follow the Angel. But his wings were too weak to bear +him, and he fell clinging to the bridge, which shook beneath him. +</P> + +<P> +Once more he prayed; once more his impatience urged him to rise; and +once more he fell. And the melted ice rained hissing into the river of +fire, and the quick whiffs of white vapour came up from the surface. +</P> + +<P> +Then he committed himself to God's keeping, and waited in meekness and +fortitude, saying, "Whether we live or we die we are in Thy charge," +and it seemed to him that, so long as it was God's will, it mattered +not at all what happened—whether the bridge crumbled away, dissolving +like a rainbow in the clouds, or whether his body were engulfed in the +torrent of burning. +</P> + +<P> +Then straightway, as he submitted himself thus, his wings grew large +and strong, and he felt the power of them lifting him to his feet, and +with what seemed no more than the effort of a wish he sprang from +narrow way of ice and stood beside the Angel on the mountain. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadst thou not been twice impatient in the cloister," said the Angel, +"thy wings would not have twice failed thee on the bridge. Now, look +around and see!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Who shall tell the loveliness of the land on which Rheinfrid now gazed +from the mountain? To breathe the clear shining air was in itself +beatitude. He saw angelic figures and heard the singing of angels in +the heavenly gardens glittering far below, and he longed to fly down to +their blessed companionship. Suddenly over the tree-tops of a golden +glade he descried a starry globe which shone like chrysoprase, and +round and round it a little blue bird flew joyously. And so swiftly it +flew that hardly had it gone before it had returned again. +</P> + +<P> +Rheinfrid turned to the Angel to question him, but the Angel, who was +aware of his thoughts, said, "Yes, it is the same globe, only we see it +now from the other side. Each circle that the bird makes is a hundred +years; for five hundred already have you been here, but you must now +return." +</P> + +<P> +Then the Angel touched the monk's head, and Rheinfrid closed his eyes, +and in an instant it seemed to him as though he were awaking from a +long sleep. Cold and rigid were his limbs, and as he tried to sit up +each movement made them ache. He found that he had been lying under an +aged oak. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, and a white lichen +which had overgrown them peeled off in long threads. A heavy white +beard, tangled with grey moss, covered his breast, and the hair of his +head, white and matted with green tendrils, had grown about his body. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly and painfully he moved from tree to tree till he reached a broad +road, and saw before him a bridge, and beyond the river a fair town +clustered on the higher ground. So strange a town he had never beheld +before—such a town as one sees in a foreign land, built with quaint +roofs and gables and curiously coloured. As he crossed the bridge he +met a woman who stared at him in amazement. He raised his head to +speak, but he had lost the power of utterance. The woman waited; and +at last with a feeble stammering speech he asked her the name of the +place. She shook her head and said she did not understand his words, +and with a look of pity she went on her way. +</P> + +<P> +Then down to the bridge came an urchin, and Rheinfrid repeated his +question. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Eovesholme," said the lad. +</P> + +<P> +"That cannot be," said Rheinfrid, "for it is little more than twice +seven days since I left Eovesholme, and this place is noway like the +place you name." +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, but it is Eovesholme," replied the lad, "and you are one of the +monks who used to be here before the King pulled down the Abbey." +</P> + +<P> +"Pulled down the Abbey! Hath King William pulled down the Abbey?" +Rheinfrid asked in bewilderment. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, it is bluff King Hal who has pulled the Abbey down. Come, and +you shall see." +</P> + +<P> +The lad took Rheinfrid by the hand and led him through the streets till +they came to the ruins. Only one beautiful sculptured arch was left +standing, but Rheinfrid had never seen it before. They passed through +and stood among a litter of stones, tumbled drums of pillars and +fragments of carved mouldings and capitals. Rheinfrid recognised the +spot. The land was the same, and the river, and the far hills, but +nearly all the forest had been cleared, and the Abbey had vanished. +What had happened to him and to them? +</P> + +<P> +"Hast thou where to pass the night, old father?" the lad asked. +</P> + +<P> +Rheinfrid shook his head sorrowfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will show thee a place," he said. +</P> + +<P> +And again he took Rheinfrid by the hand, and let him among the ruins +till they came to a flight of stone steps which led down into the crypt +of the minster. These they descended, and there was a dim light in the +place, and Rheinfrid's heart beat quickly, for he knew the pillars and +vaulted roofs and walls of this undercroft. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you may rest peacefully and sleep well," said the urchin; "no one +will venture here to disturb your slumber." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorrow be far from thee, little son," said Rheinfrid, speaking he +perceived that it was the Child, and that the Child's head was crowned +with roses and that he carried a rose in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +Then the aged monk sank on the cold stones of his old minster, faint +and happy, for he knew now that he had finished his journey. But the +Child touched Rheinfrid's brow with the rose he carried, and the old +man fell asleep, and all the crypt was dark. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Lighting the Lamps +</H3> + +<P> +Now that it was the cool of the day (when God walked in Paradise), and +the straggling leaves of the limes were swaying in the fresh stream of +the breeze, and the book was finished—this very book—and at last, +after many busy evenings I was free to do as I pleased, W. V. and I +slipped away on a quiet stroll before bedtime. +</P> + +<P> +It was really very late for a little girl—nearly nine o'clock; but +when one <I>is</I> a little girl a walk between sunset and dark is like a +ramble in fairyland; and after the heat of the day the air was sweet +and pleasant, and in the west there still lingered a beautiful +afterglow. +</P> + +<P> +We went a little way in the direction of the high trees of Caen Wood, +where, you know, William the Conqueror had a hunting lodge; and as we +passed under the green fringes of the rowans and the birches which +overhung the pathway, it was delightful to think that perchance over +this very ground on which we were walking the burly Master of England +may have galloped in chase of the tall deer. +</P> + +<P> +"He loved them as if he were their father," said W. V., glancing up at +me with a laugh. "My history book says that. But it wasn't very nice +to kill them if he loved them, was it, father?" +</P> + +<P> +We turned down the new road they are making. It runs quite into the +fields for some distance, and then goes sharp to the right. A pleasant +smell of hay was blowing up the road, and when we reached the angle we +saw two old stacks and the beginning of a new one; and the next field +had been mown and was dotted with haycocks. +</P> + +<P> +On the half-finished road a steam roller stood, with its tarpaulin +drawn over it for the night. In the field, along the wooden fence, +some loads of dross had been shot between the haycocks; lengths of sod +had been stripped off the soil and thrown in a heap, and planks had +been laid down for the wheelbarrows. A rake, which some haymaker had +left, stood planted in the ground, teeth uppermost; beside it a +labourer's barrow lay overturned. A few yards away a thick elderberry +bush was growing dim in the twilight, and its bunches of blossom looked +curiously white and spectral. +</P> + +<P> +I think even W. V. felt it strange to see this new road so brusquely +invading the ancient fields. I looked across the frank natural acres +(as if they were a sort of wild creature), stretching away with their +hedgerows and old trees to the blue outline of the hills on the +horizon, and wondered how much longer one might see the rose-red of +sunset showing through interlaced branches, or dark knots of coppice +silhouetted against the grey-green breadths of tranquil twilight. +</P> + +<P> +When we went a little further we caught sight among the trees of some +out-buildings of the farm. What a lost, pathetic look they had! +</P> + +<P> +Thinking of the stories in my book, it seemed to me that the scene +before me was a figure of the change which took place when the life we +know invaded and absorbed the strange mediaeval life which we know no +longer, and which it is now so difficult to realise. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Slowly the afterglow faded; when you looked carefully for a star, here +and there a little speck of gold could be found in the heavens; the +birds were all in their nests, head under wing; white and grey moths +were beginning to flutter to and fro. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly over the fields the sound of church-bells floated to us. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the Angelus, father?" asked W. V. +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear; I think it must be the ringers practising." +</P> + +<P> +"If it had been the Angelus, would St. Francis have stood still to say +the prayer?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think he would have knelt down to say it. That would be more like +St. Francis." +</P> + +<P> +"And would William the Conqueror?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no; I fancy he would have taken it for the curfew bell." +</P> + +<P> +"They do still ring the curfew bell in some places, don't they, father?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes; in several places; but, of course, they don't cover up their +fires." +</P> + +<P> +"I like to hear of those old bells; don't you, father?" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As we reached the end of the new road we saw the man lighting the lamp +there; and we watched him going quickly from one post to another, +leaving a little flower of fire wherever he stopped. All was very +quiet, and, as he went down the street, we could hear the sound of his +footsteps growing fainter and fainter in the distance. All our +streets, you must know, are lined with trees, trees both in the gardens +and on the side-walks, and the lamps glittered among the leaves and +branches like so many stars. When we passed under them we noticed how +the light tinged the foliage that was nearest with a greenish +ash-colour, almost like the undersides of aspen-leaves. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it just like a fairy village?" asked W. V. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +On our way down our own street I pointed silently to the Forest. High +over the billowy outline of the darkened tree-tops the church of the +Oak-men was clear against the weather-gleam. W. V. nodded: "I expect +all the Oak boys and girls have said, 'God bless this house from thatch +to floor,' and gone to bed long ago." Since she heard the story of the +Guardians of the Door, that has been her own favourite prayer at +bed-time. +</P> + +<P> +Thinking of the lighting of the lamps after she had been safely tucked +in, I tried to make her a little song about it. I don't think she will +like it as much as she liked the actual lighting of the lamps, but in +years to come it may remind her of that delightful spectacle. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAMPLIGHTER +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From lamp to lamp, from street to street,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">He speeds with faintlier echoing feet,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">A pause—a glint of light!</SPAN><BR> +And, lamp by lamp, with stars he marks his round.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">So Love, when least of Love we dream,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Comes in the dusk with magic gleam.</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">A pause—a touch—so slight!</SPAN><BR> +And life with clear celestial lights is crowned.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Child's Book of Saints, by William Canton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHILD'S BOOK OF SAINTS *** + +***** This file should be named 22112-h.htm or 22112-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/1/1/22112/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Child's Book of Saints + +Author: William Canton + +Illustrator: T. H. Robinson + +Release Date: July 20, 2007 [EBook #22112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHILD'S BOOK OF SAINTS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + +A Child's Book of Saints + + +by + +William Canton + + +With illustrations by + +T. H. Robinson + + + + This is fairy gold, boy; + And I will prove it so. + --Shakespeare + + + Every man I will go with thee, be thy guide + in thy most need to go by thy side. + + + + + +London + +Published by J. M. Dent & Co. + +and in New York by + +E. P. Dutton & Co. + + + + +First Edition, March 1906. + +Reprinted May 1906. + + + + +EDITOR'S NOTE. + +"A Child's Book of Saints" was first published in 1898, when Mr. Canton +had already found his audience. The book is a near successor indeed to +his "W. V.: Her Book," and to "The Invisible Playmate"; and W. V. again +acts as guardian elf and guide to this new region of the child's +earthly paradise. The Saints are here treated with a simplicity that +is almost or altogether childlike, and with an unforced imagination +which is only to be learnt by becoming as a child. And this is perhaps +why, although comparatively a new book, it has the air of something +pleasantly old, and written long ago; and thus wins its way into the +children's library of old favourite authors. + + +Mr. Canton's published works, up to January 1906, comprise:--"A Lost +Epic, and other Poems," 1887. "The Invisible Playmate: a Story of the +Unseen," 1894, 1897. "W. V., Her Book and Various Verses," 1896. "A +Child's Book of Saints," 1898, 1902. "Children's Sayings, Edited, with +a Digression on the Small People," 1900. "The True Annals of +Fairyland" (The Reign of King Herla), 1900, &c. "In Memory of W. V." +(Winifred Vida Canton), 1901. "The Comrades: Poems, Old and New," +1902. "What is the Bible Society?" 1903. "The Story of the Bible +Society," 1904. "A History of the British and Foreign Bible Society," +1904. "Little Hands and God's Book: a Sketch of the Bible Society," +1804-1904, 1905. + + + + +Contents + + + IN THE FOREST OF STONE + THE SONG OF THE MINSTER + THE PILGRIM OF A NIGHT + THE ANCIENT GODS PURSUING + THE DREAM OF THE WHITE LARK + THE HERMIT OF THE PILLAR + KENACH'S LITTLE WOMAN + GOLDEN APPLES AND ROSES RED + THE SEVEN YEARS OF SEEKING + THE GUARDIANS OF THE DOOR + ON THE SHORES OF LONGING + THE CHILDREN OF SPINALUNGA + THE SIN OF THE PRINCE BISHOP + THE LITTLE BEDESMAN OF CHRIST + THE BURNING OF ABBOT SPIRIDION + THE COUNTESS ITHA + THE STORY OF THE LOST BROTHER + THE KING ORGULOUS + THE JOURNEY OF RHEINFRID + LIGHTING THE LAMPS + + + + +List of Illustrations + + +Women lived the life of prayer and praise and austerity and miracle + +"These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched" + +Hilary wondered and mused + +A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky + +"Come not any nearer, turn thy face to the forest, + and go down" + +"I am not mad, most noble Sapricius" + +They won their long sea-way home + +"And four good Angels watch my bed, two at the foot + and two the head" + +And again in the keen November + +The eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay + +"Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful + house than this" + +St. Francis of Assisi + +Itha rode away with her lord + +King Orgulous + + + + +_A saint, whose very name I have forgotten, had a vision, in which he +saw Satan standing before the throne of God; and, listening, he heard +the evil spirit say, "Why hast Thou condemned me, who have offended +Thee but once, whilst Thou savest thousands of men who have offended +Thee many times?" God answered him, "Hast thou_ once _asked pardon of +me?"_ + +_Behold the Christian mythology! It is the dramatic truth, which has +its worth and effect independently of the literal truth, and which even +gains nothing by being fact. What matter whether the saint had or had +not heard the sublime words which I have just quoted! The great point +is to know that pardon is refused only to him who does not ask it._ + +COUNT DE MAISTRE. + + + + +A Child's Book of Saints + + +In the Forest of Stone + +Looking down the vista of trees and houses from the slope of our +garden, W. V. saw the roof and spire of the church of the Oak-men +showing well above the green huddle of the Forest. + +"It is a pretty big church, isn't it, father?" she asked, as she +pointed it out to me. + +It was a most picturesque old-fashioned church, though in my +thoughtlessness I had mistaken it for a beech and a tall poplar growing +apparently side by side; but the moment she spoke I perceived my +illusion. + +"I expect, if we were anywhere about on a Sunday morning," she +surmised, with a laugh, "we should see hundreds and hundreds of +Oak-girls and Oak-boys going in schools to service." + +"Dressed in green silk, with bronze boots and pink feathers--the +colours of the new oak-leaves, eh?" + +"Oh, father, it would be lovely!" in a burst of ecstasy. "Oughtn't we +to go and find the way to their church?" + +We might do something much less amusing. Accordingly we took the +bearings of the green spire with the skill of veteran explorers. It +lay due north, so that if we travelled by the way of the North Star we +should be certain to find it. Wheeling the Man before us, we made a +North Star track for ourselves through the underwood and over last +year's rustling beech-leaves, till Guy ceased babbling and crooning, +and dropped into a slumber, as he soon does in the fresh of the +morning. Then we had to go slowly for fear he should be wakened by the +noise of the dead wood underfoot, for, as we passed over it with wheels +and boots, it snapped and crackled like a freshly-kindled fire. It was +a relief to get at last to the soft matting of brown needles and cones +under the Needle-trees, for there we could go pretty quickly without +either jolting him or making a racket. + +We went as far as we were able that day, and we searched in glade and +lawn, in coppice and dingle, but never a trace could we find of the +sylvan minster where the Oak-people worship. As we wandered through +the Forest we came upon a number of notice boards nailed high up on the +trunks of various trees, but when W. V. discovered that these only +repeated the same stern legend: "Caution. Persons breaking, climbing +upon, or otherwise damaging," she indignantly resented this incessant +intrusion on the innocent enjoyment of free foresters. How much nicer +it would have been if there had been a hand on one of these repressive +boards, with the inscription: "This way to the North Star Church;" or, +if a caution was really necessary for some of the people who entered +the Forest, to say: "The public are requested not to disturb the Elves, +Birch-ladies, and Oak-men;" but of course the most delightful thing +would be to have a different fairy-tale written up in clear letters on +each of the boards, and a seat close by where one could rest and read +it comfortably. + +I told her there were several forests I had explored, in which +something like that was really done; only the stories were not +fairy-tales, but legends of holy men and women; and among the branches +of the trees were fixed most beautifully coloured glass pictures of +those holy people, who had all lived and died, and some of whom had +been buried, in those forests, hundreds of years ago. Most of the +forests were very ancient--older than the thrones of many kingdoms; and +men lived and delighted in them long before Columbus sailed into +unknown seas to discover America. Many, indeed, had been blown down +and destroyed by a terrible storm which swept over the world when Henry +VIII. ruled in England, and only wrecks of them now remained for any +one to see, but others, which had survived the wild weather of those +days, were as wonderful and as lovely as a dream. The tall trees in +them sent out curving branches which interlaced high overhead, shutting +out the blue sky and making a sweet and solemn dimness, and nearly all +the light that streamed in between the fair round trunks and the +arching boughs was like that of a splendid sunset, only it was there +all day long and never faded out till night fell. And in some of the +forests there were great magical roses, of a hundred brilliant colours +crowded together, and as big as the biggest cart-wheel, or bigger. + +These woods were places of happy quietude and comfort and gladness of +heart; but, instead of Oak-men, there were many Angels. + +Here and there, too, in the silent avenues, mighty warriors and saintly +abbots, and statesmen bishops, and it might be even a king or a queen, +had been buried; and over their graves there were sometimes images of +them lying carved in marble or alabaster, and sometimes there had been +built the loveliest little chapels all sculptured over with tracery of +flowers and foliage. + +"True, father?" + +"True as true, dear. Some day I shall take you to see for yourself." + + +We know a dip in a dingle where the woodcutters have left a log among +the hazels, and here, having wheeled Guy into a dappling of sunny discs +and leaf-shadows in a grassy bay, we sat down on the log, and talked in +an undertone. Our failure to find the Oak-men's church reminded me of +the old legends of lost and invisible churches, the bells of which are +heard ringing under the snow, or in the depths of the woods, or far +away in burning deserts, or fathom-deep beneath the blue sea; but the +pilgrim or the chance wayfarer who has heard the music of the bells has +never succeeded in discovering the way that leads to the lost church. +It is on the clear night of St. John's Day, the longest day of the +year, or on the last hour of Christmas Eve, that these bells are heard +pealing most sweet and clear. + +It was in this way that we came to tell Christian legends and to talk +of saints and hermits, of old abbeys and minsters, of visions and +miracles and the ministry of Angels. Guy, W. V. thought, might be +able, if only he could speak, to tell us much about heaven and the +Angels; it was so short a time since he left them. She herself had +quite forgotten, but, then--deprecatingly--it was so long and long and +long ago; "eight years, a long time for me." + +The faith and the strange vivid daydreams of the Middle Ages were a new +world into which she was being led along enchanted footpaths; quite +different from the worldly world of the "Old Romans," and of English +history; more real it seemed and more credible, for all its wonders, +than the world of elves and water-maidens. Delightful as it was, it +was scarce believable that fairies ever carried a little girl up above +the tree-tops and swung her in the air from one to another; but when +St. Catherine of Siena was a little child, and went to be a hermit in +the woods, and got terribly frightened, and lost her way, and sat down +to cry, the Angels, you know, did really and truly waft her up on their +wings and carried her to the valley of Fontebranda, which was very near +home. And when she was quite a little thing and used to say her +prayers going up to bed, the Angels would come to her and just "whip" +her right up the stairs in an instant! + +Occasionally these legends brought us to the awful brink of religious +controversies and insoluble mysteries, but, like those gentle savages +who honour the water-spirits by hanging garlands from tree to tree +across the river, W. V. could always fling a bridge of flowers over our +abysses. "Our sense," she would declare, "is nothing to God's; and +though big people have more sense than children, the sense of all the +big people in the world put together would be no sense to His." "We +are only little babies to Him; we do not understand Him at all." +Nothing seemed clearer to her than the reasonableness of one legend +which taught that though God always answers our prayers, He does not +always answer in the way we would like, but in some better way than we +know. "Yes," she observed, "He is just a dear old Father." Anything +about our Lord engrossed her imagination; and it was a frequent wish of +hers that He would come again. "Then,"--poor perplexed little mortal! +whose difficulties one could not even guess at--"we should be quite +sure of things. Miss Catherine tells us from books: He would tell us +from His memory. People would not be so cruel to Him now. Queen +Victoria would not allow any one to crucify Him." + +I don't think that W. V., in spite of her confidence in my good faith, +was quite convinced of the existence of those old forests of which I +had told her, until I explained that they were forests of stone, which, +if men did not mar them, would blossom for centuries unchanged, though +the hands that planted them had long been blown in dust about the +world. She understood all that I meant when we visited York and +Westminster, and walked through the long avenues of stone palms and +pines, with their overarching boughs, and gazed at the marvellous +rose-windows in which all the jewels of the world seemed to have been +set, and saw the colours streaming through the gorgeous lancets and +high many-lighted casements. After that it was delightful to turn over +engravings and photographs of ruined abbeys and famous old churches at +home and abroad, and to anticipate the good time when we should visit +them together, and perhaps not only descend into the crypts but go +through the curious galleries which extend over the pillars of the +nave, and even climb up to the leaded roof of the tower, or dare the +long windy staircases and ladders which mount into the spire, and so +look down on the quaint map of streets, and houses, and gardens, and +squares, hundreds of feet below. + +She liked to hear how some of those miracles of stone had been +fashioned and completed--how monks in the days of old had travelled +over the land with the relics of saints, collecting treasure of all +sorts for the expense of the work; how sometimes the people came in +hundreds dragging great oaks and loads of quarried stone, and bringing +fat hogs, beans, corn, and beer for the builders and their workmen; how +even queens carried block or beam to the masons, so that with their own +hands they might help in the glorious labour; and poor old women gave +assistance by cooking food and washing and spinning and weaving and +making and mending; how when the foundations were blessed kings and +princes and powerful barons laid each a stone, and when the choir sang +the antiphon, "And the foundations of the wall were garnished with all +manner of precious stones," they threw costly rings and jewels and +chains of gold into the trench; and how years and generations passed +away, and abbots and bishops and architects and masons and sculptors +and labourers died, but new men took their places, and still the vast +work went on, and the beautiful pile rose higher and higher into the +everlasting heavens. + +Then, too, we looked back at the vanished times when the world was all +so different from our world of to-day; and in green and fruitful spots +among the hills and on warm river-lawns and in olden cities of narrow +streets and overhanging roofs, there were countless abbeys and priories +and convents; and thousands of men and women lived the life of prayer +and praise and austerity and miracle and vision which is described in +the legends of the Saints. We lingered in the pillared cloisters where +the black-letter chronicles were written in Latin, and music was scored +and hymns were composed, and many a rare manuscript was illuminated in +crimson and blue and emerald and gold; and we looked through the fair +arches into the cloister-garth where in the green sward a grave lay +ever ready to receive the remains of the next brother who should pass +away from this little earth to the glory of Paradise. What struck W. +V. perhaps most of all was, that in some leafy places these holy houses +were so ancient that even the blackbirds and throstles had learned to +repeat some of the cadences of the church music, and in those places +the birds still continue to pipe them, though nothing now remains of +church or monastery except the name of some field or street or well, +which people continue to use out of old habit and custom. + +[Illustration: _Women lived the life of prayer and praise_] + + +It was with the thought of helping the busy little brain to realise +something of that bygone existence, with its strange modes of thought, +its unquestioning faith in the unseen and eternal, its vivid +consciousness of the veiled but constant presence of the holy and +omnipotent God, its stern self-repression and its tender charity, its +lovely ideals and haunting legends, that I told W. V. the stories in +this little book. It mattered little to her or to me that that +existence had its dark shadows contrasting with its celestial light: it +was the light that concerned us, not the shadows. + +Some of the stories were told on the log, while Guy slept in his +mail-cart in the dappled shelter of the dingle; others by a winter fire +when the days were short, and the cry of the wind in the dark made it +easy for one to believe in wolves; others in the Surrey hills, a year +ago, in a sandy hollow crowned with bloom of the ling, and famous for a +little pool where the martins alight to drink and star the mud with a +maze of claw-tracks; and yet again, others, this year,[1] under the dry +roof of the pines of Anstiebury, when the fosse of the old Briton +settlement was dripping with wet, and the woods were dim with the smoke +of rain, and the paths were red with the fallen bloom of the red +chestnuts and white with the flourish of May and brown with the catkins +of the oak, and the cuckoo, calling in Mosses Wood, was answered from +Redlands and the Warren, and the pines where we sat (snug and dry) +looked so solemn and dark that, with a little fancy, it was easy to +change the living greenwood into the forest of stone. + +As they were told, under the pressure of an insatiable listener, so +have they been written, save for such a phrase, here and there, as +slips more readily from the pen than from the tongue. + +Of the stories which were told, but which have not been written for +this book, if W. V. should question me, I shall answer in the wise +words of the Greybeard of Broce-Liande: "However hot thy thirst, and +however pleasant to assuage it, leave clear water in the well." + + + +[1] The year of the happy hills, 1898. + + + + +The Song of the Minster + +When John of Fulda became Prior of Hethholme, says the old chronicle, +he brought with him to the Abbey many rare and costly books--beautiful +illuminated missals and psalters and portions of the Old and New +Testament. And he presented rich vestments to the Minster; albs of +fine linen, and copes embroidered with flowers of gold. In the west +front he built two great arched windows filled with marvellous storied +glass. The shrine of St. Egwin he repaired at vast outlay, adorning it +with garlands in gold and silver, but the colour of the flowers was in +coloured gems, and in like fashion the little birds in the nooks of the +foliage. Stalls and benches of carved oak he placed in the choir; and +many other noble works he had wrought in his zeal for the glory of +God's house. + +In all the western land was there no more fair or stately Minster than +this of the Black Monks, with the peaceful township on one side, and on +the other the sweet meadows and the acres of wheat and barley sloping +down to the slow river, and beyond the river the clearings in the +ancient forest. + +But Thomas the Sub-prior was grieved and troubled in his mind by the +richness and the beauty of all he saw about him, and by the Prior's +eagerness to be ever adding some new work in stone, or oak, or metal, +or jewels. + +"Surely," he said to himself, "these things are unprofitable--less to +the honour of God than to the pleasure of the eye and the pride of life +and the luxury of our house! Had so much treasure not been wasted on +these vanities of bright colour and carved stone, our dole to the poor +of Christ might have been fourfold, and they filled with good things. +But now let our almoner do what best he may, I doubt not many a leper +sleeps cold, and many a poor man goes lean with hunger." + +This the Sub-prior said, not because his heart was quick with +fellowship for the poor, but because he was of a narrow and gloomy and +grudging nature, and he could conceive of no true service of God which +was not one of fasting and praying, of fear and trembling, of +joylessness and mortification. + +Now you must know that the greatest of the monks and the hermits and +the holy men were not of this kind. In their love of God they were +blithe of heart, and filled with a rare sweetness and tranquillity of +soul, and they looked on the goodly earth with deep joy, and they had a +tender care for the wild creatures of wood and water. But Thomas had +yet much to learn of the beauty of holiness. + +Often in the bleak dark hours of the night he would leave his cell and +steal into the Minster, to fling himself on the cold stones before the +high altar; and there he would remain, shivering and praying, till his +strength failed him. + +It happened one winter night, when the thoughts I have spoken of had +grown very bitter in his mind, Thomas guided his steps by the glimmer +of the sanctuary lamp to his accustomed place in the choir. Falling on +his knees, he laid himself on his face with the palms of his +outstretched hands flat on the icy pavement. And as he lay there, +taking a cruel joy in the freezing cold and the torture of his body, he +became gradually aware of a sound of far-away yet most heavenly music. + +He raised himself to his knees to listen, and to his amazement he +perceived that the whole Minster was pervaded by a faint mysterious +light, which was every instant growing brighter and clearer. And as +the light increased the music grew louder and sweeter, and he knew that +it was within the sacred walls. But it was no mortal minstrelsy. + +The strains he heard were the minglings of angelic instruments, and the +cadences of voices of unearthly loveliness. They seemed to proceed +from the choir about him, and from the nave and transept and aisles; +from the pictured windows and from the clerestory and from the vaulted +roofs. Under his knees he felt that the crypt was throbbing and +droning like a huge organ. + +Sometimes the song came from one part of the Minster, and then all the +rest of the vast building was silent; then the music was taken up, as +it were in response, in another part; and yet again voices and +instruments would blend in one indescribable volume of harmony, which +made the huge pile thrill and vibrate from roof to pavement. + +As Thomas listened, his eyes became accustomed to the celestial light +which encompassed him, and he saw--he could scarce credit his senses +that he saw--the little carved angels of the oak stalls in the choir +clashing their cymbals and playing their psalteries. + +He rose to his feet, bewildered and half terrified. At that moment the +mighty roll of unison ceased, and from many parts of the church there +came a concord of clear high voices, like a warbling of silver +trumpets, and Thomas heard the words they sang. And the words were +these-- + + _Tibi omnes Angeli._ + _To Thee all Angels cry aloud._ + +So close to him were two of these voices that Thomas looked up to the +spandrels in the choir, and he saw that it was the carved angels +leaning out of the spandrels that were singing. And as they sang the +breath came from their stone lips white and vaporous into the frosty +air. + +He trembled with awe and astonishment, but the wonder of what was +happening drew him towards the altar. The beautiful tabernacle work of +the altar screen contained a double range of niches filled with the +statues of saints and kings; and these, he saw, were singing. He +passed slowly onward with his arms outstretched, like a blind man who +does not know the way he is treading. + +The figures on the painted glass of the lancets were singing. + +The winged heads of the baby angels over the marble memorial slabs were +singing. + +The lions and griffons and mythical beasts of the finials were singing. + +The effigies of dead abbots and priors were singing on their tombs in +bay and chantry. + +The figures in the frescoes on the walls were singing. + +On the painted ceiling westward of the tower the verses of the Te Deum, +inscribed in letters of gold above the shields of kings and princes and +barons, were visible in the divine light, and the very words of these +verses were singing, like living things. + +And the breath of all these as they sang turned to a smoke as of +incense in the wintry air, and floated about the high pillars of the +Minster. + +Suddenly the music ceased, all save the deep organ-drone. + +Then Thomas heard the marvellous antiphon repeated in the bitter +darkness outside; and that music, he knew, must be the response of the +galleries of stone kings and queens, of abbots and virgin martyrs, over +the western portals, and of the monstrous gargoyles along the eaves. + +When the music ceased in the outer darkness, it was taken up again in +the interior of the Minster. + +At last there came one stupendous united cry of all the singers, and in +that cry even the organ-drone of the crypt, and the clamour of the +brute stones of pavement and pillar, of wall and roof, broke into words +articulate. And the words were these: + + _Per singulos dies, benedicimus Te._ + _Day by day: we magnify Thee,_ + _And we worship Thy name: ever world without end._ + + +As the wind of the summer changes into the sorrowful wail of the +yellowing woods, so the strains of joyous worship changed into a wail +of supplication; and as he caught the words, Thomas too raised his +voice in wild entreaty: + + _Miserere nostri, Domine, miserere nostri._ + _O Lord, have mercy upon us: have mercy upon us._ + +And then his senses failed him, and he sank to the ground in a long +swoon. + + +When he came to himself all was still, and all was dark save for the +little yellow flower of light in the sanctuary lamp. + +As he crept back to his cell he saw with unsealed eyes how churlishly +he had grudged God the glory of man's genius and the service of His +dumb creatures, the metal of the hills, and the stone of the quarry, +and the timber of the forest; for now he knew that at all seasons, and +whether men heard the music or not, the ear of God was filled by day +and by night with an everlasting song from each stone of the vast +Minster: + + _We magnify Thee,_ + _And we worship Thy name: ever world without end._ + + + + +The Pilgrim of a Night + +In the ancient days of faith the doors of the churches used to be +opened with the first glimmer of the dawn in summer, and long before +the moon had set in winter; and many a ditcher and woodcutter and +ploughman on his way to work used to enter and say a short prayer +before beginning the labour of the long day. + +Now it happened that in Spain there was a farm-labourer named Isidore, +who went daily to his early prayer, whatever the weather might be. His +fellow-workmen were slothful and careless, and they gibed and jeered at +his piety, but when they found that their mockery had no effect upon +him, they spoke spitefully of him in the hearing of the master, and +accused him of wasting in prayer the time which he should have given to +his work. + +When the farmer heard of this he was displeased, and he spoke to +Isidore and bade him remember that true and faithful service was better +than any prayer that could be uttered in words. + +"Master," replied Isidore, "what you say is true, but it is also true +that no time is ever lost in prayer. Those who pray have God to work +with them, and the ploughshare which He guides draws as goodly and +fruitful a furrow as another." + +This the master could not deny, but he resolved to keep a watch on +Isidore's comings and goings, and early on the morrow he went to the +fields. + +In the sharp air of the autumn morning he saw this one and that one of +his men sullenly following the plough behind the oxen, and taking +little joy in the work. Then, as he passed on to the rising ground, he +heard a lark carolling gaily in the grey sky, and in the hundred-acre +where Isidore was engaged he saw to his amazement not one plough but +three turning the hoary stubble into ruddy furrows. And one plough was +drawn by oxen and guided by Isidore, but the two others were drawn and +guided by Angels of heaven. + +When next the master spoke to Isidore it was not to reproach him, but +to beg that he might be remembered in his prayers. + + +Now the one great longing of Isidore's life was to visit that hallowed +and happy country beyond the sea in which our Lord lived and died for +us. He longed to gaze on the fields in which the Shepherds heard the +song of the Angels, and to know each spot named in the Gospels. All +that he could save from his earnings Isidore hoarded up, so that one +day, before he was old, he might set out on pilgrimage to the Holy +Land. It took many years to swell the leather bag in which he kept his +treasure; and each coin told of some pleasure, or comfort, or necessary +which he had denied himself. + +Now, when at length the bag was grown heavy, and it began to appear not +impossible that he might yet have his heart's desire, there came to his +door an aged pilgrim with staff and scallop-shell, who craved food and +shelter for the night. Isidore bade him welcome, and gave him such +homely fare as he might--bread and apples and cheese and thin wine, and +satisfied his hunger and thirst. + +Long they talked together of the holy places and of the joy of treading +the sacred dust that had borne the marks of the feet of Christ. Then +the pilgrim spoke of the long and weary journey he had yet to go, +begging his way from village to village (for his scrip was empty) till +he could prevail on some good mariner to give him ship-room and carry +him to the green isle of home, far away on the edge of sunset. +Thinking of those whom he had left and who might be dead before he +could return, the pilgrim wept, and his tears so moved the heart of +Isidore that he brought forth his treasure and said: + +"This have I saved in the great hope that one day I might set eyes on +what thou hast beheld, and sit on the shores of the Lake of Galilee, +and gaze on the hill of Calvary. But thy need is very great. Take it, +and hasten home (ere they be dead) to those who love thee and look for +thy coming; and if thou findest them alive bid them pray for me." + +And when they had prayed together Isidore and the pilgrim lay down to +sleep. + + +In the first sweet hours of the restful night Isidore became aware that +he was walking among strange fields on a hillside, and on the top of a +hill some distance away there were the white walls and low flat-roofed +houses of a little town; and some one was speaking to him and saying, +"These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched, and that rocky +pathway leads up the slope to Bethlehem." + +[Illustration: "_These are the fields in which the Shepherds watched_"] + +At the sound of the voice Isidore hastily looked round, and behind him +was the pilgrim, and yet he knew that it was not truly the pilgrim, but +an Angel disguised in pilgrim's weeds. And when he would have fallen +at the Angel's feet, the Angel stopped him and said, "Be not afraid; I +have been sent to show thee all the holy places that thy heart has +longed to see." + +On valley and hill and field and stream there now shone so clear and +wonderful a light that even a long way off the very flowers by the +roadside were distinctly visible. Without effort and without weariness +Isidore glided from place to place as though it were a dream. And I +cannot tell the half of what he saw, for the Angel took him to the +village where Jesus was a little child, which is called Nazareth, "the +flower-village;" and he showed him the River Jordan flowing through +dark green woods, and Hermon the high mountain, glittering with snow +(and the snow of that mountain is exceeding old), and the blue Lake of +Gennesareth, with its fishing-craft, and the busy town of Capernaum on +the great road to Damascus, and Nain where Jesus watched the little +children playing at funerals and marriages in the market-place, and the +wilderness where He was with the wild beasts, and Bethany where Lazarus +lived and died and was brought to life again (and in the fields of +Bethany Isidore gathered a bunch of wild flowers), and Jerusalem the +holy city, and Gethsemane with its aged silver-grey olive-trees, and +the hill of Calvary, where in the darkness a great cry went up to +heaven: "Why hast Thou forsaken me?" and the new tomb in the white rock +among the myrtles and rose-trees in the garden. + +There was no place that Isidore had desired to see that was denied to +him. And in all these places he saw the children's children of the +children of those who had looked on the face of the Saviour--men and +women and little ones--going to and fro in strangely coloured clothing, +in the manner of those who had sat down on the green grass and been fed +with bread and fishes. And at the thought of this Isidore wept. + +"Why dost thou weep?" the Angel asked. + +"I weep that I was not alive to look on the face of the Lord." + +Then suddenly, as though it were a dream, they were on the sea-shore, +and it was morning. And Isidore saw on the sparkling sea a fisher-ship +drifting a little way from the shore, but there was no one in it; and +on the shore a boat was aground; and half on the sand and half in the +wash of the sea there were swathes of brown nets filled with a hundred +great fish which flounced and glittered in the sun; and on the sand +there was a coal fire with fish broiling on it, and on one side of the +fire seven men--one of them kneeling and shivering in his drenched +fisher's coat--and on the other side of the fire a benign and majestic +figure, on whom the men were gazing in great joy and awe. And Isidore, +knowing that this was the Lord, gazed too at Christ standing there in +the sun. + +And this was what he beheld: a man of lofty stature and most grave and +beautiful countenance. His eyes were blue and very brilliant, his +cheeks were slightly tinged with red, and his hair was of the ruddy +golden colour of wine. From the top of his head to his ears it was +straight and without radiance; but from his ears to his shoulders and +down his back it fell in shining curls and clusters. + +Again all was suddenly changed, and Isidore and the Angel were alone. + +"Thou hast seen," said the Angel; "give me thy hand so that thou shalt +not forget." + +Isidore stretched out his hand, and the Angel opened it, and turning +the palm upward, struck it. Isidore groaned with the sharp pain of the +stroke, and sank into unconsciousness. + +When he awoke in the morning the sun was high in the heavens, and the +pilgrim had departed on his way. But the hut was filled with a +heavenly fragrance, and on his bed Isidore perceived the wild flowers +that he had plucked in the fields of Bethany--red anemones and blue +lupins and yellow marigolds, with many others more sweet and lovely +than the flowers that grew in the fields or Spain. + +"Then surely," he cried, "it was not merely a dream." + +And looking at his hand, he saw that the palm bore blue tracings such +as one sees on the arms of wanderers and seafaring men. These marks, +Isidore learned afterwards, were the Hebrew letters that spelt the name +"JERUSALEM." + +As long as he lived those letters recalled to his mind all the marvels +that had been shown him. And they did more than this, for whenever his +eyes fell on them he said, "Blessed be the promise of the Lord the +Redeemer of Israel, who hath us in His care for evermore!" + +Now these are the words of that promise: + +"_Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have +compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I +not forget thee. Behold, I have engraven thee upon the palms of my +hands._" + + + + +The Ancient Gods Pursuing + +I will now tell of Hilary and his companions, who came over the snowy +passes of the Alps, and carried the lamp of faith into the north; and +this was in the days of the ancient gods. Many of their shrines had +Hilary overturned, and broken their images, and cut down their sacred +trees, and denied their wells of healing. Wherefore terrible phantoms +pursued him in his dreams, and in the darkness, and in the haunted ways +of the woods and mountains. At one time it was the brute-god Pan, who +sought to madden him with the terror of his piping in desolate places; +at another it was the sun-god Apollo, who threatened him with fiery +arrows in the parching heat of noon; or it was Pallas Athene, who +appeared to him in visions, and shook in his face the Gorgon's head, +which turns to stone all living creatures who look on it. But the holy +Bishop made the sign of the cross of the Lord, and the right arm of +their power was broken, and their malice could not harm him. + +The holy men traversed the mountains by that Roman road which climbed +up the icy rocks and among the snowy peaks of the Mountain of Jove, and +at sundown they came to that high temple of Jove which had crowned the +pass for many centuries. The statue of the great father-god of Rome +had been hurled down the ravine into the snow-drift, and his altar had +been flung into the little wintry mere which shivers in the pass, and +his last priest had died of old age a lifetime ago; and the temple was +now but a cold harbour for merchants and soldiers and wandering men. + +Here in the freezing air the apostles rested from their journey, but in +the dead of the night Hilary was awakened by a clamour of forlorn +voices, and opening his eyes he saw the mighty father-god of Olympus +looking down upon him with angry brows, and brandishing in his hand red +flashes of lightning. In no way daunted, the Bishop sprang to his +feet, and cried in a loud voice, "In the name of Him who was crucified, +depart to your torments!" And at the sound of that cry the colossal +figure of the god wavered and broke like a mountain cloud when it +crumbles in the wind, and glimmering shapes of goddesses and nymphs +flitted past, sighing and lamenting; and the Bishop saw no longer +anything but the sharp cold stars, and the white peaks and the ridges +of the mountains. + +When they had descended and reached the green valleys, they came at +length to a great lake, blue and beautiful to look upon, and here they +sojourned for a while. It was a fair and pleasant land, but the people +were rude and barbarous, and drove them away with stones when they +would enter their hamlets. So, as they needed food, Hilary bade his +companions gather berries and wild herbs, and he himself set snares for +birds, and wove a net to cast into the lake, and made himself a raft of +pine-trees, from which he might cast it the more easily. + +One night as he floated on this raft in the starlight, he heard the +voice of the Spirit of the Peak calling to the Spirit of the Mere. And +the Spirit of the Mere answered, "Speak, I am listening." Then the +Mountain Spirit cried, "Arise, then, and come to my aid; alone I cannot +chase away these men who are driving out all the ancient gods from +their shrines in the land." The Water Spirit answered, "Of what avail +is our strength against theirs? Here on the starry waters is one whose +nets I cannot break, and whose boat I cannot overturn. Without ceasing +he prays, and never are his eyes closed in slumber." Then Hilary arose +on his raft, and raising his hand to heaven cried against the Spirit of +the Peak and the Spirit of the Mere: "In the name of Him crucified, be +silent for evermore, and leave these hills and waters to the servants +of God." And these creatures of evil were stricken dumb, and they fled +in dismay, making a great moaning and sobbing, and the dolorous sound +was as that of the wind in the pines and the water on the rocks. + +Then Hilary and his companions fared away into the north, through the +Grey Waste, which is a wild and deserted country where in the olden +time vast armies had passed with fire and sword; and now the field had +turned into wildwood and morass, and the rich townsteads were barrows +of ruins and ashes overgrown with brambles, and had been given for a +lodging to the savage beasts. The name of this waste was more terrible +than the place, for the season was sweet and gracious, and of birds and +fish and herbs and wild honey there was no dearth. They were now no +longer harassed by the phantoms of the ancient gods, or by the evil +spirits of the unblessed earth. Thus for many long leagues was their +journey made easy for them. + +Now it chanced, when they had reached the further edge of this region, +that as they went one night belated along a green riding, which in the +old time had been a spacious paved causeway between rich cities, they +heard the music of a harp, more marvellously sweet and solacing than +any mortal minstrel may make; and sweet dream-voices sighed to them +"Follow, follow!" and they felt their feet drawn as by enchantment; and +as they yielded to the magical power, a soft shining filled the dusky +air, and they saw that the ground was covered with soft deep grass and +brilliant flowers, and the trees were of the colour of gold and silver. +So in strange gladness, and feeling neither hunger nor fatigue, they +went forward through the hours of the night till the dawn, wondering +what angelic ministry was thus beguiling them of hardship and pain. +But with the first gleam of the dawn the music ceased amid mocking +laughter, the vision of lovely woodland vanished away, and in the grey +light they found themselves on the quaking green edges of a deep and +dangerous marsh. Hilary, when he saw this, groaned in spirit and said: +"O dear sons, we have deserved this befooling and misguidance, for have +we not forgotten the behest of our Master, 'Watch and pray lest ye +enter into temptation'?" + +Now when after much toilsomeness they had won clear of that foul tract +of morass and quagmire, they came upon vast herds of swine grubbing +beneath the oaks, and with them savage-looking swineherds scantily clad +in skins. Still further north they caught sight of the squalid hovels +and wood piles of charcoal burners; and still they pursued their way +till they cleared the dense forest and beheld before them a long range +of hills blue in the distant air. Towards sundown they came on a stony +moorland, rough with heather and bracken and tufts of bent; and when +there was but one long band of red light parting the distant land from +the low sky, they descried a range of thick posts standing high and +black against the red in the heavens. As they drew near, these, they +discovered, were the huge granite pillars of a great ring of stone and +of an avenue which led up to it; and in the midst of the ring was a +mighty flat stone borne up on three stout pillars, so that it looked +like a wondrous stone house of some strong folk of the beginning of +days. + +"This, too, companions," said Hilary, "is a temple of false gods. Very +ancient gods of a world gone by are these, and it may be they have been +long dead like their worshippers, and their names are no more spoken in +the world. Further we may not go this night; but on these stones we +shall put the sign of the blessed tree of our redemption, and in its +shelter shall we sleep." + +As they slept that night in the lee of the stones Hilary saw in a dream +the place wherein they lay; and the great stones, he was aware, were +not true stones of the rock, but petrified trees, and in his spirit he +knew that these trees of stone were growths of that Forbidden Tree with +the fruit of which the Serpent tempted our first mother in Paradise. +On the morrow when they rose, he strove to overthrow the huge pillars, +but to this labour their strength was not equal. + +This same day was the day of St. John, the longest in all the year, and +they travelled far, till at last in the long afternoon they arrived in +sight of a cluster of little homesteads, clay huts thatched with +bracken and fenced about with bushes of poison-thorn, and of tilled +crofts sloping down the hillside to a clear river wending through the +valley. + +As Hilary and his companions approached they saw that it was a day of +rejoicing and merry-making among the people, for they were all abroad, +feasting and drinking from great mead horns in the open air, and +shouting barbarous songs to the noise of rude instruments. When it +grew to such duskiness as there may be in a midsummer night countless +fires were lit, near at hand and far away, on the hills around; and on +the ridges above the river children ran about with blazing brands of +pine-wood, and young men and maidens gathered at the flaming beacon. +Wheels, too, wrapped round tire and spoke with straw and flax smeared +with pine-tree gum, were set alight and sent rolling down the hill to +the river, amid wild cries and clapping of hands. Some of the wheels +went awry and were stayed among the boulders; on some the flames died +out; but there were those which reached the river and plunged into the +water and were extinguished; and the owners of these last deemed +themselves fortunate in their omens, for these fiery wheels were images +of the sun in heaven, and their course to the river was the forecasting +of his prosperous journey through the year to come. + +Thus these outland people held their festival, and Hilary marvelled to +see the many fires, for he had not known that the land held so many +folk. But now when it was time for the wayfarers to cast about in +their minds how and where they should pass the night, there came to +them a stranger, a grave and seemly man clad in the manner of the +Romans, and he bowed low to them, and said: "O saintly men, the Lady +Pelagia hath heard of your coming into this land, and she knows that +you have come to teach men the new faith, for she is a great lady, +mistress of vast demesnes, and many messengers bring her tidings of all +that happens. She bids me greet you humbly and prevail on you to come +and abide this night in her house, which is but a little way from here." + +"Is your lady of Rome?" asked Hilary. + +"From Rome she came hither," said the messenger, "but aforetime she was +of Greece, and she hath great friendship for all wise and holy men." + +The wayfarers were surprised to hear of this lady, but they were +rejoiced that, after such long wandering, there was some one to welcome +them where least they had expected word of welcome, and they followed +the messenger. + +Horn lantern in hand he led them through the warm June darkness, and on +the way answered many questions as to the folk of these parts, and +their strange worship of sun and moon and wandering light of heaven; +"but in a brief while," he said, "all these heathen matters will be put +by, when you have taught them the new faith." + +Up a gloomily wooded rise he guided them, till they passed into the +radiance of a house lit with many lamps and cressets, and the house, +they saw, was of fair marble such as are the houses of the patricians +of Rome; and many beautiful slaves, lightly clad and garlanded with +roses, brought them water in silver bowls and white linen wherewith +they might cleanse themselves from the dust of their travel. + +In a little the Lady Pelagia received them and bade them welcome, and +prayed them to make her poor house their dwelling-place while they +sojourned in that waste of heathendom. Then she led them to a repast +which had been made ready for them. + +Of all the gracious and lovely women in the round of the kingdoms of +the earth none is, or hath been, or will be, more marvellous in beauty +or in sweetness of approach than this lady; and she made Hilary sit +beside her, and questioned him of the Saints in the Queen City of the +world, and of his labours and his long wanderings, and the perils +through which he and his companions had come. All the while she spoke +her starry eyes shed soft light on his face, and she leaned towards him +her lovely head and fragrant bosom, drinking in his words with a look +of longing. The companions whispered among themselves that assuredly +this was rather an Angel of Paradise than a mortal creature of the dust +of the earth, which to-day is as a flower in its desirableness and +to-morrow is blown about all the ways of men's feet. Even the good +Bishop felt his heart moved towards her with a strange tenderness, so +sweet was the thought of her youth and her beauty and her goodness and +humility. + +Sitting in this fashion at table and conversing, and the talk now +veering to this and now to that, the Lady Pelagia said: "This longest +of the days has been to me the most happy, holy fathers, for it has +brought you to the roof of a sinful woman, and you have not disdained +the service she has offered you in all lowliness of heart. A long and, +it may be, a dangerous labour lies before you, for the folk of this +land are fierce and quick to violence; but here you may ever refresh +yourselves from toil and take your rest, free from danger. No loving +offices or lowly observance, no, nor ought you desire is there that you +may not have for the asking--or without the asking, if it be given me +to know your wish unspoken." + +Hilary and the brethren bowed low at these gracious words, and thought +within themselves: Of a truth this may be a woman, but she is no less +an Angel for our strength and solacement. + +"In the days to come," said the lady, "there will be many things to ask +and learn from you, but now ere this summer night draws to end let me +have knowledge of divine things from thee, most holy father, for thou +art wise and canst answer all my questionings." + +And Hilary smiled gravely, not ill pleased at her words of praise, and +said: "Ask, daughter." + +"First tell me," she said, "which of all the small things God has made +in the world is the most excellent?" + +Hilary wondered and mused, but could find no answer; and when he would +have said so, the voice which came from his lips spoke other words than +those he intended to speak, so that instead of saying "This is a +question I cannot answer," his voice said: "Of all small things made by +God, most excellent is the face of man and woman; for among all the +faces of the children of Adam not any one hath ever been wholly like +any other; and there in smallest space God has placed all the senses of +the body; and it is in the face that we see, as in a glass, darkly, all +that can be seen of the invisible soul within." + +[Illustration: _Hilary wondered and mused_] + +The companions listened marvelling, but Hilary marvelled no less than +they. + +"It is well answered," said the lady, "and yet it seemed to me there +was one thing more excellent. But let me ask again: What earth is +nearest to heaven?" + +Again Hilary mused and was silent. Then, once more, the voice which +was his voice and yet spoke words which he did not think to speak, gave +the answer: "The body of Him who died on the tree to save us, for He +was of our flesh, and our flesh is earth of the earth." + +"That too is well answered," said the lady, who had grown pale and +gazed on the Bishop with great gloomy eyes; "and yet I had thought of +another answer. Once more let me question you: What is the distance +between heaven and earth?" + +Then for the third time was Hilary unable to reply, but the voice +answered for him, in stern and menaceful tones: "Who can tell us that +more certainly than Lucifer who fell from heaven?" + +With a bitter cry the Lady Pelagia rose from her seat, and raised her +beautiful white arms above her head; but the voice continued: "Breathe +on her, Hilary--breathe the breath of the name of Christ!" + +And the Bishop, rising, breathed on the white lovely face the breath of +the holy name; and in an instant the starry eyes were darkened, and the +spirit and flower of life perished in her sweet body; and the +companions saw no longer the Lady Pelagia, but in her stead a statue of +white marble. At a glance Hilary knew it for a statue of the goddess +whom men in Rome called Venus and in Greece Aphrodite, and with a +shudder he remembered that another of her names was Pelagia, the Lady +of the Sea. But, swifter even than that thought, it seemed to them as +though the statue were smitten by an invisible hand, for it reeled and +fell, shattered to fragments; and the lights were extinguished, and the +air of the summer night blew upon their faces, and in the east, whence +cometh our hope, there was a glimmer of dawn. + +Praying fervently, and bewailing the brief joy they had taken in the +beauty of that dreadful goddess, they waited for light to guide them +from that evil place. + +When the day broadened they perceived that they were in the midst of +the ruins of an ancient Roman city, overgrown with bush and tree. +Around them lay, amid beds of nettles and great dock leaves, and darnel +and tangles of briars, and tall foxgloves and deadly nightshade, the +broken pillars of a marble temple. This had been the fair house, lit +with lamps, wherein they had sat at feast. Close beside them were +scattered the white fragments of the image of the beautiful Temptress. + +As they turned to depart three grey wolves snarled at them from the +ruins, but an unseen hand held these in leash, and Hilary and his +companions went on their way unharmed. + + + + +The Dream of the White Lark + +This was a thing that happened long and long ago, in the glimmering +morning of the Christian time in Erinn. And it may have happened to +the holy Maedog of Ferns, or to Enan the Angelic, or it may have been +Molasius of Devenish--I cannot say. But over the windy sea in his +small curragh of bull's hide the Saint sailed far away to the southern +land; and for many a month he travelled afoot through the dark forests, +and the sunny corn-lands, and over the snowy mountain horns, and along +the low shores between the olive-grey hills and the blue sea, till at +last he came in sight of a great and beautiful city glittering on the +slopes and ridges of seven hills. + +"What golden city may this be?" he asked of the dark-eyed market folk +whom he met on the long straight road which led across the open country. + +"It is the city of Rome," they answered him, wondering at his +ignorance. But the Saint, when he heard those words, fell on his knees +and kissed the ground. + +"Hail to thee, most holy city!" he cried; "hail, thou queen of the +world, red with the roses of the martyrs and white with the lilies of +the virgins; hail, blessed goal of my long wandering!" + +And as he entered the city his eyes were bright with joy, and his heart +seemed to lift his weary feet on wings of gladness. + +There he sojourned through the autumn and the winter, visiting all the +great churches and the burial-places of the early Christians in the +Catacombs, and communing with the good and wise men in many houses of +religion. Once he conversed with the great Pope whose name was +Gregory, and told him of his brethren in the beloved isle in the +western waters. + +When once more the leaf of the fig-tree opened its five fingers, and +the silvery bud of the vine began to unfurl, the Saint prepared to +return home. And once more he went to the mighty Pope, to take his +leave and to ask a blessing for himself and his brethren, and to beg +that he might bear away with him to the brotherhood some precious relic +of those who had shed their blood for the Cross. + +As he made that request in the green shadowy garden on the Hill +Caelian, the Pope smiled, and, taking a clod of common earth from the +soil, gave it to the Saint, saying, "Then take this with thee," and +when the Saint expressed his surprise at so strange a relic, the +Servant of the Servants of God took back the earth and crushed it in +his hand, and with amazement the Saint saw that blood began to trickle +from it between the fingers of the Pope. + +Marvelling greatly, the Saint kissed the holy pontiff's hand, and bade +him farewell; and going to and fro among those he knew, he collected +money, and, hiring a ship, he filled it with the earth of Rome, and +sailed westward through the Midland Sea, and bent his course towards +the steadfast star in the north, and so at last reached the beloved +green island of his home. + +In the little graveyard about the fair church of his brotherhood he +spread the earth which had drunk the blood of the martyrs, so that the +bodies of those who died in the Lord might await His coming in a +blessed peace. + +Now it happened that but a few days after his return the friend of his +boyhood, a holy brother who had long shared with him the companionship +of the cloister, migrated from this light, and when the last requiem +had been sung and the sacred earth had covered in the dead, the Saint +wept bitterly for the sake of the lost love and the unforgotten years. + +And at night he fell asleep, still weeping for sorrow. And in his +sleep he saw, as in a dream, the grey stone church with its round tower +and the graveyard sheltered by the woody hills; but behold! in the +graveyard tall trees sprang in lofty spires from the earth of Rome, and +reached into the highest heavens; and these trees were like trees of +green and golden and ruddy fire, for they were red with the blossoms of +life, and every green leaf quivered with bliss, like a green flame; and +among the trees, on a grassy sod at their feet, sat a white lark, +singing clear and loud, and he knew that the lark was the soul of the +friend of his boyhood. + +As he listened to its song, he understood its unearthly music; and +these were the words of its singing: "Do not weep any more for me; it +is pity for thy sorrow which keeps me here on the grass. If thou wert +not so unhappy I should fly." + +And when the Saint awoke his grief had fallen from him, and he wept no +more for the dead man whom he loved. + + + + +The Hermit of the Pillar + +On one of the hills near the city of Ancyra Basil the hermit stood day +and night on a pillar of stone forty feet high, praying and weeping for +his own sins and for the sins of the world. + +A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky, he stood there for +a sign and a warning to all men that our earthly life is short, whether +for wickedness or repentance; that the gladness and the splendour of +the world are but a fleeting pageant; that in but a little while the +nations should tremble before the coming of the Lord in His power and +majesty. Little heed did the rich and dissolute people of that city +give to his cry of doom; and of the vast crowds who came about the foot +of his pillar, the greater number thought but to gaze on the wonder of +a day, though some few did pitch their tents hard by, and spent the +time of their sojourn in prayer and the lamentation of hearts humbled +and contrite. + +[Illustration: _A gaunt, dark figure, far up in the blue Asian sky_] + +Now, in the third year of his testimony, as Basil was rapt in devotion, +with hands and face uplifted to the great silent stars, an Angel, +clothed in silver and the blue-green of the night, stood in front of +him in the air, and said: "Descend from thy pillar, and get thee away +far westward; and there thou shalt learn what is for thy good." + +Without delay or doubt Basil descended, and stole away alone in the +hush before the new day, and took the winding ways of the hills, and +thereafter went down into the low country of the plain to seaward. + +After long journeying among places and people unknown, he crossed the +running seas which part the eastern world from the world of the west, +and reached the City of the Golden Horn, Byzantium; and there for four +months he lived on a pillar overlooking the city and the narrow seas, +and cried his cry of doom and torment. At the end of the fourth month +the Angel once more came to him and bade him descend and go further. + +So with patience and constancy of soul he departed between night and +light, and pursued his way for many months till he had got to the +ancient city of Treves. There, among the ruins of a temple of the +heathen goddess Diana, he found a vast pillar of marble still erect, +and the top of this he thought to make his home and holy watch-tower. +Wherefore he sought out the Bishop of the city and asked his leave and +blessing, and the Bishop, marvelling greatly at his zeal and austerity, +gave his consent. + +The people of Treves were amazed at what they considered his madness; +but they gave him no hindrance, nor did they molest him in any way. +Indeed, in no long time the fame of his penance was noised abroad, and +multitudes came, as they had come at Ancyra, to see with their own eyes +what there was of truth in the strange story they had heard. +Afterwards, too, many came out of sorrow for sin and an ardent desire +of holiness; and others brought their sick and maimed and afflicted, in +the hope that the Hermit might be able to cure their ailments, or give +them assuagement of their sufferings. Many of these, in truth, Basil +sent away cleansed and made whole by the virtue of his touch or of the +blessing he bestowed upon them. + +Now, though there were many pillar-hermits in the far eastern land, +this was the first that had ever been seen in the west, and after him +there were but few others. + +A strange and well-nigh incredible thing it seemed, to look upon this +man on the height of his pillar, preaching and praying constantly, and +enduring night and day the inclemency of the seasons and the weariness +and discomfort of his narrow standing place. For the pillar, massive +as it was, was so narrow where the marble curved over in big acanthus +leaves at the four corners that he had not room to lie down at length +to sleep; and indeed he slept but little, considering slumber a waste +of the time of prayer, and the dreams of sleep so many temptations to +beguile the soul into false and fugitive pleasures. No shelter was +there from the wind, but he was bare as a stone in the field to the +driving rain and the blaze of the sun at noon; and in winter the frost +was bitter to flesh and blood, and the snow fell like flakes or white +fire. His only clothing was a coat of sheepskin; about his neck hung a +heavy chain of iron, in token that he was a thrall and bondsman of the +Lord Christ, and each Friday he wore an iron crown of thorns, in +painful memory of Christ's passion and His sorrowful death upon the +tree. Once a day he ate a little rye bread, and once he drank a little +water. + +No man could say whether he was young or aged; and the mother who had +borne him a little babe at her bosom, and had watched him grow to +boyhood, could not have recognised him, for he had been burnt black by +the sun and the frost, and the weather had bleached his hair and beard +till they looked like lichens on an ancient forest-tree, and the crown +of thorns had scarred his brow, and the links of the chain had galled +his neck and shoulders. + +For three summers and three winters he endured this stricken life with +cheerful fortitude, counting his sufferings as great gain if through +them he might secure the crown of celestial glory which God has woven +for His elect. Remembering all his prayers and supplications, and the +long martyrdom of his body, it was hard for him, at times, to resist +the assurance that he must have won a golden seat among the blessed. + +"For who, O Lord Christ!" he cried, with trembling hands outstretched, +and dim eyes weeping, "who hath taken up Thy cross as I have done, and +the anguish of the thorns and the nails, and the parched sorrow of Thy +thirst, and the wounding of Thy blessed body, and borne them for years +twenty and three, and shown them as I have shown them to the sun and +stars and the four winds, high up between heaven and earth, that men +might be drawn to Thee, and carried them across the world from the +outmost East to the outmost West? Surely, Lord God! Thou hast written +my name in Thy Book of Life, and hast set for me a happy place in the +heavens. Surely, all I have and am I have given Thee; and all that a +worm of the earth may do have I done! If in anything I have failed, +show me, Lord, I beseech Thee, wherein I have come short. If any man +there be more worthy in Thine eyes, let me, too, set eyes upon him, +that I may learn of him how I may the better please Thee. Teach me, +Lord, that which I know not, for Thou alone knowest and art wise!" + +As Basil was praying thus in the hour before dawn, once more the Angel, +clothed in silver and blue-green, as though it had been a semblance of +the starry night, came to him, and said: "Give me thy hand;" and Basil +touched the hand celestial, and the Angel drew him from his pillar, and +placed him on the ground, and said: "This is that land of the west in +which thou art to learn what is for thy good. Take for staff this +piece of tree, and follow this road till thou reachest the third +milestone; and there, in the early light, thou shalt meet him who can +instruct thee. For a sign, thou shalt know the man by the little maid +of seven years who helpeth him to drive the geese. But the man, though +young, may teach one who is older than he, and he is one who is greatly +pleasing in God's eyes." + +The clear light was glittering on the dewy grass and the wet bushes +when Basil reached the third milestone. He heard the distant sound as +of a shepherd piping, and he saw that the road in front of him was +crowded for near upon a quarter of a mile with a great gathering of +geese--fully two thousand they numbered--feeding in the grass and +rushes, and cackling, and hustling each other aside, and clacking their +big orange-coloured bills, as they waddled slowly onward towards the +city. + +Among them walked a nut-brown little maiden of seven, clad in a green +woollen tunic, with bright flaxen hair and innocent blue eyes, and bare +brown legs, and feet shod in shoes of hide. In her hand she carried a +long hazel wand, with which she kept in rule the large grey and white +geese. + +As the flock came up to the Hermit, she gazed at him with her sweet +wondering eyes, for never had she seen so strange and awful a man as +this, with his sheepskin dress and iron chain and crown of thorns, and +skin burnt black, and bleached hair and dark brows stained with blood. +For a moment she stood still in awe and fear, but the Hermit raised his +hand, and blessed her, and smiled upon her; and even in that worn and +disfigured face the light in the Hermit's eyes as he smiled was tender +and beautiful; and the child ceased to fear, and passed slowly along, +still gazing at him and smiling in return. + +In the rear of the great multitude of geese came a churl, tall and +young, and comely enough for all his embrowning in the sun and wind, +and his unkempt hair and rude dress. It was he who made the music, +playing on pan's-pipes to lighten the way, and quickening with his +staff the loiterers of his flock. + +When he perceived the Hermit he stayed his playing, for he bethought +him, Is not this the saintly man of whose strange penance and miracles +of healing the folk talk in rustic huts and hamlets far scattered? But +when they drew nigh to each other, the Hermit bowed low to the +Gooseherd, and addressed him: "Give me leave to speak a little with +thee, good brother; for an Angel of heaven hath told me of thee, and +fain would I converse with thee. Twenty years and three have I served +the King of Glory in supplication and fasting and tribulation of +spirit, and yet I lack that which thou canst teach me. Now tell me, I +beseech thee, what works, what austerities, what prayers have made thee +so acceptable to God." + +A dark flush rose on the Goose-herd's cheeks as he listened, but when +he answered it was in a grave and quiet voice: "It ill becomes an aged +man to mock and jeer at the young, nor is it more seemly that the holy +should gibe at the poor." + +"Dear son in Christ," said the Hermit, "I do not gibe or mock at thee. +By the truth of the blessed tree, I was told of thee by an Angel in the +very night which is now over and gone, and was bidden to question thee. +Wherefore be not wrathful, but answer me truly, I beg of thy charity." + +The Goose-herd shook his head. "This is a matter beyond me," he +replied. "All my work, since thou askest of my work, hath been the +tending and rearing of geese and driving them to market. From the good +marsh lands at the foot of the hills out west I drive them, and the +distance is not small, for, sleeping and resting by boulder and tree, +for five days are we on the way. Slow of foot goeth your goose when he +goeth not by water, and it profits neither master nor herd to stint +them of their green food. And all my prayer hath been that I might get +them safe to market, none missing or fallen dead by the way, and that I +might sell them speedily and at good price, and so back to the fens +again. What more is there to say?" + +"In thy humility thou hidest something from me," said the Hermit, and +he fixed his eyes thoughtfully on the young man's face. + +"Nay, I have told thee all that is worth the telling." + +"Then hast thou always lived this life?" the Hermit asked. + +"Ever since I was a small lad--such a one as the little maid in front, +and she will be in her seventh year, or it may be a little older. +Before me was my father goose-herd; and he taught me the windings of +the journey to the city, and the best resting-places, and the ways of +geese, and the meaning of their cries, and what pleaseth them and +serveth flesh and feather, and how they should be driven. And now, in +turn, I teach the child, for there be goose-girls as well as men." + +"Is she then thy young sister, or may it be that she is thy daughter?" + +"Neither young sister nor daughter is she," replied the Herd, "and yet +in truth she is both sister and daughter." + +"Wilt thou tell me how that may be?" asked the Hermit. + +"It is shortly told," said the Herd. "Robbers broke into their poor +and lonely house by the roadside and slew father and mother and left +them dead, but the babe at the breast they had not slain, and this was +she." + +"Didst thou find her?" asked the Hermit. + +"Ay, on a happy day I found her; a feeble little thing bleating like a +lambkin forlorn beside its dead dam." + +"And thy wife, belike, or thy mother, reared her?" + +"Nay," said the Herd, "for my mother was dead, and no wife have I. I +reared her myself--my little white gooseling; and she throve and waxed +strong of heart and limb, and merry and brown of favour, as thou hast +seen." + +"Thou must have been thyself scantly a man in those days," said the +Hermit. + +"Younger than to-day," replied the Herd; "but I was ever big of limb +and plentiful of my inches." + +"And hath she not been often since a burthen to thee, and a weariness +in the years?" + +"She hath been a care in the cold winter, and a sorrow in her sickness +with her teeth--for no man, I wot, can help a small child when the +teeth come through the gum, and she can but cry ah! ah! and hath no +words to tell what she aileth." + +"Why didst thou do all this?" asked the Hermit. "What hath been thy +reward? Or for what reward dost thou look?" + +The Goose-herd looked at him blankly for a moment; then his face +brightened. "Surely," he said, "to see her as she goes on her way, a +bright, brown little living thing, with her clear hair and glad eyes, +is a goodly reward. And a goodly reward is it to think of her growth, +and to mind me of the days when she could not walk and I bore her +whithersoever I went; and of the days when she could but take faltering +steps and was soon fain to climb into my arms and sit upon my neck; and +of the days when we first fared together with the geese to market and I +cut her her first hazel stick; and in truth of all the days that she +hath been with me since I found her." + +As the Goose-herd spoke the tears rose in the Hermit's eyes and rolled +slowly down his cheeks; and when the young man ceased, he said: "O son, +now I know why thou art so pleasing in the eyes of God. Early hast +thou learned the love which gives all and asks nothing, which suffereth +long and is ever kind, and this I have not learned. A small thing and +too common it seemed to me, but now I see that it is holier than +austerities, and availeth more than fasting, and is the prayer of +prayers. Late have I sought thee, thou ancient truth, late have I +found thee, thou ancient beauty; yet even in the gloaming of my days +may there still be light enough to win my way home. Farewell, good +brother; and be God tender and pitiful to thee as thou hast been tender +and pitiful to the little child." + +"Farewell, holy man!" replied the Herd, regarding him with a perplexed +look, for the life and austerities of the Hermit were a mystery he +could not understand. + +Then going on his way, he laid the pan's-pipes to his lips and whistled +a pleasant music as he strode after his geese. + + + + +Kenach's Little Woman + +As the holy season of Lent drew nigh, the Abbot Kenach felt a longing +such as a bird of passage feels in the south when the first little +silvery buds on the willow begin here to break their ruddy sheaths, and +the bird thinks to-morrow it will be time to fly over-seas to the land +where it builds its nest in pleasant croft or under the shelter of +homely eaves. And Kenach said, "Levabo oculos--I will lift up mine +eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help;" for every year it was +his custom to leave his abbey and fare through the woods to the +hermitage on the mountain-side, so that he might spend the forty days +of fasting and prayer in the heart of solitude. + +Now on the day which is called the Wednesday or Ashes he set out, but +first he heard the mass of remembrance and led his monks to the altar +steps, and knelt there in great humility to let the priest sign his +forehead with a cross of ashes. And on the forehead of each of the +monks the ashes were smeared in the form of a cross, and each time the +priest made the sign he repeated the words, "Remember, man, that thou +art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." + +So with the ashes still on his brow and with the remembrance of the end +of earthly days in his soul, he bent his steps towards the hermitage; +and as he was now an aged man and nowise strong, Diarmait, one of the +younger brethren, accompanied him in case any mischance should befall. + +They passed through the cold forest, where green there was none, unless +it were the patches of moss and the lichens on the rugged tree-trunks +and tufts of last year's grass, but here and there the white blossoms +of the snowdrops peered out. The dead grey leaves and dry twigs +crackled and snapped under their feet with such a noise as a wood fire +makes when it is newly lighted; and that was all the warmth they had on +their wayfaring. + +The short February day was closing in as they climbed among the +boulders and withered bracken on the mountainside, and at last reached +the entrance of a cavern hollowed in the rock and fringed with ivy. +This was the hermitage. The Abbot hung his bell on a thick ivy-bough +in the mouth of the cave; and they knelt and recited vespers and +compline; and thrice the Abbot struck the bell to scare away the evil +spirits of the night; and they entered and lay down to rest. + +Hard was the way of their sleeping; for they lay not on wool or on +down, neither on heather or bracken, nor yet on dry leaves, but their +sides came against the cold stone, and under the head of each there was +a stone for pillow. But being weary with the long journey they slept +sound, and felt nothing of the icy mouth of the wind blowing down the +mountain-side. + +Within an hour of daybreak, when the moon was setting, they were +awakened by the wonderful singing of a bird, and they rose for matins +and strove not to listen, but so strangely sweet was the sound in the +keen moonlight morning that they could not forbear. The moon set, and +still in the dark sang the bird, and the grey light came, and the bird +ceased; and when it was white day they saw that all the ground and +every stalk of bracken was hoary with frost, and every ivy-leaf was +crusted white round the edge, but within the edge it was all glossy +green. + +"What bird is this that sings so sweet before day in the bitter cold?" +said the Abbot. "Surely no bird at all, but an Angel from heaven +waking us from the death of sleep." + +"It is the blackbird, Domine Abbas," said the young monk; "often they +sing thus in February, however cold it may be." + +"O soul, O Diarmait, is it not wonderful that the senseless small +creatures should praise God so sweetly in the dark, and in the light +before the dark, while we are fain to lie warm and forget His praise?" +And afterwards he said, "Gladly could I have listened to that singing, +even till to-morrow was a day; and yet it was but the singing of a +little earth wrapped in a handful of feathers. O soul, tell me what it +must be to listen to the singing of an Angel, a portion of heaven +wrapped in the glory of God's love!" + +Of the forty days thirty went by, and oftentimes now, when no wind +blew, it was bright and delightsome among the rocks, for the sun was +gaining strength, and the days were growing longer, and the brown trees +were being speckled with numberless tiny buds of white and pale green, +and wild flowers were springing between the boulders and through the +mountain turf. + +Hard by the cave there was a low wall of rock covered with ivy, and as +Diarmait chanced to walk near it, a brown bird darted out from among +the leaves. The young monk looked at the place from which it had +flown, and behold! among the leaves and the hairy sinews of the ivy +there was a nest lined with grass, and in the nest there were three +eggs--pale-green with reddish spots. And Diarmait knew the bird and +knew the eggs, and he told the Abbot, who came noiselessly, and looked +with a great love at the open house and the three eggs of the mother +blackbird. + +"Let us not walk too near, my son," he said, "lest we scare the mother +from her brood, and so silence beforehand some of the music of the cold +hours before the day." And he lifted his hand and blessed the nest and +the bird, saying, "And He shall bless thy bread and thy water." After +that it was very seldom they went near the ivy. + +Now after days of clear and benign weather a shrill wind broke out from +beneath the North Star, and brought with it snow and sleet and piercing +cold. And the woods howled for distress of the storm, and the grey +stones of the mountain chattered with discomfort. Harsh cold and +sleeplessness were their lot in the cave, and as he shivered, the Abbot +bethought him of the blackbird in her nest, and of the wet flakes +driving in between the leaves of the ivy and stinging her brown wings +and patient bosom. And lifting his head from his pillow of stone he +prayed the Lord of the elements to have the bird in His gentle care, +saying, "How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O God! therefore the +children of men put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings." + +Then after a little while he said, "Look out into the night, O son, and +tell me if yet the storm be abated." + +And Diarmait, shuddering, went to the mouth of the cavern, and stood +there gazing and calling in a low voice, "Domine Abbas! My Lord Abbot! +My Lord Abbot!" + +Kenach rose quickly and went to him, and as they looked out the sleet +beat on their faces, but in the midst of the storm there was a space of +light, as though it were moonshine, and the light streamed from an +Angel, who stood near the wall of rock with outspread wings, and +sheltered the blackbird's nest from the wintry blast. + +And the monks gazed at the shining loveliness of the Angel, till the +wind fell and the snow ceased and the light faded away and the sharp +stars came out and the night was still. + +Now at sundown of the day that followed, when the Abbot was in the +cave, the young monk, standing among the rocks, saw approaching a woman +who carried a child in her arms; and crossing himself he cried aloud to +her, "Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and go down." + +[Illustration: _Come not any nearer; turn thy face to the forest, and +go down_] + +"Nay," replied the woman, "for we seek shelter for the night, and food +and the solace of fire for the little one." + +"Go down, go down," cried Diarmait; "no woman may come to this +hermitage." + +"How canst thou say that, O monk?" said the woman. "Was the Lord +Christ any worse than thou? Christ came to redeem woman no less than +to redeem man. Not less did He suffer for the sake of woman than for +the sake of man. Women gave service and tendance to Him and His +Apostles. A woman it was who bore Him, else had men been left forlorn. +It was a man who betrayed Him with a kiss; a woman it was who washed +His feet with tears. It was a man who smote Him with a reed, but a +woman who broke the alabaster box of precious ointment. It was a man +who thrice denied Him; a woman stood by His cross. It was a woman to +whom He first spoke on Easter morn, but a man thrust his hand into His +side and put his finger in the prints of the nails before he would +believe. And not less than men do women enter the heavenly kingdom. +Why then shouldst thou drive my little child and me from thy hermitage?" + +Then Kenach, who had heard all that was said, came forth from the cave, +and blessed the woman. "Well hast thou spoken, O daughter; come, and +bring the small child with thee." And, turning to the young monk, he +said, "O soul, O son, O Diarmait, did not God send His Angel out of +high heaven to shelter the mother bird? And was not that, too, a +little woman in feathers? But now hasten, and gather wood and leaves, +and strike fire from the flint, and make a hearth before the cave, that +the woman may rest and the boy have the comfort of the bright flame." + +This was soon done, and by the fire sat the woman eating a little +barley bread; but the child, who had no will to eat came round to the +old man, and held out two soft hands to him. And the Abbot caught him +up from the ground to his breast, and kissed his golden head, saying, +"God bless thee sweet little son, and give thee a good life and a +happy, and strength of thy small body, and, if it be His holy will, +length of glad days; and ever mayest thou be a gladness and deep joy to +thy mother." + +Then, seeing that the woman was strangely clad in an outland garb of +red and blue, and that she was tall, with a golden-hued skin and olive +eyes, arched eyebrows very black, aquiline nose, and a rosy mouth, he +said, "Surely, O daughter, thou art not of this land of Erinn in the +sea, but art come out of the great world beyond?" + +"Indeed, then, we have travelled far," replied the woman; "as thou +sayest, out of the great world beyond. And now the twilight deepens +upon us." + +"Thou shalt sleep safe in the cave, O daughter, but we will rest here +by the embers. My cloak of goats' hair shalt thou have, and such dry +bracken and soft bushes as may be found." + +"There is no need," said the woman, "mere shelter is enough;" and she +added in a low voice, "Often has my little son had no bed wherein he +might lie." + +Then she stretched out her arms to the boy, and once more the little +one kissed the Abbot, and as he passed by Diarmait he put the palms of +his hands against the face of the young monk, and said laughingly, "I +do not think thou hadst any ill-will to us, though thou wert rough and +didst threaten to drive us away into the woods." + +And the woman lifted the boy on her arm, and rose and went towards the +cavern; and when she was in the shadow of the rocks she turned towards +the monks beside the fire, and said, "My son bids me thank you." + +They looked up, and what was their astonishment to see a heavenly glory +shining about the woman and her child in the gloom of the cave. And in +his left hand the child carried a little golden image of the world, and +round his head was a starry radiance, and his right hand was raised in +blessing. + +For such a while as it takes the shadow of a cloud to run across a +rippling field of corn, for so long the vision remained; and then it +melted into the darkness, even as a rainbow melts away into the rain. + +On his face fell the Abbot, weeping for joy beyond words; but Diarmait +was seized with fear and trembling till he remembered the way in which +the child had pressed warm palms against his face and forgiven him. + +The story of these things was whispered abroad, and ever since, in that +part of Erinn in the sea, the mother blackbird is called Kenach's +Little Woman. + +And as for the stone on which the fire was lighted in front of the +cave, rain rises quickly from it in mist and leaves it dry, and snow +may not lie upon it, and even in the dead of winter it is warm to +touch. And to this day it is called the Stone of Holy Companionship. + + + + +Golden Apples and Roses Red + +In the cruel days of old, when Diocletian was the Master of the World, +and the believers in the Cross were maimed, and tortured with fire, and +torn with iron hooks, and cast to the lions, and beheaded with the +sword, Dorothea, a beautiful maiden of Caesarea, was brought before +Sapricius, the Governor of Cappadocia, and commanded to forsake the +Lord Christ and offer incense to the images of the false gods. + +Though she was so young and so fair and tender, she stood unmoved by +threats and entreaties, and when, with little pity on her youth and +loveliness, Sapricius menaced her with the torment of the iron bed over +a slow fire, she replied: "Do with me as you will. No pain shall I +fear, so firm is my trust in Him for whom I am ready to die." + +"Who, then, is this that has won thy love?" asked the Governor. + +"It is Christ Jesus, the Son of God. Slay me, and I shall but the +sooner be with Him in His Paradise, where there is no more pain, +neither sorrow, but the tears are wiped from all eyes, and the roses +are in bloom alway, and for ever the fruit of joy is on the trees." + +"Thy words are but the babbling of madness," said the Governor angrily. + +"I am not mad, most noble Sapricius." + +[Illustration: "_I am not mad, most noble Sapricius_"] + +"Here, then, is the incense, sacrifice, and save thy life." + +"I will not sacrifice," replied Dorothea. + +"Then shalt thou die," said Sapricius; and he bade the doomsman take +her to the place of execution and strike off her head. + +Now as she was being led away from the judgment-seat, a gay young +advocate named Theophilus said to her jestingly: "Farewell, sweet +Dorothea: when thou hast joined thy lover, wilt thou not send me some +of the fruit and roses of his Paradise?" + +Looking gravely and gently at him, Dorothea answered: "I will send +some." + +Whereupon Theophilus laughed merrily, and went his way homeward. + +At the place of execution, Dorothea begged the doomsman to tarry a +little, and kneeling by the block, she raised her hands to heaven and +prayed earnestly. At that moment a fair child stood beside her, +holding in his hand a basket containing three golden apples and three +red roses. + +"Take these to Theophilus, I pray thee," she said to the child, "and +tell him Dorothea awaits him in the Paradise whence they came." + +Then she bowed her head, and the sword of the doomsman fell. + +Mark now what follows. + +Theophilus, who had reached home, was still telling of what had +happened and merrily repeating his jest about the fruit and flowers of +Paradise, when suddenly, while he was speaking, the child appeared +before him with the apples and the roses. "Dorothea," he said, "has +sent me to thee with these, and she awaits thee in the garden." And +straightway the child vanished. + +The fragrance of those heavenly roses filled Theophilus with a strange +pity and gladness; and, eating of the fruit of the Angels, he felt his +heart made new within him, so that he, also, became a servant of the +Lord Jesus, and suffered death for His name, and thus attained to the +celestial garden. + +Centuries after her martyrdom, the body of Dorothea was laid in a +bronze shrine richly inlaid with gold and jewels in the church built in +her honour beyond Tiber, in the seven-hilled city of Rome. + +There it lay in the days when Waldo was a brother at the Priory of +Three Fountains, among the wooded folds of the Taunus Hills; and every +seven years the shrine was opened that the faithful might gaze on the +maiden martyr of Caesarea. + + +An exceeding great love and devotion did Waldo bear this holy virgin, +whom he had chosen for his patroness, and one of his most ardent wishes +was that he might some day visit the church beyond Tiber, and kneel by +the shrine which contained her precious relics. In summer the red +roses, in autumn the bright apples on the tree, reminded him of her; in +the spring he thought of her youth and beauty joyously surrendered to +Christ, and the snow in winter spoke to him of her spotless innocence. +Thus through the round of the year the remembrance of her was present +about him in fair suggestions; and indeed had there been any lack of +these every gift of God would have recalled her to his mind, for was +not that--"the gift of God"--her name? + +Notwithstanding his youth, Waldo was ripe in learning, well skilled in +Latin and Greek, and so gifted beyond measure in poetry and music that +people said he had heard the singing of Angels and had brought the echo +of it to the earth. His hymns and sacred songs were known and loved +all through the German land, and far beyond. The children sang them in +the processions on the high feast days, the peasants sang them at their +work in house or field, travellers sang them as they journeyed over the +long heaths and through the mountain-forests, fishers and raftsmen sang +them on the rivers. He composed the Song of the Sickle which cuts at a +stroke the corn in its ripeness and the wild flower in its bloom, and +the Song of the Mill-wheel, with its long creak and quick clap, and the +melodious rush of water from the buckets of the wheel, and many another +which it would take long to tell of; but that which to himself was +sweetest and dearest was Golden Apples and Roses Red, the song in which +he told the legend of St. Dorothea his patroness. + + +Now when Waldo was in the six-and-thirtieth year of his age he was +smitten with leprosy; and when it was found that neither the relics of +the saints, nor the prayers of holy men, nor the skill of the physician +availed to cure him, but that it was God's will he should endure to the +end, the Prior entreated him to surrender himself to that blessed will, +and to go forth courageously to the new life of isolation which awaited +him. For in those days it was not lawful that a leper should abide in +the companionship of men, and he was set apart lest his malady should +bring others to a misery like his own. + +Deep was the grief of the brethren of Three Fountains when they were +summoned to attend the sacred office of demission which was to shut out +Waldo for ever from intercourse with his fellows. And well might any +good heart sorrow, for this was the order of that office. + +The altar was draped in black, and Mass for the Dead was sung; and all +the things that Waldo would need in the house of his exile, from the +flint and iron which gave fire to the harp which should give solace, +were solemnly blessed and delivered to him. Next he was warned not to +approach the dwellings of men, or to wash in running streams, or to +handle the ropes of draw-wells, or to drink from the cups of wayside +springs. He was forbidden the highways, and when he went abroad a +clapper must give token of his coming and going. Nothing that might be +used by others should he touch except with covered hands. + +When after these warnings he had been exhorted to patience and trust in +God's mercy and love, the brethren formed a procession, with the cross +going before, and led him away to his hermitage among the wooded hills. +On a little wood-lawn, beyond a brook crossed by stepping-stones, a hut +of boughs had been prepared for him, and the Prior bade him mark the +grey boulder on the further side of the brook, for there he would find +left for him, week by week, such provisions as he needed. + +Last rite of all, the Prior entering the hut strewed over his bed of +bracken a handful of mould from the churchyard saying, "Sis mortuus +mundo--Dead be thou to the world, but living anew to God," and turfs +from the churchyard were laid on the roof of the hut. Thus in his grey +gown and hood was Waldo committed alive to his grave, and the brethren, +chanting a requiem, returned to the Priory. + +The tidings of Waldo's grievous lot travelled far and wide through the +German land, and thenceforth when his songs were sung many a true man's +heart was heavy and many a good woman's eyes were filled with tears as +they bethought them of the poor singer in his hut among the hills. +Kindly souls brought alms and provisions and laid them on his boulder +by the brook, and oftentimes as they came and went they sang some hymn +or song he had composed, for they said, "So best can we let him know +that we remember him and love him." Indeed, to his gentle heart the +sound of their human voices in that solitude was as the warm clasp of a +beloved hand. + + +When Waldo had lived there alone among the hills for the space of two +years and more, and his malady had grown exceeding hard to bear, he was +seized with a woeful longing--such a longing as comes upon a little +child for its mother when it has been left all alone in the house, and +has gone seeking her in all the chambers, and finds she is not there. +And as on a day he went slowly down to the boulder by the stream in the +failing light, thinking of her who had cherished his childhood--how he +had clung to her gown, how with his little hand in hers he had run by +her side, how she had taken him on her lap and made his hurts all well +with kisses, his heart failed him, and crying aloud "Mother, O mother!" +he knelt by the boulder, and laid his head on his arms, weeping. + +Then from among the trees on the further side of the brook came a +maiden running, but she paused at the stepping-stones when she saw +Waldo, and said, "Was it thy voice I heard calling 'Mother'?" + +The monk did not answer or move. + +"Art thou Brother Waldo?" she asked. + +Raising his head, he looked at her and replied, "I am Brother Waldo." + +"Poor brother, I pity thee," said the maiden; "there is no man or maid +but pities thee. If thou wilt tell me of thy mother, I will find her, +even were I to travel far, and bid her come to thee. Well I wot she +will come to thee if she may." + +For all his manhood and learning and holiness, Waldo could not still +the crying of the little child within him, and he told the maiden of +his mother, and blessed her, and asked her name. When she answered +that it was Dorothy, "Truly," said he, "it is a fair name and gracious, +and in thy coming thou hast been a gift of God to me." + +Thereupon the maiden left him, and Waldo returned to his hut, comforted +and full of hope. + +After a month had gone Dorothy returned. Crossing the stepping-stones +in the clear light of the early morning, she found Waldo meditating by +the door of his hut. + +"I have done thy bidding, brother," she said in a gentle voice, "but +alas! thy mother cannot come to thee. Grieve not too much at this, for +she is with God. She must have died about the time thou didst call for +her; and well may I believe that it was she who sent me to thee in her +stead." + +"The will of God be done," said Waldo, and he bowed his head, and spoke +no more for a long while; but the maiden stood patiently awaiting till +he had mastered his grief. + +At length he raised his head and saw her. "Art thou not gone?" he +asked. "I thought thou hadst gone. Thou art good and gentle, and I +thank thee. Go now, for here thou mayst not stay." + +"Nay, brother," replied Dorothy, "thou hast no mother to come to thee +now, no companion or friend to minister to thee. This is my place. Do +not fear that I shall annoy or weary thee. I shall but serve and obey +thee, coming and going at thy bidding. Truly thou art too weak and +afflicted to be left any more alone." + +"It may not be, dear child. Thy father and mother or others of thy +kinsfolk need thee at home." + +"All these have been long dead," said Dorothy, "and I am alone. Here +in the wood I will find me a hollow tree, and thou shalt but call to +have me by thee, and but lift a finger to see me no more." + +"Why wouldst thou do this for me?" asked Waldo, wondering at her +persistency. + +"Ah, brother, I know thy suffering and I love thy songs." + +"And dost thou not shudder at this horror that is upon me, and dread +lest the like befall thee too?" + +Then Dorothy laughed low and softly to herself, and answered only so. + + +In this wise the maiden came to minister to the poor recluse, and so +gracious was she and humble, so prudent and yet so tender, that in his +suffering she was great solace to him, bringing his food from the +boulder and his drink from the brook, cleaning his cell and freshening +it with fragrant herbs; and about the cell she made a garden of +wholesome plants and wild flowers, and all kindly service that was +within her power she did for him. + +So beautiful was she and of such exceeding sweetness, that when his +eyes rested upon her, he questioned in his mind whether she was a true +woman and not an Angel sent down to console him in his dereliction. +And that doubt perplexed and troubled him, for so little are we Angels +yet that in our aches and sorrows of the flesh it is not the comfort of +Angels but the poor human pitiful touch of the fellow-creature that we +most yearn for. Once, indeed, he asked her fretfully, "Tell me truly +in the name of God, art thou a very woman of flesh and blood?" + +"Truly then, brother," she answered, smiling, "I am of mortal flesh and +blood even as thou art, and time shall be when this body that thou +seest will be mingled with the dust of the earth." + +"Is it then the way of women to sacrifice so much for men as thou hast +done for me?" + +"It is the way of women who love well," said Dorothy. + +"Then needs must I thank thy namesake and my patroness in heaven," +rejoined Waldo. + +"Yea, and is St. Dorothea thy patroness?" asked the maiden. + +Waldo told her that so it was, and rapturously he spoke of the young +and beautiful saint done to death in Caesarea, and of the fruit and +flowers of Paradise which she sent to Theophilus. "And I would," he +sighed under his breath, "that she would send such a gift to me." + +"All this I know," said Dorothy, "for I have learnt thy song of Golden +Apples and Roses Red, and I love it most of all thy songs, though these +be many and sung all about the world, I think. And this I will tell +thee of thy songs, that I saw in a dream once how they were not mere +words and melody, but living things. Like the bright heads of baby +Angels were they, and they were carried on wings as it were of +rose-leaves, and they fluttered about the people who loved them and +sang them, leading them into blessed paths and whispering to them holy +and happy thoughts." + +"God be blessed and praised for ever, if it be so," said Waldo; "but +this was no more than a maiden's dream." + + +For two winters Dorothy ministered to the poor leper, and during this +while no one save Waldo knew of her being in the woods, and no other +man set eyes on her. The fourth year of his exile was now drawing to a +close, and Waldo had fallen into extreme weakness by reason of his +malady, and over his face he wore a mask of grey cloth, with two holes +for his great piteous eyes. It was in the springtide, and one night as +he lay sleepless in the dark, listening to the long murmur of the wind +in the swaying pines, he heard overhead sharp cries and trumpetings, +and the creaking and winnowing of wings innumerable. + +Rising from his bed, he went out of doors, and looked up into the dark +heavens; and high and spectral among the clouded stars he saw the +home-coming of the cranes. He sat on the bench beside his door, and +watched them sail past in thousands, filling the night with a fleeting +clamour and eerie sounds. As he sat he mused on the strange longing +which brought these birds over land and sea back home, year by year, +with the returning spring, and he marvelled that the souls of men, +which are but birds of passage in these earthly fields, should be so +slow to feel that longing for their true home-land. + +That day when Dorothy came to the hut, he said to her: "It is well to +be glad, for, though the air is still keen, the spring is here. I +heard the cranes returning in the night." + +"And I too heard them; and I heard thee rejoicing, playing on thy harp +and singing." + +"That could not be, sister," said Waldo, "unless in a dream. No longer +can I touch harp-string, as thou knowest." + +"In truth I was awake and heard," said Dorothy; "and the song thou wast +singing was of birds of passage, and of the longing of exiles to go +home, and of the dark wherethrough we must pass, with cries and beating +wings, ere we can find our way back to our true home-land.'" + +"Nay, it must have been a dream," said Waldo, "for as I sat with my +hands hidden in my gown I did but play an imaginary harp, making still +music in my heart, and no song came from my lips." + +"The more strange that I should hear!" replied Dorothy, smiling as she +went her way. + + +In a little while from this the poor brother felt that the end of his +martyrdom drew nigh; and as he lay feeble and faint in the shadow of +the hut (for the day was clement), sighing for the hour of his +deliverance, Dorothy came from the woods. In her hand she carried a +basket, and as she stood over him she said, "See what I have brought +for thee." + +Lifting his head weakly, and looking through the eyelets of his grey +mask, Waldo saw that the basket contained three golden apples and three +red roses, though still it was but early days in spring. At sight of +them he uttered a cry of gladness (for all it was a cry hollow and +hoarse), and strove to rise and throw himself at her feet. + +"Nay, brother," she said, "refrain; lie still and breathe the sweetness +of the roses and taste of the fruit." + +She gave him one of the apples, and putting it to his mouth he tasted +it and sighed deeply. In a moment all pain and suffering had left him, +and his spirit was light and gladsome. His eyes too were opened, so +that he knew that Dorothy had no way deceived him, but was truly a +living woman of flesh and blood like himself. Then a heavenly peace +descended upon him like a refreshing dew, and he closed his eyes for +the great ease he felt. + +While these things were happening, came from Three Fountains the +lay-brother who brought Waldo his provisions. Crossing the brook to +set his budget on the boulder, he saw the poor recluse lying in the lee +of the hut, and Dorothy leaning over him. Wherefore he hastened across +the wood-lawn, but in an instant the fair woman vanished before his +eyes, and when he came to the hut he saw that Waldo was dead. He +carried the basket of flowers and fruit to the Priory, and told what he +had seen; and the Prior, marvelling greatly, came to the place and gave +the poor leper brother a blessed burial. + + +Now at this time a wondrous strange occurrence was the talk of Rome. + +The year wherein Waldo died was that seventh year in which the shrine +of St. Dorothea is opened in her church beyond Tiber; and the day on +which it is opened fell a little while before the death of Waldo. + +Behold, then, when on the vigil of that feast the priests unlocked the +shrine, the place where aforetime the holy body of the martyr had lain +was empty. Great was the dismay, loud the lamentation, grievous the +suspicion. The custodians of the church and the shrine were seized and +cast into prison, where they lay till the day of their trial. On the +morning of that day the church of St. Dorothea was filled with a divine +fragrance, which seemed to transpire from the empty shrine as from a +celestial flower. Wherefore once again the shrine was opened, and +there, even such as they had been seen by many of the faithful seven +years before, lay the relics of the Saint in their old resting-place. + + +Now to all poor souls God grant a no less happy end of days than this +which He vouchsafed to the poor leper-singer Waldo of the Priory of +Three Fountains. + + + + +The Seven Years of Seeking + +Here begins the chapter of the Seven Years of Seeking. + +For, trying greatly to win sight of that blessed isle, the Earthly +Paradise, the monk Serapion and his eleven companions hoisted sail; and +for seven years they continued in that seeking, wandering with little +respite under cloud and star, in all the ways of the sea of ocean which +goeth round the world. + + +[Now this chapter was read of evenings in the refectory at supper, in +the winter of the Great Snow. While the drifts without lay fathom-deep +in sheltered places, and the snow was settling on the weather-side of +things in long slopes like white pent-houses, the community listened +with rapt attention, picturing to themselves the slanting ship, and the +red sail of skins with its yellow cross in the midst, and the +marvellous vision of vast waters, and the strange islands. Then +suddenly the Prior would strike the table, and according to the custom +the reader would close his book with the words, "Tu autem, Domine--But +do Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us!" and the monks would rise, with +interest still keen in the wanderings of the Sea-farers. + +Seeing that it would be of little profit to break up the reading as the +Prior was wont to break it up, I will give the story here without pause +or hindrance, as though it had all been read in a single evening at +supper, and keep my "Tu autem" for the end of all. And truly it is at +the end of all that most there is need of that prayer. So without more +ado.] + + +Serapion and his companions were, all save one, monks of the Abbey of +the Holy Face. Not the first Abbey of that name, in the warm green +woods in the western creek of Broce-Liande, but the second, which is +nearer to the sunrise. For the site of the first Abbey was most +delightful, and so sheltered from the weary wind of the west, and so +open to the radiance of the morning, that, save it were Paradise, no +man could come at a place so gracious and delectable. There earliest +broke the land into leaf and blossom; and there the leaf was last to +fall; and there one could not die, not even the very aged. Wherefore, +in order that the long years of their pilgrimage might be shortened, +the brethren prevailed on the Abbot to remove to another site, nearer +the spring of the day; and in this new house, one by one in due season, +they were caught up to the repose of the heavens, the aged fathers +dying first, as is seemly. + +This then was the second Abbey of the Holy Face, and its pleasant woods +ran down to the shore of the sea. And going east or going west, where +the green billow shades into blue water, the ships of the mariners kept +passing and repassing day after day; and their sails seemed to cast an +enchanted shadow across the cloister; and the monks, as they watched +them leaning over to the breeze, dreamed of the wondrous Garden of +Eden, which had not been swallowed up by the Deluge, but had been saved +as an isle inviolate amid the fountains of the great deep; and they +asked each other whether not one of all these sea-farers would ever +bring back a fruit or a flower or a leaf from the arbours of delight in +which our first parents had dwelt. They spoke of the voyage of Brendan +the Saint, and of the exceeding loveliness of the Earthly Paradise, and +of the deep bliss of breathing its air celestial, till it needed little +to set many of them off on a like perilous adventure. + +Of all the brethren Serapion was the most eager to begin that seeking. +And this was what brought him to it at last. + + +There came to the Abbey on a day in spring that youthful Bishop of +Arimathea who in after time made such great fame in the world. Tall +and stately was he, and black-bearded; a guest pleasant and wise, and +ripe with the experience of distant travel and converse with many chief +men. Now he was on his way to the great house of Glastonbury oversea, +to bring back with him, if he might be so fortunate, the body of the +saint of his city who had helped our Lord to bear His cross on the Way +Dolorous; or, if that were an issue beyond his skill, at least some +precious memorial of that saint. + +Many things worthy of remembrance he told of what he had seen and +heard; and no small marvel did it seem to speak with one who had stood +on Mount Sinai in the wilderness. From the top of that mountain, he +said, one looked down on a region stretching to the Red Sea, and in the +midst of the plain there is a monastery of saintly recluses, but no man +can discover any track that leads to it. Faint and far away the bells +are heard tolling for prime, it may be, or vespers, and it is believed +that now and again some weary traveller has reached it, but no one has +ever returned. The Ishmaelites, who dwell in the wilderness, have +ridden long in search of it, guided by the sound of the bells, but +never have they succeeded in catching a gleam of its white walls among +the palm-trees, nor yet of the green palms. The Abbot of that house, +it is said, is none other than the little child whom our Lord set in +the midst of His Disciples, saying, "Except ye become as little +children," and he will abide on the earth till our Lord's return, and +then shall he enter into the kingdom with Him, without tasting death. + +Speaking of the holy places, Calvary, it might be, or the Garden of +Olives and the sepulchre of the Lord, and of the pilgrims who visited +these, he repeated to us the saying of the saintly Father Hieronymus: +"To live in Jerusalem is not a very holy thing, but to live a holy life +in Jerusalem." And walking with many of our brethren on the shore of +the sea and seeing the sails of the ships as they went by, he +questioned us of the wonders of the great waters, and of sea-faring, +and of the last edge of the living earth, and he said: "Tell me, you +who abide within sight of so many ships, and who hear continually the +song of the great creature Sea, how would it fare with one who should +sail westward and keep that one course constantly?" + +We said that we knew not; it were like he would perish of famine or +thirst, or be whelmed in the deep. + +"Ay," he said, "but if he were well provisioned, with no lack of food +and water, and the weather held fair?" + +That we could not answer, for it seemed to us that such a one would +lose heart and hope in the roofless waste, with never a stone or tree, +nor any shadow save a cloud's, and turn back dismayed; but Serapion +replied: "To me it appears, your Discretion, that so bold a mariner, if +years failed him not, might win to the Earthly Paradise." + +"So have I heard," said the Bishop. "Yet here would you be sailing +into the west, and for a certainty the Paradise of God was in the east. +How would you give a reasonable account of this?" + +But we could make no reply, for we knew not; nor Serapion more than we. + +"Now, watching the sea," said the Bishop, "you have marked the ships, +how they go. When they come to you, they first show the mast-top, then +the sail, and last the body of the ship, and perchance the sweep of the +oars, reverse-wise when they depart from you, you first fail to see the +body of the ship, and then the sail, but longest you hold in sight the +mast-top, or it may be a bright streamer flying therefrom, or a cross +glittering in the light--though these be but small things compared with +the body of the ship. Is it not so?" + +We answered, readily enough, that so it was. + +"Is it not then even as though one were to watch a wayfarer on +horse-back, going or coming over the green bulge of a low hill? Were +he coming to you, you would first see the head of the rider, and last +the legs of the horse, and were he riding away the horse would first go +down over the hill, but still, for a little, you would see the man +waving his hand in farewell as he sank lower and lower." + +Such indeed, we said, was the fashion of a ship's coming and going. + +"Does it not then seem a likely thing," said his Discretion, "that the +sea is in the nature of a long low hill, down which the ships go? So +have I heard it surmised by wise men, sages and scholars of the lights +of heaven, in the cities of Greece and Egypt. For the earth and the +ocean-sea, they teach, is fashioned as a vast globe in the heights of +heaven. And truly, if indeed it be the shadow of the world which +darkens the face of the moon in time of eclipse, the earth may well be +round, for that shadow is round. Thus, then, one holding ever a +westward course might sail down the bulge of the sea, and under the +world, and round about even unto the east, if there be sea-way all +along that course." + +Silently we listened to so strange a matter, but the Bishop traced for +us on the sand a figure of the earth. "And here," said he, "is this +land of ours, and here the sea, and here the bulge of ocean, and here a +ship sailing westward; and here in the east is the Earthly Paradise; +and mark now how the ship fareth onward ever on the one course +unchanged, till it cometh to that blessed place." + +Truly this was a wondrous teaching; and when we questioned how they who +sailed could escape falling out and perishing, they and indeed their +ship, when they came so far down the round sea that they hung heads +nethermost, his Discretion laughed: "Nay, if the sea, which the wind +breaketh and lifteth and bloweth about in grey showers, fall not out, +neither will the ship, nor yet the mariners; for the Lord God hath so +ordered it that wheresoever mariners be, there the sea shall seem to +them no less flat than a great grass-meadow when the wind swings the +grass; and if they hang head downward they know not of it; but rather, +seeing over them the sun and the clouds, they might well pity our evil +case, deeming it was we who were hanging heads nethermost." + +Now this and suchlike converse with the Bishop so moved Serapion that +he lost the quietude of soul and the deep gladness of heart which are +the portion of the cloister. Day and night his thought was flying +under sail across the sea towards the Earthly Paradise, and others +there were who were of one longing with him. Wherefore at last they +prayed leave of the Abbot to build a ship and to try the venture. + +The Abbot consented, but when they besought him to go with them and to +lead them, he shook his head smiling, and answered: "Nay, children, I +am an aged man, little fitted for such a labour. Wiser is it for me to +lean my staff against my fig-tree, and have in mind the eternal years. +Moreover, as you know, many are the sons in this house who look to me +for fatherly care. But if it be your wish, one shall go with you to be +the twelfth of your company. In hours of peril and perplexity and +need, if such should befall you, you shall bid him pray earnestly, and +after he has prayed, heed what he shall say, even as you would heed the +words of your Abbot. No better Abbot and counsellor could you have, +for he hath still preserved his baptismal innocence. It is Ambrose, +the little chorister." + +Serapion and the others wondered at this, but readily they accepted the +Abbot's choice of a companion. + +Think now of the ship as built--a goodly ship of stout timber frame +covered two-ply with hides seasoned and sea-worthy, well found in +provisions against a long voyage, fitted with sturdy mast of pine and +broad sail. And think of the Mass as sung, with special prayer to Him +who is the confidence of them that are afar off upon the sea. And +think of the leave-taking and blessing as over and done, and of the +Sea-farers as all aboard, eleven brethren and Ambrose the chorister, a +little lad of nine summers. + +Now all is cast loose, and the red sail is drawn up the mast and set +puffing, and the ship goes out, dipping and springing, into the deep. +On the shore the religious stand watching; and Serapion is at the +rudder, steering and glancing back; and the others aboard are waving +hands landward; and on a thwart beside the mast stands the little lad, +and at a sign from Serapion he lifts up his clear sweet voice, singing +joyfully the _Kyrie eleison_ of the Litany. The eleven join in the +glad song, and it is caught up by the voices of those on shore, as +though it were by an organ; and as he sings the lad Ambrose watches the +white ruffled wake-water of the ship, how it streams between the +unbroken green sea on either hand, and it seems to him most like the +running of a shallow brook when it goes ruffling over the pebbles in +the greenwood. + +To those on ship and to those on shore the song of each grew a fainter +hearing as the distance widened; and the magnitude of the ship +lessened; and first the hull went down the bulge of the ocean, and next +the sail; and long ere it was sunset all trace of the Sea-farers had +vanished away. + + +Now is this company of twelve gone forth into the great waters; far +from the beloved house of the Holy Face are they gone, and far from the +blithesome green aspect of the good earth; and no man of them knoweth +what bane or blessing is in store for him, or whether he shall ever +again tread on grass or ground. A little tearfully they think of their +dear cloister-mates, but they are high of heart nothing the less. +Their ship is their garth, and cloister, and choir, wherein they praise +God with full voices through all the hours from matins to compline. + +Of the bright weather and fresh wind which carried them westward many +days it would be tedious to tell, and indeed little that was strange +did they see at that time, save it were a small bird flying high +athwart their course, and a tree, with its branches and green leaves +unlopped, which lay in the swing of the wave; but whither and whence +the bird was flying, or where that tree grew in soil, they could not +guess. + +Of what happened to them in the course of their seeking, even of that +the telling must be brief, flitting from one event to another, even as +the small Peter-bird flits from the top of one wave to the top of +another, nor wets foot or feather in the marbled sea between; else +would the story of the seeking linger out the full seven years of the +seeking. + + +The first trial that befell them was dense wintry fog, in the dusk of +which they lay with lowered sail on a sullen sea for a day and a night. +When the change came, it brought with it the blowing of a fierce gale +with a plague of sleet and hail-stones, and they were chased out of the +fog, and driven far into the south. + +Great billows followed them as they ran, and broke about the stern of +the ship in fountains of freezing spray which drenched them to the +skin. Little ease had they in their sea-faring in that long race with +the north wind, for every moment they looked to have the mast torn up +by the root and the frame-work of the ship broken asunder. The salt +surf quenched their fire and mingled their bread with bitterness. + +Aching they were and weary, and sorrowful enough to sleep, when the +tempest abated, and the sun returned, and the sea rolled in long glassy +swells. + +As the sun blazed out, and the sea glittered over all his trackless +ways, Serapion said to the chorister: "Ha, little brother, 'tis good, +is it not? to see the bright sun once more. His face is as the face of +an Angel to us." + +The lad looked at him curiously, but made no answer. + +"Art thou ailing, or sad, or home-sick, little one, that thou hast +nought to say?" asked Serapion. + +"Nay, father, I was but thinking of thy words, that the face of the sun +is as the face of an Angel." + +"Ay! And is it not so?" + +"Nay, father. When I have seen the sun at sunrise and at sunset I have +ever seen a ring of splendid Angels, and in the midst of the ring the +snow-white Lamb with his red cross, and the Angels were moving +constantly around the Lamb, joyfully glittering; and that was the sun. +But as it rose into the heavens the Angels dazzled mine eyes so that I +could see them no more, nor yet the Lamb, for very brightness. Is the +sun then otherwise than what I see?" + +Then was it Serapion's turn to muse, and he answered: + +"To thy young eyes which be clear and strong--yet try them not +overmuch--it is doubtless as thou sayest; but we who are older have +lost the piercing sight, and to us the sun is but a great and wonderful +splendour which dazzles us before we can descry either the Angels or +the Lamb." + +Meanwhile the Sea-farers ate and drank and spread their raiment to dry, +and some were oppressed by the memory of the hardships they had +endured; but Serapion, going among them, cheered them with talk of the +Earthly Paradise, and of the joy it would be, when they had won +thither, to think of the evil chances through which they had passed. +In a low tone he also spoke to them of their small companion and his +vision of the sun. + +"Truly," he said, "it is as our Father Abbot told us--he has not lost +his baptismal innocence, nor hath he lost all knowledge of the heaven +from which he came." + +As he was speaking thus, one of the brethren rose up with a cry, and, +shading his eyes with his hand, pointed into the west. Far away in the +shimmer of the sea and the clouds they perceived an outline of land, +and they changed their course a little to come to it. The wind carried +them bravely on, and they began to distinguish blue rounded hills and +ridges, and a little later green woodland, and still later, on the edge +of twilight, the white gleam of waters, and glimpses of open lawns +tinged with the colour of grasses in flower. + +With beating hearts they leaned on the low bulwark of the ship, +drinking in the beauty of the island. + +Then out of a leafy creek shot a boat of white and gold; and though it +was far off, the air was so crystalline that they saw it was garlanded +with fresh leaves, and red and yellow and blue blossoms; and in it +there were many lovely forms, clothed in white and crowned with wreaths +rose-coloured and golden. + +When the Sea-farers perceived that the boat glided towards them without +sail or oar, they said among themselves, "These are assuredly the +spirits of the Blessed;" and when suddenly the boat paused in its +course, and the islanders began a sweet song, and the brethren caught +the words and knew them for Latin, they were fain to believe that they +had, by special grace and after brief tribulations, got within sight of +the shore they sought. + +The song was one of a longing for peace and deep sleep and dreamful joy +and love in the valleys of the isle; and it bade the Sea-farers come to +them, and take repose after cold and hunger and toil on the sea. Tears +of gladness ran down the cheeks of several of the Seekers as they +listened, and one of them cried aloud: "O brothers, we have come far, +but it is worth the danger and the suffering to hear this welcome of +the Blessed." + +Now the small chorister, who was standing by Serapion at the helm, +touched the father's sleeve, and asked in a low voice: "Have I leave to +sing in answer?" + +"Sing, little son," Serapion replied. + +Then, ringing the blessed bell of the Sea-farers, the child intoned the +evening hymn: + + _Te lucis ante terminum--_ + _Before the waning of the light._ + +The instant his fresh young voice was heard singing that holy hymn, the +flower-garlands about the boat broke into ghastly flames, and wreathed +it with a dreadful burning; and the radiant figures were changed into +dark shapes crowned with fire; and the song of longing and love became +a wailing and gnashing of teeth. The island vanished away in rolling +smoke; and the boat burned down like a darkening ember; and the +Sea-farers in their ship were once more alone in the wilderness of +waters. + +Long they prayed that night, praising God that they had escaped the +snares and enchantments of the fiends. And Serapion, drawing the lad +to him, kissed him, saying: "God be with thee, little brother, in thy +uprising and thy down-lying! God be with thee, little son!" + + +After this they were again driven into the south for many a day, and +saw no earthly shore, but everywhere unending waters. A great +wonderment to them was this immensity of the sea of ocean, wherein the +land seemed a little thing lost for ever. And ever as they drove +onward, the pilot star of the north was steadfast no longer, but sank +lower and still lower in the heavens, and many of the everlasting +lights, which at home they had seen swing round it through the livelong +night, were now sunken, as it were, in the billows. + +"Truly," said Serapion, "it is even as his Discretion the Bishop told +us; whether east we sail or west, or cross-wise north and south, the +earth is of the figure of a ball. In a little while it may be that we +shall see the pilot star no more;" and he was sorely troubled in his +mind as to how they should steer thereafter with no beacon in heaven to +guide them, and how they would make their way back to the Abbey of the +Holy Face. + +In their wandering they set eyes on a thing well-nigh +incredible--nothing less than fishes rising from the depths of the sea, +and flying like birds over the ship, and diving into the sea again, and +yet again rising into the air and disporting themselves in the sun. At +night, too, they beheld about the ship trails of fire in the sea, +crossing and re-crossing each other, and the fire marked the ways of +huge blue fishes, swift and terrible; and the Sea-farers prayed that +these malignant searchers of the deep might not rise into the air and +fall ravening upon them while they slept. In the darkness strange +patches and tangles of light, blue and golden and emerald, floated past +them, and these they discovered were living creatures to which they +could give no names. Often also the sea was alive with fire, which +flashed and ran along the ridges of the waves when they curled and +broke, and many a night the sides of the ship were washed with flame, +but this fire was wet and cold, and nowise hurt a hand of those who +touched it. + + +At last on a clear morning the little chorister came hastily to +Serapion and said: "Look, father, is not yon a glimmer of the heavenly +land we seek?" + +"Nay, little son, it is but grey cloud that has not yet caught the +sun," replied Serapion. + +"That, indeed, is cloud; but look higher, father. See how white and +sharp it shines!" + +Then Serapion lifted up his eyes above the cloud, and in mid heaven +there floated as it were a great rock of pointed crystal, white and +unearthly. Serapion's eyes brightened with eagerness, and the +Sea-farers gazed long at the peak, which rather seemed a star, or a +headland on some celestial shore, so bright and dreamlike was it and so +magically poised in the high air. + +All day they sailed towards it, and sometimes it vanished from their +view, but it returned constantly. On the third day they came to that +land. Bright and beautiful it was to their sea-wearied eyes; and of a +surety no land is there that goes so nearly to heaven. For it rose in +green and flowery heights till it was lost in a ring of dusky +sea-cloud; and through this vast ring of cloud it pierced its way, and +the Sea-farers saw it emerge and stand clear above the cloud, bluish +with the distance. And higher still it rose, and entered a second +great cloud-ring, but this ring was white; and once more it emerged +from the cloud-ring, and high over all towered the pyramid of shining +stone. + +"Well might it be that Angels often alight on this soaring mountain," +said Serapion, "and leave it glittering with their footprints. If life +and strength be given us, thither we also shall climb, and praise God +in the lofty places of the earth which He has made." + +They steered the ship into a sunny bay, and Serapion having blessed the +sea and the shore, they landed right joyfully. Drawing the ship high +on the beach, they chose a little grove of palm-trees beside a shallow +stream for their church and cloister; but they had not been long in +that spot before they saw the islanders gliding through the wood and +peering out at them in great amaze. Serapion went forth to them, +smiling and beckoning them to approach, but they fled and would not +abide his coming. So Serapion returned, and the Sea-farers made +themselves such a home as they might, and rested a little from their +toiling. + +When the day had come to evening, and the brethren were chanting +vespers, the islanders returned, many hundreds of them, men and women, +dusky of skin but comely and bright-eyed, and for all their raiment +they wore garlands of blossoms and girdles of woven leaves. Close they +came to the Sea-farers, and gazed at them, and the boldest touched +them, as though to assure themselves that these were living mortals +like unto themselves. But when they saw the little chorister, with his +fair white face and childish blue eyes and sunny hair, they turned to +each other with exclamations and uncouth gestures of pleasure and +wonderment. Then they hurried away and brought strange and delightful +fruit--berries, and fruit in a skin yellow and curved like a sickle +moon, and big nuts full of water sweet and cool, and these they laid +before the lad. Wreaths of flowers, too, they wove for him, and put +them on his head and about his neck, as though they were rejoiced to +see him and could not make too much of him. The brethren were light of +heart that they had come to an isle so gracious and a folk so simple +and loving. + +Sleep, sweet as dews of Paradise, fell upon their weariness that night, +and they rose refreshed and glad for matins, which they chanted by the +light of large and radiant stars flashing down through the palms. What +happened that day, however, the Sea-farers did not wholly understand +till long afterwards, when they had learned the speech of the people; +but out of their later knowledge I shall here make it plain. + +Now in the olden time the mighty mountain of this island had been a +burning mountain, and even now, in a huge craggy cup beneath the +glittering peak, there was a vast well of fire and molten rock; and the +peak and well were the lair of an evil spirit so strong and terrible +that each year the island folk gave him a child to appease him, lest in +his malignant mood he should let the well overflow and consume them +with its waters of fire. + +Wherefore, as this was the season of the sacrifice, the islanders +seeing the little chorister, how fair and beautiful he was, deemed he +would be a more acceptable offering to the spirit of evil than one of +their children, whom they were heart-sick of slaying. On this day, +therefore, they came at dawn, and with many gestures and much strange +speech led away the lad, and with gentle force kept the brethren apart +from him, though they suffered them to follow. + +In a little while the child was clothed with flowers and leaves like +one of themselves, and in the midst of a great crowd singing a +barbarous strain, he was borne on a litter of boughs up the ascent of +the mountain. Many times they paused and rested in the heat, and the +day was far spent when they reached the foot of the lofty peak. There +they passed the night, but though the brethren strove to force their +way to the lad, they were restrained by the strength of the multitude, +and they knew that violence was useless. Again in the twilight before +dawn the islanders resumed the journey and came to the edge of the +craggy cup, in the depths of which bubbled the well of fire. + +Silently they stood on the brink, looking towards the east; but the +Sea-farers, who now deemed only too well that their little brother was +about to be sacrificed to Moloch, cast themselves on their knees, and +with tears running down their faces, raised their hands in supplication +to heaven. But with a loud voice Serapion cried: "Fear not, dear son; +for the Lord can save thee from the mouth of the lion, and hear thee +from the horns of the unicorns." The little chorister answered: "Pray +for my soul, Father Serapion; for my body I have no fear, even though +they cast me into the pit." + +In the streaming east the rays of light were springing ever more +brilliantly over the clear sea; two strong men held the lad and lifted +him from the ground; an aged islander--a priest, it seemed, of that +evil spirit--white-haired and crowned with flowers, watched the sky +with dull eyes; and as the sun came up with a rush of splendour, he +called aloud: "God of the mountain-fire, take this life we give thee, +and be good and friendly to us." + +Then was little Ambrose the chorister swung twice to and fro, and +hurled far out into the rocky cup of the well of fire. And a wild cry +arose from the crowd: "Take this life, take this life!"--but even as +that cry was being uttered the lad was stayed in his fall, and he stood +on the air over the fiery well, as though the air had been turned to +solid crystal, and he ran on the air across the abyss to the brethren, +and Serapion caught him in his arms and folded him to his breast. + +Then fell a deep stillness and dread upon the people, and what to do +they knew not; but the aged priest and the strong men who had flung the +boy into the gulf came to the brethren, and casting themselves on their +faces before the chorister, placed his foot on their heads. Wherefore +Serapion surmised that they now took him for a youthful god or spirit +more powerful than the evil spirit of the fire. Touching them, he +signed to them to arise, and when they stood erect he pointed to the +abyss, and gathering a handful of dust he threw it despitefully into +the well of fire, and afterwards spat into the depths. This show of +scorn and contumely greatly overawed the people, and (as was made known +afterwards) they looked on the Sea-farers as strong gods, merciful and +much to be loved. + +Thrice did the Sea-farers hold Easter in that island, for there they +resolved to stay till they had learned the island speech, and freed the +people from the bondage of demons, and taught them the worship of the +one God who is in the heavens. + +Now though the wind blew with an icy mouth on that high peak, in the +rocks of the crater it was sheltered, and warm because of the inner +fires of the mountain. So it was ordered that in turn one brother +should abide on the peak, and one in a cave midway down the mountain, +and one on the slopes where the palms and orange-trees are rooted among +the white-flowered sweet-scented broom. And each of these had a great +trumpet of bark, and when the first ray of light streamed out of the +east in the new day, the brother of the peak cried through his trumpet +with a mighty voice: + + _Laudetur Jesus Christus,_ + _May Christ Jesus be praised,_ + +and the brother of the cave, having responded, + + _In saecula saeculorum,_ + _World without end,_ + +cried mightily to the brother of the palms, "May Christ Jesus be +praised!"--and thus from the heights in the heavens to the shore of the +sea. So, too, when the last light of the setting sun burned out on the +western billows. + +Thus was the reign of the spirit of evil abolished, and the mountain +consecrated to the praise of Him who made the hills and the isles of +the sea. + +In the strong light of the morning sun the shadow of that mountain is +cast over the great sea of ocean further than a swift ship may sail +with a fair wind in two days and two nights; and a man placed on the +peak shall see that shadow suddenly rise up from the sea and stand over +against the mountain, dark and menaceful, like the lost soul of a +mountain bearing testimony against its body before the judgment-seat of +God; and this is a very awful sight. + +Now, having preached the Gospel, the Sea-farers strengthened their ship +and launched into the deep after the third Eastertide, and having +comforted the people, because they were grieved and mournful at their +departure, they left them in the keeping of the risen Lord, and +continued their seeking. + + +After this Brother Benedict, the oldest monk of their company, fell ill +with grievous sickness, and sorely the Sea-farers longed for some shore +where he might feel the good earth solid and at rest beneath him, and +see the green of growing things, and have the comfort of stillness and +silence. + +With astonishing patience he bore his malady, at no time repining, and +speaking never a word of complaint. When he was asked if he repented +him of the adventure, he smiled gently. "Fain, indeed," he said, +"would I be laid to rest beneath the grass of our own garth, where the +dear brethren, passing and repassing in the cloister, might look where +I lay and say an 'Our Father' for my soul. Yet in no way do I repent +of our sailing, for we have seen the marvellous works of God; and if +the Lord vouchsafe to be merciful to me, it may be that I shall see the +Heavenly Paradise before you find the Earthly." "God grant it, dear +brother," said Serapion. + +On an afternoon they came to a small island walled about with high +cliffs, red and brown, and at the foot of the cliffs a narrow beach of +ruddy sand; but on the rocks grew no green thing, lichen or moss or +grass or shrub, and no sweet water came bickering down into the sea. + +On landing they discovered a gully in the cliffs which led inland, and +straightway explorers were sent to spy what manner of land it was +whereon they had fallen. Within the very mouth of the narrow pass they +came upon a small ship hollowed out of a tree gigantic, but it was +rotten and dry as touchwood, and wasting into dust. Within the ship +lay the bones of a man, stretched out as though he had died in sleep. +Outside the ship lay the bones of two others. The faces of these were +turned downward to the stones whereon they lay, but the man in the ship +had perished with his eyes fixed on the heavens. The oars and sails +and ropes were all dry and crumbling, and the raiment of the men had +mouldered away. + +In the length of that narrow pass between the lofty cliff-walls the +Sea-farers found no vestige of grass or weed, either on the cliff-sides +or on the stones and shingle. Neither was there any water, save where +in the hollows of some of the boulders rain had lodged and had not yet +been drunk up by the sun. No living creature, great or small, lived in +that ghyll. + +Within the round of the sea-walls the island lay flat and low, and it +was one bleak waste of boulder and shingle, lifeless and waterless save +for the rain in the pitted surfaces of the stones; but in the midst of +the waste there stood, dead and leafless, a vast gaunt tree, which at +one time must have been a goodly show. When the Sea-farers reached it, +they found lying on the dead turf about its roots the white bones of +yet four other men. + +Much they questioned and conjectured whence these ill-starred wanderers +had come to lay their bones on so uncharitable a soil, and whether they +had perished in seeking, like themselves, for the Earthly Paradise. +"What," sighed one, "if this were the Earthly Paradise, and yon the +Tree of Life!" But the others murmured and would not have it so. + +Yet to the sick man even this Isle of the Stones of Emptiness was a +place of rest and respite from the sea,--"It is still mother-earth," he +said, "though the mother be grown very old and there be no flesh left +on her bones"--and at first it seemed as though he was recovering in +the motionless stillness and in the great shadow of the cliffs. +Something of this Serapion said to the little chorister, but the lad +answered: "Nay, father, do you not see how the man that used to look +out of his eyes has become a very little child--and of such is the +kingdom of heaven?" + +"Explain, little brother," said Serapion. + +"Why," said the lad, "is it not thus with men when they grow so old or +sick that they be like to die--does one not see that the real selves +within them look out of window with faces grown younger and smaller and +more joyous, till it may be that what was once a strong man, wise and +great, is but a babbling babe which can scarce walk at all?" + +"Who told thee these things?" asked Serapion. + +"No one has told me," replied the lad, "but seeing the little children +thus gazing out, and knowing that all who would enter into heaven must +become as they are, I thought it must needs be in this manner that +people change and pass away to God when the ending of life is come." + +On this isle the Sea-farers kept a Christmas, and they made such cheer +as they might at that blessed time, speaking of the stony fields +wherein the Shepherds lay about their flocks, but no fields were ever +so stony as these which were littered with stones fathom-deep, with +never a grain of earth or blade of grass between. And in this isle it +was that Brother Benedict died, very peaceful, and without pain at the +close. On the feast of the Three Kings that poor monk was privileged +even more than those Kings had been, for not only was the Babe of +Heaven made manifest to him, but his soul, a little child, went forth +from him to be with that benign Babe for evermore. Under the dead tree +the Sea-farers buried him, and on the trunk of the tree they fastened a +crucifix on the side on which he reposed. + +The bones, too, of the dead men they gathered together and covered with +stones in a hollow which they made. + +So they left the island, marvelling whence all those stones had come, +and how they had been rained many and deep on that one place. Said +one, "It may be that these are the stones wherewith our Lord and the +prophets and the blessed martyrs were stoned, laid up as in a treasury +to bear witness on the day of doom." "It may be," said another, "that +these are the stones which Satan, tempting the Lord, bade Him turn into +bread, and therefore are they kept for an evidence against the +tempter." "Peradventure these be the stony places," said another, +"whereon the good seed fell and perished in its first upspringing, and +so they be kept for the admonishment of rash Sea-farers and such as +have no long-continuance in well-doing." But no man among them was +satisfied as to the mystery of that strange isle. + + +On many other shores they set foot. Most were fruitful and friendly; +and they rested from their seeking, and repaired the ship, and took in +such stores as they might gather during their sojourn. Though often it +befell that while they were still afar the wind wafted them the +fragrance of rare spices so that their eyes brightened and their faces +reddened with joyful anticipation, yet ever when they landed they found +that not yet, not yet had they reached the island garden of their +quest. Men, too, of the same fashion as themselves they met with on +shores far apart, but strange were these of aspect and speech and +manner of life. With them they tarried as long as they might, gaining +some knowledge of their tongue, and revealing to them the true God and +the Lord crucified. + + +In the latter time of their sea-faring they were blown far over the +northern side of the great sea, in such wise that the pilot star burned +well-nigh overhead in the heavens. Here they descried tall islands of +glittering rock, white and blue, crowned with minsters and castles and +abbeys of glass, but they heard no sound of bells or of men's voices or +of the stir of life. + +Once as they were swept along in near peril of wreck, through flying +sea-smoke and plagues of hail, they heard a strange unearthly music +rising and falling in the blast. Some said it was Angels sent to +strengthen them; others said it was wild birds which they had seen +flying past in flocks; but Serapion said, "If it be Angels, blessed be +God; if it be birds, yet even they are God's Angels, lessoning us how +we shall praise Him, and sing Him a new song from the ends of the +earth." Then he raised his voice, singing the psalm + + _Laudate Dominum de caelis,_ + _Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise Him in the heights,_ + +and the Sea-farers sang it with earnest voices and with hearts lifted +up, and they were greatly encouraged. + + +It was in these latitudes stormy and cold that, to their thinking, the +Sea-farers won nearest to the Earthly Paradise. For, far in the sides +of the north as, in the red sunlight, they coasted a lofty land white +with snow-fields and blue with glacier ice, they entered a winding +fjord, and found themselves in glassy water slumbering between green +slopes of summer. + +Down to the water's edge the shores were wooded with copses of dwarf +birch and willow, and the slopes were radiant with wild +flowers--harebell and yellow crowfoot, purple heath and pink azalea and +starry saxifrage. A rosy light tinged the snow on the wintry heights; +and over the edge of a cliff, far up the fjord, a glacier hung, and +from beneath the ice a jet of water burst forth and fell foaming down +the precipice to the shore. When they landed they found the ground +covered thick with berries dark and luscious, and while they gathered +these, a black and white snow-bunting flitted about them on its long +wings. + +A miraculous thing was this garden of summer in the icy bosom of +winter, but a greater marvel still was the undying sunshine on sea and +shore. + +"In very truth," said Serapion, "of all places we have yet seen is not +this most like to have been the blessed land, for is not even 'the +night light about us,' and is it not with us as it is written of the +Heavenly Jerusalem, 'there shall be no night there'?" + +The Sea-farers took away with them many of the leaves and flowers of +this country, and afterwards the scribes in the Scriptorium copied them +in beautiful colours in the Golden Missal of the Abbey. + + +This was the last of the unknown shores visited by the Sea-farers. +Seven years had they pursued their seeking, and there now grew on them +so strong a craving for home that they could gainsay it no longer. +Wherefore it fell out that in the autumn-tide, when the stubble is +brown in the fields and the apple red on the bough; on the last day of +the week, when toil comes to end; in the last light of the day, when +the smoke curls up from the roof, they won their long sea-way home. + +[Illustration: _They won their long sea-way home_] + +O beloved Abbey of the Holy Face, through tears they beheld thy walls, +with rapture they kissed thy threshold! + + +"In all the great sea of ocean," said Serapion, when he had told the +story of their wandering, "no such Earthly Paradise have we seen as +this dear Abbey of our own!" + +"Dear brethren," said the Abbot, "the seven years of your seeking have +not been wasted if you have truly learned so much. Far from home have +I never gone, but many things have come to me. To be ever, and to be +tranquilly, and to be joyously, and to be strenuously, and to be +thankfully and humbly at one with the blessed will of God--that is the +Heavenly Paradise; and each of us, by God's grace, may have that within +him. And whoso hath within him the Heavenly Paradise, hath here and +now, and at all times and in every place, the true Earthly Paradise +round about him." + +Here ends the chapter of the Seven Years of Seeking. + + +["But do Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us," chanted the Lector, as he +closed the book. And the Prior struck the board, and the brethren +arose and returned God thanks for the creatures of food and drink, and +for that Earthly Paradise, ever at their door, of tranquil and joyous +and strenuous and thankful and humble acceptance of God's will.] + + + + +The Guardians of the Door + +There was once an orphan girl, far away in a little village on the edge +of the moors. She lived in a hovel thatched with reeds, and this was +the poorest and the last of all the houses, and stood quite by itself +among broom and whins by the wayside. + +From the doorway the girl could look across the wild stretches of the +moorland; and that was pleasant enough on a summer day, for then the +air is clear and golden, and the moor is purple with the bloom of the +ling, and there are red and yellow patches of bracken, and here and +there a rowan tree grows among the big grey boulders with clusters of +reddening berries. But at night, and especially on a winter night, the +darkness was so wide and so lonely that it was hard not to feel afraid +sometimes. The wind, when it blew in the dark, was full of strange and +mournful voices; and when there was no wind, Mary could hear the cries +and calls of the wild creatures on the moor. + +Mary was fourteen when she lost her father. He was a rough idle +good-for-nothing, and one stormy night on his way home from the tavern +he went astray and was found dead in the snow. Her mother had died +when she was so small a child that Mary could scarcely remember her +face. So it happened that she was left alone in the world, and all she +possessed was a dog, some fowls, and her mother's spinning wheel. + +But she was a bright, cheerful, courageous child, and soon she got from +the people of the village sufficient work to keep her wheel always +busy, for no one could look into her face without liking her. People +often wondered how so rude and worthless a fellow could have had such a +child; she was as sweet and unexpected as the white flowers on the bare +and rugged branches of the blackthorn. + +Her hens laid well, and she sold all the eggs she could spare; and her +dog, which had been trained in all sorts of cunning by her father, +often brought her from the moors some wild thing in fur or feathers +which Mary thought there was no harm in cooking. + +Her father had been too idle and careless to teach her anything, and +all that she could recollect of her mother's instruction was a little +rhyme which she used to repeat on her knees beside the bed every night +before she went to sleep. + +And this was the rhyme: + + _God bless this house from thatch to floor,_ + _The twelve Apostles guard the door,_ + _And four good Angels watch my bed,_ + _Two at the foot and two the head._ + _Amen._ + +[Illustration: "_And four good Angels watch my bed_"] + +Though she was all alone in the world, and had no girl of her own age +to make friends with, she was happy and contented, for she was busy +from morning till night. + +And yet in spite of all this, strange stories began to be whispered +about the village. People who happened to pass by the old hut late at +night declared that they had seen light shining through the chinks in +the window-shutter when all honest people should have been asleep. +There were others who said they had noticed strange men standing in the +shadows of the eaves; they might have been highwaymen, they might have +been smugglers--they could not tell, for no one had cared to run the +risk of going too near--but it was quite certain that there were +strange things going on at the hut, and that the girl who seemed so +simple and innocent was not quite so good as the neighbours had +imagined. + +When the village gossip had reached the ears of the white-headed old +Vicar, he sent for the girl and questioned her closely. Mary was +grieved to learn that such untrue and unkind stories were told about +her. She knew nothing, she said, of any lights or of any men. As soon +as it was too dusky to see to work she always fastened her door, and +after she had had her supper, she covered the fire and blew out the +rushlight and went to bed. + +"And you say your prayers, my daughter, I hope?" said the Vicar kindly. + +Mary hung down her head and answered in a low voice, "I do not know any +proper prayers, but I always say the words my mother taught me." + +And Mary repeated the rhyme: + + _God bless this house from thatch to floor,_ + _The twelve Apostles guard the door,_ + _And four good Angels watch my bed,_ + _Two at the foot and two the head._ + _Amen._ + + +"There could not be a better prayer, dear child!" rejoined the Vicar, +with a smile. "Go home now, and do not be troubled by what idle +tongues may say. Every night repeat your little prayer, and God will +take care of you." + +Late that night, however, the Vicar lit his lantern and went out of +doors, without a word to any one. All the village was still and dark +as he walked slowly up the road towards the moor. + +"She is a good girl," he said to himself, "but people may have observed +something which has given rise to these stories. I will go and see +with my own eyes." + +The stars were shining far away in the dark sky, and the green plovers +were crying mournfully on the dark moor. As he passed along the +lantern swung out a dim light across the road, which had neither walls +nor hedges. + +"It is a lonely place for a child to live in by herself," he thought. + +At last he perceived the outline of the old hovel, among the gorse and +broom, and the next moment he stopped suddenly, for there, as he had +been told, a thread of bright light came streaming through the shutters +of the small window. He drew his lantern under his cloak, and +approached cautiously. The road where he stood was now dim, but by the +faint glimmer of the stars he was able to make out that there were +several persons standing under the eaves, and apparently whispering +together. + +The Vicar's good old heart was filled with surprise and sorrow. Then +it suddenly grew hot with anger, and throwing aside his cloak and +lifting up the lantern he advanced boldly to confront the intruders. +But they were not at all alarmed, and they did not make any attempt to +escape him. Then, as the light fell upon their forms and faces, who +but the Vicar was struck with awe and amazement, and stood gazing as +still as a stone! + +The people under the eaves were men of another age and another world, +strangely clothed in long garments, and majestic in appearance. One +carried a lance, and another a pilgrim's staff, and a third a +battle-axe; but the most imposing stood near the door of the hut, and +in his hand he held two large keys. + +In an instant the Vicar had guessed who they were, and had uncovered +his head and fallen on his knees; but the strangers melted slowly away +into the darkness, as if they had been no more than the images of a +dream. And indeed the Vicar might have thought that he really had been +dreaming but for the light which continued to stream through the chink +in the shutter. + +He arose from his knees and moved towards the window to peep into the +hut. Instantly an invisible hand stretched a naked sword across his +path, and a low deep voice spoke to him in solemn warning: + +"It is the light of Angels. Do not look, or blindness will fall upon +you, even as it fell upon me on the Damascus road." + +But the aged Vicar laid his hand on the sword, and tried to move it +away. + +"Let me look, let me look!" he said; "better one glimpse of the Angels +than a thousand years of earthly sight." + +Then the sword yielded to his touch and vanished into air, and the old +priest leaned forward on the window-sill and gazed through the chink. +And with a cry of joy he saw a corner of the rude bed, and beside the +corner, one above the other, three great dazzling wings; they were the +left-hand side wings of one of the Angels at the foot of the bed. + +Then all was deep darkness. + +The Vicar thought that it was the blindness that had fallen upon him, +but the only regret he felt was that the vision had vanished so +quickly. Then, as he turned away, he found that not only had he not +lost his sight, but that he could now see with a marvellous clearness. +He saw the road, and even the foot-prints and grains of sand on the +road; the hut, and the reeds on the hut; the moor, and the boulders and +the rowan-trees on the moor. Everything was as distinct as if it had +been--not daylight, but as if the air were of the clear colour of a +nut-brown brook in summer. + +Praising God for all His goodness he returned home, and as he went he +looked back once and again and yet again, and each time he saw the +twelve awful figures in strange clothing, guarding the lonely thatched +hovel on the edge of the moor. + +After this there were no more stories told of Mary, and no one even +dared speak to her of the wonderful manner in which her prayer was +answered, so that she never knew what the old Vicar had seen. But late +at night people would rather go a great way round than take the road +which passed by her poor hut. + + + + +On the Shores of Longing + +It was in the old forgotten days when all the western coast of Spain +was sprinkled with lonely hermitages among the rocks, and with holy +houses and towers of prayer; and this west coast was thought to be the +last and outermost edge of all land, for beyond there lay nothing but +the vast ocean stream and the sunset. There, in the west of the world, +on the brink of the sea and the lights of the day that is done, lived +the men of God, looking for ever towards the east for the coming of the +Lord. Even the dead were laid in the place of their resurrection with +their feet pointing to the morning, so that when they should arise +their faces would be turned towards His coming. Thus it came to pass +that the keen white wind out of the east was named the wind of the dead +men's feet. + +Now in one or these holy houses lived the monk Bresal of the Songs, who +had followed Sedulius the Bishop into Spain. + +Bresal had been sent thither to teach the brethren the music of the +choirs of the Isle of the Gael and to train the novices in chant and +psalmody, for of all singers the sweetest was he, and he could play on +every instrument of wind or string, and was skilled in all the modes of +minstrelsy. Thereto he knew by heart numberless hymns and songs and +poems, and God had given him the gift to make songs and hymns, and +beautiful airs for the singing of them. And for these things, so sweet +and gentle was the nature of the man, he was greatly beloved +whithersoever he fared. + +A happy and holy life had he lived, but now he was growing old; and as +he looked from the convent on the cliffs far over the western waters, +he thought daily more and more of Erinn, and a great longing grew upon +him to see once more that green isle in which he had been born. And +when he saw, far below, the ships of the sea-farers dragging slowly +away into the north in the breezy sunshine or in the blue twilight, his +eyes became dim with the thought that perchance these wind-reddened +mariners might be steering for the shores of his longing. + +The Prior of the convent noticed his sadness and questioned him of the +cause, and when Bresal told him, "Why should you go?" he asked. "Do +you not love us any longer?" + +"Dearly do I love you, father," replied Bresal, "and dearly this house, +and every rock and tree and flower; but no son of the Isle of the Gael +forgets the little mother-lap of earth whereon he was nursed, or the +smell of the burning peat, or the song of the robin, or the drone of +the big mottled wild bee, or the cry of the wild geese when the winter +is nigh. Even Columba the holy pined for the lack of these things. +This is what he says in one of the songs which he has left us: + + _There's an eye of grey_ + _Looks back to Erinn far away;_ + _Big tears wet that eye of grey_ + _Seeking Erinn far away."_ + +Now the Prior loved Bresal as Jonathan loved David; and though it +grieved him to part with him, he resolved that if it could be compassed +Bresal should go back to his own country. "But you must never forget +us, and when you are happy, far away from us, you must think of us and +give us your heart in prayer." + +"Never shall I forget you, father," the Singer replied. "Indeed, it +will not be a strange thing if I shall long for you then even as I am +longing for my home now; for in truth, next to my home, most do I love +the brethren of this house, and the very house itself, and the hills +and the sea and the dying lights of the evening. But I know that it +will not be permitted me ever to return. The place of my birth will be +the place of my resurrection." + +The Prior smiled, and laid his hand gently on the monk's shoulder: "O +Bresal, if it be within my power you shall have your will." + +So he sent messengers to Sedulius the Bishop; and Sedulius, who also +had the Irish heart with its tears of longing, consented; and not many +days after the swallows and martins had gone flashing by into the +north, Bresal of the Songs was free to follow as speedily as he might. + +Long was the way and weary the pilgrimage, but at last he reached the +beloved green Isle of the Gael, and fared into the south-west--and this +is the land in which it is told that Patrick the Saint celebrated Mass +on every seventh ridge he passed over. He came at sunset on the last +day of the week to the place of bells and cells among the rocks of the +coast of Kerry. In that blessed spot there is ever a service of Angels +ascending and descending. And when he saw once more the turf dyke and +the wattled cells and the rude stone church of the brotherhood where he +had been a son of reading in his boyhood, and the land all quiet with +the labour of the week done, and the woods red with the last light of +the finished day, the tears ran down his face, and he fell on the earth +and kissed it for joy at his return. It was a glad thing for him to be +there once more; to recognise each spot he had loved, to look on the +old stones and trees, the hills and sparkling sea, the rocky isle and +the curraghs of the fisher-folk; to smell the reek of the peat curling +up blue in the sweet air; for all these things had haunted him in +dreams when he was in a distant land. + +Now when the first hunger of longing had been appeased, and the year +wore round, and the swallows gathered in the autumn, and every bush and +tree was crowded with them while they waited restlessly for a moonlight +night and a fair wind to take their flight over sea, Bresal began to +think tenderly of the home on the Spanish cliffs overhanging the brink +of the sunset. + +Then in the brown days of the autumn rains; and again in the keen +November when the leaves were falling in sudden showers--but the +highest leaves clung the longest--and puffs of whirling wind set the +fallen leaves flying, and these were full of sharp sounds and pattering +voices; and sixes of sparrows went flying with the leaves so that one +could not well say which were leaves and which were birds; and yet +again through the bitter time when the eaves were hung with icicles and +the peaks of the blue slieves were white with snow, and the low hills +and fields were hoary--the memory of the Prior and of the beloved house +prevailed with him and he felt the dull ache of separation. + +[Illustration: _And again in the keen November_] + +As the days passed by his trouble grew the greater, for he began to +fear that his love of the creature was attaching him too closely to the +earth and to the things of this fleeting life of our exile. In vain he +fasted and prayed and strove to subdue his affections; the human heart +within him would not suffer him to rest. + + +Now it happened on a day when the year had turned, and a soft wind was +tossing the little new leaves and the shadows of the leaves and the new +grass and the shadows of the grass, Bresal was sitting on a rock in the +sun on the hillside. + +Suddenly there flashed by him, in a long swift joyous swing of flight, +two beautiful birds with long wings and forked tails and a sheen of red +and green. It was the swallows that had returned. + +For a moment he felt an ascension of the heart, and then he recollected +that nearly a year had elapsed since he had seen the face of his friend +the Prior for the last time in this world. And he wondered to himself +how they all fared, whether any one had died, what this one or that was +now doing, whether they still spoke at times of him, but chiefly he +thought of the Prior, and he prayed for him with a great love. And +thinking thus as he sat on the rock, Bresal seemed to see once more the +dear house in Spain and the cliffs overlooking the vast ocean stream, +and it appeared to him as though he were once again in a favourite nook +among the rocks beside the priory. + +In that nook a thread of water trickled down into a hollow stone and +made a little pool, and around the pool grew an ice-plant with thick +round green leaves set close and notched on the edge, and a thin russet +stalk, and little stars of white flowers sprinkled with red. And hard +by the pool stood a small rounded evergreen tree from which he had +often gathered the orange-scarlet berries. At the sight of these +simple and familiar things the tears ran down Bresal's cheeks, half for +joy and half for sorrow. + + +Now at this selfsame moment the Prior was taking the air and saying his +office near that very spot, and when he had closed his breviary, he +remembered his friend in Erinn far away, and murmured, "How is it, +Lord, with Bresal my brother? Have him, I pray Thee, ever in Thy holy +keeping." + +As he spoke the gift of heavenly vision descended on the Prior, and he +saw where Bresal sat on a rock in the sun gazing at the evergreen tree +and the ice-plant about the little pool, and he perceived that Bresal +fancied he was looking at these things. + +A great tenderness for Bresal filled the Prior's heart, and he prayed: +"Lord, if it be Thy holy will, let Bresal my brother have near him +these things of which he is dreaming, as a remembrance of what his soul +loveth." Then, turning to the tree and the plant and the pool, he +blessed them and said: "O little tree and starry plant and cool well +and transparent fern, and whatsoever else Bresal now sees, arise in the +name of the Lord of the four winds and of earth and water and fire, +arise and go and make real the dream that he is dreaming." + +As he spoke the trickling water and the tree and the saxifrage, and +with them parcels of soil and rock, and with the pool the blue light of +the sky reflected in it, rose like a cloud and vanished, and the Prior +beheld them no more. + + +At last Bresal brushed away his tears, blaming his weakness and his +enslavement to earthly affections, but the things he had seen in his +happy day-dream did not vanish. To his great amazement, there at his +feet were the little pool and the ice-plant, and hard by grew the +evergreen tree. He rose with a cry of joy, "O Father Prior, 'tis thy +prayer hath done this!" + +And care was lifted from him, for now he knew that in his human love he +had in nowise sinned against the love of God, but contrariwise the love +of his friend had drawn him closer to the love of his Maker. During +all the days of the years of his exile this little parcel of Spain was +a solace and a strength to him. + + +Many a hundred years has gone by since this happened, but still if you +travel in that land you may see the ice-plant and the evergreen tree. +And the name of the evergreen is the Strawberry Tree. The ice-plant, +which is also called a saxifrage, may now be seen in many a garden to +which it has been brought from the Kerry mountains, and it is known as +London Pride. Botanists who do not know the story of Bresal of the +Songs have been puzzled to explain how a Spanish tree and a Spanish +flower happen to grow in one little nook of Erinn. + + + + +The Children of Spinalunga + +The piazza or square in front of the Cathedral was the only open space +in which the children of Spinalunga had room to play. Spinalunga means +a Long Spine or Ridge of rock, and the castello or little walled town +which bore that name was built on the highest peak of the ridge, inside +strong brown stone walls with square towers. So rough and steep was +this portion of the ridge that the crowded houses, with their red roofs +and white gables, were piled up one behind another, and many of the +streets were narrow staircases, climbing up between the houses to the +blue sky. + +On the top the hill was flat, and there the Cathedral stood, and from +her niche above the great west entrance the beautiful statue of the +Madonna with the Babe in her arms looked across the square, and over +the huddled red roofs, and far away out to the hills and valleys with +their evergreen oaks and plantations of grey olives, and bright +cornfields and vineyards. + +On three sides the town was sheltered by hills, but a very deep ravine +separated them from the ridge, so that on those three sides it was +impossible for an enemy to attack the town. On the nearest hills great +pine woods grew far up the slopes, and sheltered it from the east winds +which blew over the snowy peaks. + +Now on the southern side of the square stood the houses of the Syndic +and other wealthy citizens, with open colonnades of carved yellow +stone; and all about the piazza at intervals there were orange-trees +and pomegranates, growing in huge jars of red earthenware. + +This had been the children's playground as long as any one could +remember, but in the days of the blessed Frate Agnolo the Syndic was a +grim, childless, irascible old man, terribly plagued with gout, which +made him so choleric that he could not endure the joyous cries and +clatter of the children at their play. So at last in his irritation he +gave orders that, if the children must play at all, it would have to be +in their own dull narrow alleys paved with hard rock, or outside beyond +the walls of the castello. For their part the youngsters would have +been glad enough to escape into the green country among the broom and +cypress, the red snapdragon and golden asters and blue pimpernels, but +these were wild and dangerous times, and at any moment a troop of +Free-lances from Pisa or a band of Lucchese raiders might have swept +down and carried them off into captivity. + +They had therefore to sit about their own doors, and the piazza of the +Cathedral became strangely silent in the summer evenings, and there was +a feeling of dulness and discontent in the little town. Never a whit +better off was the Syndic, for he was now angry with the stillness and +the deserted look of the square. + +In the midst of this trouble the blessed Brother Agnolo came down from +his hermitage among the pine woods, and when he heard of what had taken +place, he went straightway to the Syndic and took him to task, with +soft and gracious words. + +"Messer Gianni, pain I know will often take all sweetness out of the +temper of a man, but in this you are not doing well. There is no child +in Spinalunga but would readily forego all his happy play to give you +ease and solace, but in this way they cannot help you. By sending them +away you do but cloud their innocent lives, and you are yourself none +the better for their absence. Were it not wiser for you to seek to +distract yourself in their harmless merry-making? I may well think +that you have never watched them at their sports; but if you will bid +them come back to-day, and will but walk a little way with me, you +shall see that which shall give you content and delight so great, that +never again will you wish to banish them, but will rather pray to have +their companionship at all times." + +Now the Frate so prevailed on the Syndic that he gave consent, and bade +all the children, lass and lad, babe and prattler, come to the square +for their games as they used to do. And leaning with one hand on his +staff, and with the other on the shoulder of Brother Agnolo, he moved +slowly through the fruit-trees in the great jars to the steps of the +Cathedral. + +Suddenly the joy-bells began to ring, and the little people came +laughing and singing and shouting from the steep streets and staircases +and alleys, and they raced and danced into the piazza like Springtime +let loose, and they chased each other, and caught hands and played in +rings, and swarmed among the jars, as many and noisy as swallows when +they gather for their flight over sea in the autumn-tide. + +"Look well, Messer Gianni," said the Frate, "and perceive who it is +that shares their frolics." + +As the Brother spoke the eyes of the Syndic were opened; and there, +with each little child, was his Angel, clothed in white, and +white-winged; and as the little folk contended together, their Angels +contended with each other; and as they ran and danced and sang, so ran +and danced and sang their Angels. Which was the laughter of the +children, and which that of the Angels, the Syndic could not tell; and +when the plump two-year-olds tottered and tumbled, their Angels caught +them and saved them from hurt; and even if they did weep and make a +great outcry, it was because they were frightened, not because they +were injured, and straightway they had forgotten what ailed them and +were again merrily trudging about. + +In the midst of this wonderful vision of young Angels and bright-eyed +children mingling so riotously together, the Syndic heard an +inexpressibly joyous laugh behind him. Turning his head, he saw that +it was the little marble Babe in the arms of the Madonna. He was +clapping his hands, and had thrown back his head against his mother's +bosom in sudden delight. + +Did the Syndic truly see this? He was certain he did--for a moment; +and yet in that same moment he knew that the divine Babe was once more +a babe of stone, with its sweet grave face and unconscious eyes; and +when the Syndic turned again to watch the children, it was only the +children he saw; the Angels were no longer visible. + +"It is not always given to our sinful eyes to see them," said Brother +Agnolo, answering the Syndic's thought, "but whether we see them or see +them not, always they are there." + + +Now it was in the autumn of the same year that the fierce captain of +Free-lances, the Condottiere Ghino, appeared one moonlight night before +the gates of Spinalunga, and bade the guard open in the name of Pisa. + +As I have said, the little hill-town could only be attacked on the +western side, on account of the precipitous ravine which divided it +from the hills; but the ridge before the gate was crowded with eight +hundred horsemen and two thousand men-at-arms clamouring to be +admitted. Nothing daunted, the garrison on the square towers cried +back a defiance; the war-bell was sounded; and the townspeople, men and +women, hurried down to defend the walls. + +After the first flight of arrows and quarrels the Free-lances fell back +out of bowshot, and encamped for the night, but the hill-men remained +on the watch till daybreak. Early in the morning Ghino himself rode up +the ascent with a white flag, and asked for a parley with the Syndic. + +"We are from Pisa," said the Condottiere; "Florence is against us; this +castello we must hold for our safety. If with your good-will, well and +good!" + +"We are bound by our loyalty to Florence," replied the Syndic briefly. + +"The sword cuts all bonds," said the Free-lance, with a laugh; "but we +would gladly avoid strife. Throw in your lot with us. All we ask is a +pledge that in the hour of need you will not join Florence against us." + +"What pledge do you ask?" inquired the Syndic. + +"Let twenty of your children ride back with us to Pisa," said the +Free-lance. "These shall answer for your fidelity. They shall be +cherished and well cared for during their sojourn." + +Who but Messer Gianni was the angry man on hearing this? + +"Our children!" he cried; "are we, then, slaves, that we must needs +send you our little ones as hostages? Guards, here! Shoot me down +this brigand who bids me surrender your children to him!" + +Bolts flew whizzing from the cross-bows; the Free-lance shook his iron +gauntlet at the Syndic, and galloped down the ridge unharmed. The +Syndic forgot his gout in his wrath, and bade the hill-men hold their +own till their roofs crumbled about their ears. + +Then began a close siege of the castello; but on the fourth day Frate +Agnolo passed boldly through the lines of the enemy, and was admitted +through the massive stone gateway which was too narrow for the entrance +of either cart or waggon. Great was the joy of the hill-men as the +Brother appeared among them. He, they knew, would give them wise +counsel and stout aid in the moment of danger. + +When they told him of the pledge for which the besiegers asked, he only +smiled and shook his head. "Be of good cheer," he said, "God and His +Angels have us in their keeping." + +Thoughtfully he ascended the steep streets to the piazza, and, entering +the Cathedral, he remained there for a long while absorbed in prayer. +And as he prayed his face brightened with the look of one who hears +joyful news, and when he rose from his knees he went to the house of +the Syndic, and spoke with him long and seriously. + + +At sunset that day a man-at-arms went forth from the gates of the +castello with a white flag to the beleaguering lines, and demanded to +be taken into the presence of the captain. To him he delivered this +message from the Syndic: "To-morrow in the morning the gate of +Spinalunga will be thrown open, and all the children of our town who +are not halt or blind or ailing shall be sent forth. Come and choose +the twenty you would have as hostages." + +By the camp-fires that night the Free-lances caroused loud and long; +but in the little hill-town the children slept sound while the men and +women prayed with pale stern faces. An hour after midnight all the +garrison from the towers and all the strong young men assembled in the +square. They were divided into two bands, and were instructed to +descend cautiously by rope-ladders into the ravine on the eastern side +of the town. Thence without sound of tongue or foot they were to steal +through the darkness till they had reached certain positions on the +flanks of the besiegers, where they were to wait for the signal of +onset. Frate Agnolo gave each of them his blessing, as one by one they +slid over the wall on to the rope-ladders and disappeared in the +blackness of the ravine. Noiselessly they marched under the walls of +the town till they reached their appointed posts, and there they lay +hidden in the woods till morning. + +The Free-lances were early astir. As the first ray of golden light +streamed over the pine woods on to the ridge and the valley, the bells +of the Cathedral began to ring; the heavy gate of the castello was +flung open, and the children trooped out laughing and gay, just as they +had burst into the square a few months ago, for this, they were told, +was to be a great feast and holiday. As they issued through the deep +stone archway they filed to right or left, and drew up in long lines +across the width of the ridge. Then raising their childish voices in a +simple hymn, they all moved together down the rough slope to the lines +of the besiegers. Brother Agnolo, holding a plain wooden cross high +above his head, led the way, singing joyously. + +It was a wonderful sight in the clear shining air of the hills, and +hundreds of women weeping silently on the walls crowded together to +watch it; and as they watched they held their breath, for suddenly in +the golden light of the morning they saw that behind each child there +was a great white-winged Angel with a fiery spear. + +Then, as that throng of singing children and shining spirits swept down +upon the Free-lances, a wild cry of panic arose from the camp. The +eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay, and plunged through the ranks +of the men-at-arms, and the mercenaries fell back in terror and +confusion, striking each other down and trampling the wounded underfoot +in their frantic efforts to escape. At that moment the hill-men who +were lying in ambush on each flank bore down on the bewildered +multitude, and hacked and hewed right and left till the boldest and +hardiest of the horsemen broke and fled, leaving their dead and dying +on the field. + +[Illustration: _The eight hundred horsemen turned in dismay_] + +So the little hill-town of Spinalunga was saved by the children and +their Angels, and even to this day the piazza of the Cathedral is their +very own playground, in which no one can prevent them from playing all +the year round. + + + + +The Sin of the Prince Bishop + +The Prince Bishop Evrard stood gazing at his marvellous Cathedral; and +as he let his eyes wander in delight over the three deep sculptured +portals and the double gallery above them, and the great rose window, +and the ringers' gallery, and so up to the massive western towers, he +felt as though his heart were clapping hands for joy within him. And +he thought to himself, "Surely in all the world God has no more +beautiful house than this which I have built with such long labour and +at so princely an outlay of my treasure." And thus the Prince Bishop +fell into the sin of vainglory, and, though he was a holy man, he did +not perceive that he had fallen, so filled with gladness was he at the +sight of his completed work. + +[Illustration: "_Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful +house than this_"] + +In the double gallery of the west front there were many great statues +with crowns and sceptres, but a niche over the central portal was +empty, and this the Prince Bishop intended to fill with a statue of +himself. It was to be a very small simple statue, as became one who +prized lowliness of heart, but as he looked up at the vacant place it +gave him pleasure to think that hundreds of years after he was dead +people would pause before his effigy and praise him and his work. And +this, too, was vainglory. + +As the Prince Bishop lay asleep that night a mighty six-winged Angel +stood beside him and bade him rise. "Come," he said, "and I will show +thee some of those who have worked with thee in building the great +church, and whose service in God's eyes has been more worthy than +thine." And the Angel led him past the Cathedral and down the steep +street of the ancient city, and though it was midday, the people going +to and fro did not seem to see them. Beyond the gates they followed +the shelving road till they came to green level fields, and there in +the middle of the road, between grassy banks covered white with cherry +blossom, two great white oxen, yoked to a huge block of stone, stood +resting before they began the toilsome ascent. + +"Look!" said the Angel; and the Prince Bishop saw a little blue-winged +bird which perched on the stout yoke beam fastened to the horns of the +oxen, and sang such a heavenly song of rest and contentment that the +big shaggy creatures ceased to blow stormily through their nostrils, +and drew long tranquil breaths instead. + +"Look again!" said the Angel. And from a hut of wattles and clay a +little peasant girl came with a bundle of hay in her arms, and gave +first one of the oxen and then the other a wisp. Then she stroked +their black muzzles, and laid her rosy face against their white cheeks. +Then the Prince Bishop saw the rude teamster rise from his rest on the +bank and cry to his cattle, and the oxen strained against the beam and +the thick ropes tightened, and the huge block of stone was once more +set in motion. + +And when the Prince Bishop saw that it was these fellow-workers whose +service was more worthy in God's eyes than his own, he was abashed and +sorrowful for his sin, and the tears of his own weeping awoke him. So +he sent for the master of the sculptors and bade him fill the little +niche over the middle portal, not with his own effigy but with an image +of the child; and he bade him make two colossal figures of the white +oxen; and to the great wonderment of the people these were set up high +in the tower so that men could see them against the blue sky. "And as +for me," he said, "let my body be buried, with my face downward, +outside the great church, in front of the middle entrance, that men may +trample on my vainglory and that I may serve them as a stepping-stone +to the house of God; and the little child shall look on me when I lie +in the dust." + +Now the little girl in the niche was carved with wisps of hay in her +hands, but the child who had fed the oxen knew nothing of this, and as +she grew up she forgot her childish service, so that when she had grown +to womanhood and chanced to see this statue over the portal she did not +know it was her own self in stone. But what she had done was not +forgotten in heaven. + +And as for the oxen, one of them looked east and one looked west across +the wide fruitful country about the foot of the hill-city. And one +caught the first grey gleam, and the first rosy flush, and the first +golden splendour of the sunrise; and the other was lit with the colour +of the sunset long after the lowlands had faded away in the blue mist +of the twilight. Weary men and worn women looking up at them felt that +a gladness and a glory and a deep peace had fallen on the life of toil. +And then, when people began to understand, they said it was well that +these mighty labourers, who had helped to build the house, should still +find a place of service and honour in the house; and they remembered +that the Master of the house had once been a Babe warmed in a manger by +the breath of kine. And at the thought of this men grew more pitiful +to their cattle, and to the beasts in servitude, and to all dumb +animals. And that was one good fruit which sprang from the Prince +Bishop's repentance. + +Now over the colossal stone oxen hung the bells of the Cathedral. On +Christmas Eve the ringers, according to the old custom, ascended to +their gallery to ring in the birth of the Babe Divine. At the moment +of midnight the master ringer gave the word, and the great bells began +to swing in joyful sequence. Down below in the crowded church lay the +image of the new-born Child on the cold straw, and at His haloed head +stood the images of the ox and the ass. Far out across the snow-roofed +city, far away over the white glistening country rang the glad music of +the tower. People who went to their doors to listen cried in +astonishment: "Hark! what strange music is that? It sounds as if the +lowing of cattle were mingled with the chimes of the bells." In truth +it was so. And in every byre the oxen and the kine answered the +strange sweet cadences with their lowing, and the great stone oxen +lowed back to their kin of the meadow through the deep notes of the +joy-peal. + +In the fulness of time the Prince Bishop Evrard died and was buried as +he had willed, with his face humbly turned to the earth; and to this +day the weather-wasted figure of the little girl looks down on him from +her niche, and the slab over his grave serves as a stepping-stone to +pious feet. + + + + +The Little Bedesman of Christ + +This is the legend of Francis, the Little Bedesman of Christ. Seven +hundred years ago was he born in Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among +the rocks; and for twenty years and more he cherished but one thought, +and one desire, and one hope; and these were that he might lead the +beautiful and holy and sorrowful life which our Lord lived on the +earth, and that in every way he might resemble our Lord in the purity +and loveliness of His humanity. + +Home and wealth and honour he surrendered, and the love of a wife and +of little prattlers on his knees; for none of these things were the +portion of Christ. + +No care he took as to how he should be sheltered by night or wherewith +he should be clothed by day; and for meat and drink he looked to the +hand of God, for these were to be the daily gift of His giving. So +that when he heard the words of the sacred Gospel read in the little +church of St. Mary of the Angels--"Provide neither gold nor silver nor +brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, +neither shoes, nor yet staves"--he went out and girt his coarse brown +dress with a piece of cord, and cast away his shoes and went barefoot +thenceforth. + +Even to this day the brethren of the great Order of religious men which +he founded are thus clothed, and girt with a cord, and shod with +nakedness. And this Order is the Order of the Lesser Brethren, the +Fratres Minores; and often they are called Franciscans, or the Friars +of St. Francis. + +But as to the thought he bestowed on his eating and drinking: once when +he and Brother Masseo sat down on a broad stone near a fresh fountain +to eat the bread which they had begged in the town, St. Francis +rejoiced in their prosperity, saying, "Not only are we filled with +plenty, but our treasure is of God's own providing; for consider this +bread which has come to us like manna, and this noble table of stone +fit for the feasting of kings, and this well of bright water which is +beverage from heaven;" and he besought God to fill their hearts with an +ardent love of the affluence of holy poverty. + +[Illustration: _St. Francis of Assisi_] + +Even the quiet and blessed peace of the cloister and the hermitage he +denied himself; for he remembered that though the Lord Christ withdrew +into the hills and went into the wilderness to refresh His soul with +prayer and communion with His Heavenly Father, it was among the sons of +men that He had His dwelling all His days. So he, too, the Little +Bedesman, often tasted great happiness among the rocks and trees of +solitary places; and his spirit felt the spell of the lonely hills; and +he loved to pray in the woods, and in their shadow he was consoled by +the visits of Angels, and was lifted bodily from the earth in ecstasies +of joy. But the work which he had set his hands to do was among men, +and in villages and the busy streets of cities. + + +It was not in the first place to save their own souls and to attain to +holiness that he and his companions abandoned the common way of life. +Long afterwards, when thousands of men had joined his Order of the +Lesser Brethren, he said: "God has gathered us into this holy Order for +the salvation of the world, and between us and the world He has made +this compact, that we shall give the world a good example, and the +world shall make provision for our necessities." + +Yet, though he preached repentance and sorrow for sin, never was it his +wish that men and women who had other duties should abandon those +duties and their calling to follow his example. Besides the Order of +the Lesser Brethren, he had founded an Order of holy women who should +pray and praise while the men went forth to teach; but well he knew +that all could not do as these had done, that the work of the world +must be carried on, the fields ploughed and reaped, and the vines +dressed, and the nets cast and drawn, and ships manned at sea, and +markets filled, and children reared, and aged people nourished, and the +dead laid in their graves; and when people were deeply moved by his +preaching and would fain have followed him, he would say: "Nay, be in +no unwise haste to leave your homes; there, too, you may serve God and +be devout and holy;" and, promising them a rule of life, he founded the +Third Order, into which, whatever their age or calling, all who desired +to be true followers of Christ Jesus might be admitted. + +Even among those who gave themselves up wholly to the life spiritual he +discouraged excessive austerity, forbidding them to fast excessively or +to wear shirts of mail and bands of iron on their flesh, for these not +only injured their health and lessened their usefulness, but hindered +them in prayer and meditation and delight in the love of God. Once, +too, when it was revealed to him that a brother lay sleepless because +of his weakness and the pinch of hunger, St. Francis rose, and, taking +some bread with him, went to the brother's cell, and begged of him that +they might eat that frugal fare together. God gave us these bodies of +ours, not that we might torture them unwisely, but that we might use +their strength and comeliness in His service. + +So, with little heed to his own comfort, but full of consideration and +gentleness for the weakness of others, he and his companions with him +went about, preaching and praising God; cheering and helping the +reapers and vintagers in the harvest time, and working with the +field-folk in the earlier season; supping and praying with them +afterwards; sleeping, when day failed, in barns or church porches or +leper-hospitals, or may be in an old Etruscan tomb or in the shelter of +a jutting rock, if no better chance befell; till at last they came to +be known and beloved in every village and feudal castle and walled town +among the hills between Rome and Florence. At first, indeed, they were +mocked and derided and rudely treated, but in a little while it was +seen that they were no self-seekers crazed with vanity, but messengers +of heaven, and pure and great-hearted champions of Christ and His poor. + + +In those days of luxury and rapacity and of wild passions and ruthless +bloodshed, it was strange to see these men stripping themselves of +wealth and power--for many of the brethren had been rich and noble--and +proclaiming the Gospel of the love and gentleness and purity and +poverty of Christ. For not only were the brethren under vow to possess +nothing whatever in the world, and not only were they forbidden to +touch money on any account, but the Order itself was bound to poverty. +It could not own great estates or noble abbeys and convents, but was as +much dependent on charity and God's providing as the humblest of its +friars. + +Was it a wonderful thing that a great affection grew up in the hearts +of the people for these preachers of the Cross, and especially for the +most sweet and tender of them all, the Little Bedesman of Christ, with +the delicate and kindly face worn by fasting, the black eyes, and the +soft and sonorous voice? Greatly the common people loved our Lord, and +gladly they listened to Him; and of all men who have lived St. Francis +was most like our Lord in the grace and virtue of His humanity. I do +not think that ever at any time did he say or do anything till he had +first asked himself, What would my Lord have done or said? + +And certain it seems to me that he must have thought of the Thief in +Paradise and of the divine words Christ spoke to him on the cross, when +Brother Angelo, the guardian of a hermitage among the mountains, told +him how three notorious robbers had come begging; "but I," said the +Brother, "quickly drove them away with harsh and bitter words." "Then +sorely hast thou sinned against charity," replied the Saint in a stern +voice, "and ill hast thou obeyed the holy Gospel of Christ, who wins +back sinners by gentleness, and not by cruel reproofs. Go now, and +take with thee this wallet of bread and this little flask of wine which +I have begged, and get thee over hill and valley till thou hast found +these men; and when thou comest up with them, give them the bread and +the wine as my gift to them, and beg pardon on thy knees for thy fault, +and tell them that I beseech them no longer to do wrong, but to fear +and love God; and if this they will do, I will provide for them so that +all their days they shall not lack food and drink." Then Brother +Angelo did as he was bidden, and the robbers returned with him and +became God's bedesmen and died in His service. + + +Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water +was St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little +brothers and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or +slighted them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return +they showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade +his companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the +flowers, and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no +great fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was +a marvellous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of +slight worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders. + +For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel +the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all, +but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and +at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided +the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St. +Francis the turtle-doves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for +them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the +hands of the brethren. + +Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it +back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the +fish played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go. + +"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a +shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that +they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the +shepherd his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats +one white lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his +brown robe to offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the +Pharisees); but a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and +he took it with him to the city and preached about it so that the +hearts of those hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left +in the care of a convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great +delight, these wove him a gown of the lamb's innocent wool. + +Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his +habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he +was preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he +preached to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when +he was on his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to +hear him, and they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and +listened till he had done. And these were the words he spoke to them: + +"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your +Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him. +Freedom he has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given +you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in +the Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you +owe him for the element of air, which he has made your portion. Over +and above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and +gives you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives +you, and the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to +build your nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes +thought to clothe you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, +that your Creator loves you much, since He has granted you so many +benefits. Be on your guard then against the sin of ingratitude, and +strive always to give God praise." + +And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they +might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their +love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the +cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away +they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven. + +One more story I must tell of the Saint and the wild creatures. + +On a time when St. Francis was dwelling in the town of Agobio, there +appeared in that countryside a monstrous grey wolf, which was so savage +a man-eater that the people were afraid to go abroad, even when well +armed. A pity it was to see folk in such fear and danger; wherefore +the Saint, putting his whole trust in God, went out with his companions +so far as they dared go, and thence onward all alone to the place where +the wolf lay. + +The wild beast rushed out at him from his lair with open mouth, but St. +Francis waited and made over him the sign of the most holy cross, and +called him to him, saying, "Come hither, Brother Wolf! In the name of +Christ I bid you do no harm, neither to me nor to any one." And when +the wolf closed his jaws and stopped running, and came at the Saint's +bidding, as gentle as a lamb, and lay down at his feet, St. Francis +rebuked him for the slaying of God's creatures, the beasts, and even +men made in God's image. "But fain would I make peace," he said, +"between you and these townsfolk; so that if you pledge them your faith +that you will do no more scathe either to man or beast, they will +forgive you all your offences in the past, and neither men nor dogs +shall harry you any more. And I will look to it that you shall always +have food as long as you abide with the folk of this countryside." + +Whereupon Brother Wolf, by movements of body and tail and bowing of +head, gave token of his good will to abide by that bargain. And in +sign that he plighted his troth to it he gave the Saint his paw, and +followed to the market-place of Agobio, where St. Francis repeated all +that he had said, and the people agreed to the bargain, and once more +the wolf gave pledge of his faith by putting his paw in the Saint's +hand. + +For two years thereafter Brother Wolf dwelt in Agobio, going tame and +gentle from house to house and in and out at will, doing hurt to none, +but much loved of the children and cared for in food and drink and +kindness by the townsfolk, so that no one lifted stone or stick against +him, neither did any dog bark at him. At the end of those years he +died of old age, and the people were grieved that no more should they +see his gentle coming and going. + +Such was the courtesy and sweet fellowship of St. Francis with the wild +creatures. + + +It remains yet to say of him that he was ever gay and joyous as became +God's gleeman. Greatly he loved the song of bird and man, and all +melody and minstrelsy. Nor was it ill-pleasing to God that he should +rejoice in these good gifts, for once lying in his cell faint with +fever, to him came the thought that the sound of music might ease his +pain; but when the friar whom he asked to play for him was afraid of +causing a scandal by his playing, St. Francis, left alone, heard such +music that his suffering ceased and his fever left him. And as he lay +listening he was aware that the sound kept coming and going; and how +could it have been otherwise? for it was the lute-playing of an Angel, +far away, walking in Paradise. + +Sweet new songs he made in the language of the common people, folk of +field and mountain, muleteers and vine-dressers, woodmen and hunters, +so that they in turn might be light of heart amid their toil and +sorrow. One great hymn he composed, and of that I will speak later; +but indeed all his sayings and sermons were a sort of divine song, and +when he sent his companions from one village to another he bade them +say: "We are God's gleemen. For song and sermon we ask largesse, and +our largesse shall be that you persevere in sorrow for your sins." + +Seeing that ladies of the world, great and beautiful, took pleasure in +the songs of the troubadours sung at twilight under their windows, he +charged all the churches of his Order that at fall of day the bells +should be rung to recall the greeting with which Gabriel the Angel +saluted the Virgin Mother of the Lord: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord +is with thee, blessed art thou among women." And from that day to this +the bells have rung out the Angelus at sunset, and now there is no land +under heaven wherein those bells are not heard and wherein devout men +hearing them do not pause to repeat that greeting angelic. + +In like fashion it was great delight to him (the Pope having given him +leave) to make in the churches of the Order a representation of the +Crib of Bethlehem on the feast of the Nativity. Of these the first was +made at the hermitage of Greccio. Thither the peasants flocked on +Christmas Eve, with lanterns and torches, making the forest ring with +their carols; and there in the church they found a stable with straw, +and an ox and an ass tethered to the manger; and St. Francis spoke to +the folk about Bethlehem and the Shepherds in the field, and the birth +of the divine Babe, so that all who heard him wept happy tears of +compassion and thankfulness. + +And as St. Francis stood sighing for joy and gazing at the empty +manger, behold! a wondrous thing happened. For the knight Giovanni, +who had given the ox and the ass and the stable, saw that on the straw +in the manger there lay a beautiful child, which awoke from slumber, as +it seemed, and stretched out its little hands to St. Francis as he +leaned over it. + +Even to this day there is no land in which you may not see, on +Christmas Eve, the Crib of Bethlehem; but in those old days of St. +Francis many souls were saved by the sight of that lowly manger from +the sin of those heretics who denied that the Word was made flesh and +that the Son of God was born as a little child for our salvation. + +The joy and gaiety of St. Francis were of two kinds. There was the joy +of love, and there was the joy of suffering for love. And of this last +he spoke a wonderful rhapsody as he journeyed once with Brother Leo, in +the grievous cold of the early spring, from Perugia to St. Mary of the +Angels. For, as Brother Leo was walking on before, St. Francis called +aloud to him:-- + +"O Brother Leo, although throughout the world the Lesser Brethren were +mirrors of holiness and edification, nevertheless write it down, and +give good heed to it, that not therein is perfect joy." + +And again, a little further on, he called aloud: + +"O Brother Leo, though the Lesser Brother should give the blind sight, +and make the misshapen straight, and cast out devils, and give hearing +to the deaf, and make the lame to walk and the dumb to speak; yea, +should he even raise the four days' dead to life, write it down that +not herein is perfect joy." + +And yet a little further on he cried out: + +"O Brother Leo, if the Lesser Brother should know all languages, and +every science, and all the Scriptures, so that he could foretell not +solely the hidden things of the future but also the secrets of the +heart, write down that not therein is perfect joy." + +A little further yet, and once again he cried aloud: + +"O Brother Leo, God's little sheep, though the Lesser Brother were to +speak with the tongue of the Angels, and know the courses of the stars +and the virtues of herbs, and though the treasures of the earth were +discovered to him, and he had craft and knowledge of birds and fishes +and of all living creatures, and of men, and of trees and stones, and +roots and waters, write it down that not therein is perfect joy." + +And once more, having gone a little further, St. Francis called aloud: + +"O Brother Leo, even though the Lesser Brother could by his preaching +convert all the unbelievers to the faith of Christ, write down that not +therein is perfect joy." + +And when, after St. Francis had spoken in this manner for the space of +two miles, Brother Leo besought him to reveal wherein might perfect joy +be found, St. Francis answered him: + +"When we are come, drenched with rain and benumbed with cold and +bespattered with mud and aching with hunger, to St. Mary of the Angels, +and knock at the door, and the porter asks wrathfully, 'Who are you?' +and on our answering, 'Two of your brethren are we,' 'Two gangrel +rogues,' says he, 'who go about cheating the world and sorning the alms +of the poor; away with you!' and whips the door to, leaving us till +nightfall, cold and famished, in the snow and rain; if with patience we +bear this injury and harshness and rejection, nowise ruined in our mind +and making no murmur of complaint, but considering within ourselves, +humbly and in charity, that the porter knows well who we are, and that +God sets him up to speak against us--O Brother Leo, write down that +therein is perfect joy." + +And perfect joy, he added, if, knocking a second time, they brought the +porter out upon them, fuming, and bidding them betake themselves to the +alms-house, for knaves and thieves, and nevertheless they bore all with +patience and with gladness and love. And yet again, he continued, if a +third time they knocked and shouted to him, for pity of their hunger +and cold and the misery of the night, to let them in, and he came, +fierce with rage, crying, "Ah, bold and sturdy vagabonds, now I will +pay you," and caught them by the hood, and hurled them into the snow, +and belaboured them with a knotty cudgel; and if still, in despite of +all pain and contumely, they endured with gladness, thinking of the +pains of the blessed Lord Christ, which for love of Him they too should +be willing to bear--then might it be truly written down that therein +was perfect joy. + + +This was the perfect joy of the Saint most like to Christ of all the +Saints that the world has seen. And of all joys this was the most +perfect, seeing that it was by the patient way of tears and +tribulation, of bodily pain and anguish of spirit, of humiliation and +rejection, that a man might come most nearly to a likeness of Christ. + +Through all his gaiety and gladness and benignity he carried in his +heart one sorrow, and that was the memory of the Passion of our Lord. +Once he was found weeping in the country, and when he was asked whether +he was in grievous pain that he wept, "Ah!" he replied, "it is for the +Passion of my Lord Jesus that I weep; and for that I should think +little shame to go weeping through the whole world." + +Two years before his death there befell him that miraculous +transfiguration, which, so far as it may be with a sinful son of Adam, +made perfect the resemblance between him and the Saviour crucified. +And it was after this manner. + +In the upper valley of the Arno stream there towers above the pines and +giant beeches of the hills a great basalt rock, Alvernia, which looks +over Italy, east and west, to the two seas. That rock is accessible by +but a single foot-track, and it is gashed and riven by grim chasms, yet +withal great oaks and beech-trees flourish atop among the boulders, and +there are drifts of fragrant wild flowers, and legions of birds and +other wild creatures dwell there; and the lights and colours of heaven +play about the rock, and the winds of heaven visit it with wholesome +air. + +Now a great and wealthy gentleman of Tuscany, Orlando of Chiusi, gave +St. Francis that mountain for a hermitage where he could be remote from +men, and thither, with three of the brethren most dear to him, the +Saint went to spend the forty days of the Fast of St. Michael the +Archangel. + +Two nights they slept on the way, but on the third day, so worn was St. +Francis with fatigue and illness, that his companions were fain to beg +a poor peasant to lend them his ass. As they proceeded on their +journey the peasant, walking behind the ass, said to St. Francis, "Tell +me now, art thou Brother Francis of Assisi?" and when St. Francis said +he was, the peasant rejoined, "Look to it, then, that thou strive to be +as good as folk take thee to be, so that those who have faith in thee +be not disappointed in what they expect to find in thee." And +instantly St. Francis got down from the ass, and, kneeling on the +ground, kissed the peasant's feet, and thanked him for his brotherly +admonition. + +So onward they journeyed up the mountain till they came to the foot of +Alvernia, and there as St. Francis rested him under an oak, vast +flights of birds came fluttering and blithely singing, and alighted on +his shoulders and arms, and on his lap, and about his feet. "Not +ill-pleased is our Lord, I think," said he, "that we have come to dwell +on this mountain, seeing what glee our little brothers and sisters the +Birds show at our coming." + +Under a fair beech on the top of the rock the brethren built him a cell +of branches, and he lived alone in prayer, apart from the others, for +the foreknowledge of his death had overshadowed him. Once as he stood +by the cell, scanning the shape of the mountain and musing on the +clefts and chasms in the huge rocks, it was borne in upon him that the +mountain had been thus torn and cloven in the Ninth Hour when our Lord +cried with a loud voice, and the rocks were rent. And beside this +beech-tree St. Francis was many times uplifted into the air in rapture, +and many times Angels came to him, and walked with him for his +consolation. + +A while later, the brethren laid a tree across a chasm, and St. Francis +hid himself in a more lonely place, where no one might hear him when he +cried out; and a falcon, which had its nest hard by his cell, woke him +for matins, and according as he was more weary or sickly at one time +than another, that feathered brother, having compassion on him, woke +him later or sooner, and all the long day was at hand to give him +companionship. + +Here in this wild place, in September, on Holy Cross Day, early in the +morning, before the dawn whitened, St. Francis knelt with his face +turned to the dark east; and praying long and with great fervour, he +besought the Lord Christ Jesus for two graces before he died. And the +first was this, that, so far as mortal flesh might bear it, he might +feel in his body the torture which our Lord suffered in His Passion; +and the second, that he might feel in his heart the exceeding great +love for which He was willing to bear such torture. + +Now even while he was praying in this wise a mighty six-winged Seraph, +burning with light unspeakable, came flying towards him; and St. +Francis saw that the Seraph bore within himself the figure of a cross, +and thereon the image of a man crucified. Two of the six wings of the +Seraph were lifted up over the head of the crucified; and two were +spread for flying; and two veiled the whole of the body on the cross. + +Then as the Seraph drew nigh, the eyes of Christ the crucified looked +into the eyes of St. Francis, piercing and sweet and terrible; and St. +Francis could scarce endure the rapture and the agony with which that +look consumed him, and transfigured him, and burned into his body the +similitude of Christ's Passion. For straightway his hands and his feet +were pierced through and through with nails; and the heads of the nails +were round and black, and the points were bent backward and riveted on +the further side of hand and foot; and his right side was opened with +the deep thrust of the spear; and the gash was red and blood came +dropping from it. Terrible to bear was the ache of those wounds; and +for the nails in his feet St. Francis scarce could stand and could not +walk at all. + +Such was the transfiguration of the Little Bedesman of Christ into His +visible semblance on the holy rock Alvernia. + +For two years he sustained the ecstasy and anguish of that likeness, +but of his sayings and of the wonders he wrought in that time I will +not speak. + +In those days he composed the Song of the Sun, and oftentimes sang it, +and in many a village and market-place was it sung by the brethren +going two by two in their labour for souls. A mighty hymn of praise to +the Lord God most high and omnipotent was this Song of the Sun; for in +this manner it was that St. Francis sang: + + +"Praised be Thou, my Lord; by all Thy creatures praised; and chiefly +praised by Brother Sun who gives us light of day. + +"Through him Thou shinest; fair is he, brilliant with glittering fire; +and he through heaven bears, Most High, symbol and sense of thee. + +"Praised by Sister Moon be Thou; and praised by all the Stars. These +hast Thou made, and Thou hast made them precious and beautiful and +bright. + +"Praised by Brother Wind be Thou; by Air, and Cloud that lives in air, +and all the Weathers of the world, whereby their keep Thou dost provide +for all the creatures Thou hast made. + +"Praised by Sister Water, Lord, be Thou; the lowly water, precious, +pure, the gracious handmaiden. + +"Praised by Brother Fire, by whom Thou makest light for us i' the dark; +and fair is he and jocund, sturdy and strong. + +"Praised by our Sister Mother-Earth, which keeps us and sustains, and +gives forth plenteous fruit, and grass, and coloured flowers. + +"Praised be Thou, Lord my God, by those who for Thy love forgive, and +for Thy love endure; blessed in their patience they; by Thee shall they +be crowned." + + +As he drew nigh to his end at St. Mary of the Angels, he cried out, +"Welcome, Sister Death!" and when his brethren, as he had bidden them, +sang once more the Song of the Sun, he added another verse: + +"Praised by our Sister Death be Thou--that bodily death which no man +may escape. Alas for those who die in mortal sin, but happy they +conforming to Thy will; for these the second death shall nowise hurt." + + +In the tenth month, on the fourth day of the month, in the +forty-and-fifth year of his age, having recited the Psalm, "I cried +unto Thee, O Lord, and said: Thou art my hope and my portion in the +land of the living," St. Francis died very joyfully. At the fall of +the night he died, and while still the brethren were gazing upon his +face there dropped down on the thatch of the cell in which he lay larks +innumerable, and most sweetly they sang, as though they rejoiced at the +release of their holy kinsman. + +He was buried at the great church at Assisi; but though it is thought +he lies beneath the high altar, the spot is unknown to any man, and the +hill-folk say that St. Francis is not dead at all, but that he lives +hidden in a secret crypt far down below the roots of wall and pillar. +Standing there, pale and upright, with the blood red in the five wounds +of his crucifixion, he waits in a heavenly trance for the sound of the +last trumpet, when the nations of the earth shall see in the clouds Him +whom they have pierced. + +Long after his death it was the custom of the brethren of a certain +house of his Order to go chanting in procession at midnight once in the +year to his resting-place. But the way was long and dark; the weather +often bleak and stormy. Little by little devotion cooled, and the +friars fell away, till there remained but one old monk willing to go on +this pilgrimage. As he went into the dark and the storm, the road +among the woods and rocks grew luminous, and in place of the cross and +torches and canticles of the former days, great flocks of birds +escorted him on his way, singing and keeping him company. The little +feathered brothers and sisters had not abated in their love of the +Little Bedesman who had caressed and blessed them. + + + + +The Burning of Abbot Spiridion + +Many wonderful things are told of the Abbot Spiridion, who lived a +hundred years and four and yet grew never old; neither was the +brightness of his eyes dimmed nor his hair silvered, nor was his frame +bowed and palsied with the weakness of age. + +During the long years in which he ruled the abbey he had founded, he +seemed to live less in this world than in the communion of the blessed +souls of men redeemed. The whole earth was as clear to him as though +it had been of crystal, and when he raised his eyes he saw not solely +what other men saw, but the vision of all that is under the heavens. +And this vision of life was at once his trial and his consolation. For +it was an unspeakable sorrow and anguish to see on all sides the sin +and suffering and misery of creation, and often he wept bitterly when +no one dared ask him the reason of his affliction. Yet oftentimes, on +the other hand, he laughed for lightness of spirit, and bade the +brethren rejoice because of the salvation of some reprobate soul, or +the relief of one oppressed, or the bestowal of some blessing on the +servants of God. + +When it happened that a brother had been sent on a journey and was long +absent, and the community was talking of him, wondering how he had +fared and where he might now be, the Abbot would sometimes break +silence and say: "I see our brother resting in such or such a cell," or +"Our brother is even now singing a psalm as he drifts in his small boat +of skins down this or that river," or, perchance, "Our brother is +coming over the hill and in an hour he will be with us." + +In the abbey there was a certain lay-brother, dull and slow of wit, +with a hindrance in his speech; and one of the monks despised him and +scoffed at his defect of nature. This lay-brother had the care of the +garden of pot-herbs and fruit-trees, and as he was toiling there one +day the Abbot called the uncharitable monk to him, and said: "Come, let +us see what our brother the Fool is doing." + +The monk trembled when he heard those words, for he knew that his +scornfulness had been discovered, and he followed the Abbot in great +confusion. In the garden they found the lay-brother planting cabbages. + +"Is our brother the Fool alone?" asked the Abbot. + +"Our brother is alone, father," replied the monk. + +Then the Abbot touched the monk's eyes, and straightway he saw that the +lay-brother was not alone: beside him were two radiant child-angels, +one of whom held for him a basket containing the young plants, and the +second walked to and fro playing on a lute to lighten his labour. +Then, overwhelmed with shame, the monk fell on his knees, confessing +his sin and promising amendment. + +More strange than this is the story I have now to tell. It happened +through mischance that fire broke out in the abbey, and the flames were +spreading so fiercely from one wattled cell to another that there was +great danger of the whole monastery being destroyed. With piteous +cries the religious surrounded the Abbot, and besought him to intercede +with God that their home might be spared. + +Spiridion gently shook his head. "The mercy of God," he replied, "has +given it to another to intercede for us in our danger this day. The +holy Pontiff, Gregory, has looked out of Rome and seen us in our +trouble. At this moment he is kneeling in prayer for us, and his +supplication on our behalf will avail." + +Even while Spiridion was speaking, the Pope, far away in the Golden +City, beheld the flames rising from the abbey, and called his household +to join him in entreating heaven; and at once it was seen that the +flames were being beaten to the ground and extinguished as though +invisible hands were beating them down with invisible branches of trees. + +Now when the brethren were made aware that the whole earth was being +constantly shown thus in vision to the Abbot, they stood in sad dread +of him; even the most pure and lowly-hearted were abashed at this +thought that perchance every act and every vain fancy of theirs was +laid bare to his knowledge. So it came to pass that out of shame and +fear their hearts were little by little estranged from him. + +The Abbot was not slow to perceive the change, and he spoke of it when +they met in chapter. + +"Truly it is a grievous and a terrible thing," he said, "that any man +should see with the eyes of the soul more than it is given the eye of +flesh to see; and I pray you, brethren, beseech the Lord, if it be His +will, that the vision be withdrawn from me. But if His will it be not, +beseech Him that I may not sin through seeing. So much for myself, but +as for you, dear children, why are you grieved? Because it may be that +I see you when you think no man sees you? Am I then the only one who +sees you? Is there not at least one other--even the high God, from +whom the hidden man of the heart is nowise hidden? If you fear His +holy eyes, little need you fear the eyes of any sinful man." + +Such a one was the Abbot Spiridion. His spirit passed from among men +in the hundred and fifth year of his exile, in the third month of the +year, on the morning of the resurrection of the Lord Christ, between +the white and the red of the morning, when the brethren were singing +prime. As he listened to them singing, his cheeks suddenly became +flushed with bright colour, and those who were about him, thinking he +was in pain, asked if in any way they might relieve him; but he replied +in a low voice, "When the heart is glad the face flowers." In a little +after that he laughed softly to himself, and so they knew that his end +was gladness. + +When he died there were three hundred religious in that monastery, and +in his stead Samson was made Abbot of Gracedieu. + + +The body of Spiridion was laid in a stone coffin hard by the abbey +church, and to those who had known the holy man it seemed nothing +strange that the sick and afflicted should come and kneel by his grave, +in the hope that by his intercession they might obtain succour in their +misery. Certain it is that the blind were restored to sight, and the +sick to health, and the painful to great ease; and the fame of these +miracles was noised abroad in the world till thousands came in +pilgrimage to the spot, and costly gifts--gold and silver and jewels, +sheep and cattle, wine and corn, and even charters of large demesnes, +fruitful fields and woods and waters--were bestowed as thank-offerings +to the saintly man. + +Then over his tomb rose a vast and beautiful minster, and the tomb +itself was covered with a shrine, brilliant with blue and vermilion and +gold and sculptured flowers, and guarded by angels with outspreading +wings. + +At the beginning Abbot Samson was well pleased, for the great church +rose like a dream of heaven, but when he perceived that the constant +concourse of people was destroying the hushed contemplation and piety +of the house, and that the brethren were distracted with eagerness for +gain and luxury and the pride of life, he resolved to make an end. +Wherefore after High Mass on the Feast of All Saints he bade the +religious walk in procession to the splendid shrine, and there the +Abbot, with the shepherd's staff of rule in his hand, struck thrice on +the stone coffin, and three times he called aloud: "Spiridion! +Spiridion! Spiridion!" and begged him, as he had been founder and +first father of that monastery, to listen to the grievance which had +befallen them in consequence of the miracles he had wrought from his +grave. + +And after an indignant recital of their loss of humility, of their +lukewarmness, of their desire for excitement and the pageants of the +world, of their lust for buildings of stone and pillared walks and +plentiful living, he concluded: "Make, then, we beseech thee, no sign +from thy sepulchre. Let life and death, and joy and sorrow, and +blindness and disease, and all the vicissitudes of this world follow +their natural courses. Do not thou, out of compassion for thy +fellow-man, interpose in the lawful succession of things. This is what +we ask of thee, expecting it of thy love. But if it be that thou deny +us, solemnly we declare unto thee, by the obedience which once we owed +thee, we shall unearth thy bones and cast them forth from amongst us." + +Now whether it was that for some high purpose God delayed the answer to +that prayer, or whether it was the folly and superstition of men which +gave to things natural the likeness of the miraculous, and even +peradventure the folk lied out of a mistaken zeal for the glory of the +saints, there was no abatement of the wonders wrought at Spiridion's +tomb; and when the Abbot would have forbidden access to the vast crowds +of pilgrims, the people resisted with angry violence and threatened +fire and bloodshed. + +So Samson summoned the wisest and holiest of the brotherhood, and took +them into counsel. + +"This thing," said he, "cannot be of God, that one of His saints, the +founder of this house, should lead into sloth and luxury the children +of the house he has founded. Sooner could I believe that this is a +malignant snare of the most Evil One, who heals the bodily ailments of +a few that he may wreck the immortal souls of many." + +Then arose Dom Walaric, the most aged of the monks, and said: "Already, +Father Abbot, hast thou spoken judgment. Grievously shall I lament +what must be done; but in one way only can we root out this corruption. +Let the bones of the holy man be unearthed and cast forth. He in the +high heavens will know that we do not use him despitefully, but that of +two evils this, indeed, is scarcely to be spoken of as an evil." + +Wherefore, in a grassy bay of the land by the river a great pile of +faggots was reared, dry and quick for the touch of flame. And the +Abbot broke down the shrine and opened the tomb. + +When the stone lid of the coffin had been lifted, the religious saw +that, though it had been long buried, the body showed no sign of decay. +Fresh and uncorrupted it lay in the sacred vestments; youthful and +comely of face, despite a marvellous old age and years of sepulture. + +With many tears they raised what seemed rather a sleeping man than a +dead, and bore him to the river; and when they had heaped the faggots +about him, the Abbot blessed the body and the fuel, and with his own +hand set fire to the funeral pile. + +The brethren restrained not their weeping and lamentation as they +witnessed that hallowed burning; and the Abbot, with heavy eyes, +tarried till the last ember had died out. Then were all the ashes of +the fire swept together and cast into the fleeting river, which bore +them through lands remote into the utmost sea that hath no outland +limit save the blue sky and the low light of the shifting stars. + + + + +The Countess Itha + +In the days of King Coeur-de-Lion the good Count Hartmann ruled in +Kirchberg in the happy Swabian land. And never had that fair land been +happier than it was in those days, for the Count was a devout +Christian, a lover of peace in the midst of warlike and rapacious +barons, and a ruler just and merciful to his vassals. Among the green +and pleasant hills on his domain he had founded a monastery for the +monks of St. Benedict, and thither he often rode with his daughter +Itha, the delight of his heart and the light of the grim old castle of +the Kirchberg; so that, seeing the piety of her father, she grew up in +the love and fear of God, and from her gentle mother she learned to +feel a deep compassion for the poor and afflicted. + +No sweeter maid than she, with her blue eyes and light brown hair, was +there in all that land of sturdy men and nut-brown maidens. The people +loved the very earth she stood on. In their days of trouble and sorrow +she was their morning and their evening star, and they never wearied of +praising her goodness and her beauty. + +When Itha was in the bloom of her girlhood it befell that the young +Count Heinrich of the Toggenburg, journeying homeward from the famous +tournament at Cologne, heard of this peerless flower of Swabia, and +turned aside to the Castle of Kirchberg to see if perchance he might +win a good and lovely wife. He was made welcome, and no sooner had he +looked on Itha's fair and loving face, and marked with what modesty and +courtesy she bore herself, than he heard joy-bells ringing in his +heart, and said, "Now, by the blessed cross, here is the pearl of price +for me!" Promptly he wooed her with tender words, and with eyes that +spoke more than tongue could find words for, and passionate observance, +and all that renders a man pleasing to a maid. + +And Itha was not loth to be won, for the Count was young and handsome, +tall and strong, and famous for feats of arms, and a mighty +lord--master of the rich straths and valleys of the Thur River, and of +many a burgh and district in the mountains beyond; and yet, despite all +this, he, so noble and beautiful, loved her, even her, the little +Swabian maid who had never deemed herself likely to come to such honour +and happiness. Nor were the kindly father and mother ill-pleased that +so goodly a man and so mighty a lord should have their dear child. + +So in a little while the Count put on Itha's hand the ring of +betrothal, and Itha, smiling and blushing, raised it to her lips and +kissed it. "Blissful ring!" said the Count jestingly; "and yet, +dearest heart, you do well to cherish it, for it is an enchanted ring, +an old ring of which there are many strange stories." Even while he +was speaking Itha's heart misgave her, and she was aware of a feeling +of doubt and foreboding; but she looked at the ring and saw how massive +was the gold and how curiously wrought and set with rare gems, and its +brilliancy and beauty beguiled her of her foreboding, and she asked no +questions of the stories told of it or of the nature of its enchantment. + +Quickly on the betrothal followed the marriage and the leave-taking. +With tears in her eyes Itha rode away with her lord, looking back often +to the old castle and gazing farewell on the pleasant land and the +fields and villages she should not see again for, it might be, many +long years. But by her side rode the Count, ever gay and tender, and +he comforted her in her sadness, and lightened the way with loving +converse, till she put from her all her regret and longing, and made +herself happy in their love. + +[Illustration: _Itha rode away with her lord_] + +So they journeyed through the rocks and wildwood of the Schwartzwald, +and came in view of the blue waters of the lake of Constance glittering +in the sun, and saw the vast mountain region beyond with its pine +forests, and above the forests the long blue mists on the high +pastures, and far over all, hanging like silvery summer clouds in the +blue heavens, the shining peaks of the snowy Alps. And here, at last, +they were winding down the fruitful valley of the Thur, and yonder, +perched on a rugged bluff, rose the stern walls of Castle Toggenburg, +with banners flying from the turrets, and the rocky roadway strewn with +flowers, and vassals and retainers crowding to welcome home the bride. + + +Now, for all his tenderness and gaiety and sweetness in wooing, the +Count Heinrich was a hasty and fiery man, quickly stirred to anger and +blind rage, and in his storms of passion he was violent and cruel. Not +long after their home-coming--woe worth the while!--he flashed out ever +and anon in his hot blood at little things which ruffled his temper, +and spoke harsh words which his gentle wife found hard to bear, and +which in his better moments he sincerely repented. Very willingly she +forgave him, but though at first he would kiss and caress her, +afterwards her very forgiveness and her meekness chafed and galled his +proud spirit, so that the first magical freshness of love faded from +their life, even as the dew dries on the flower in the heat of the +morning. + +Not far from the castle, in a clearing in the woods, nestled the little +convent and chapel of Our Lady in the Meadow, and thither, attended by +one of her pages, the Countess Itha went daily to pray for her husband, +that he might conquer the violence of his wild heart, and for herself, +that she might not grow to fear him more than she loved him. In these +days of her trial, and in the worse days to come, a great consolation +it was to her to kneel in the silent chapel and pour out her +unhappiness to her whose heart had been pierced by seven swords of +sorrow. + +Time went by, and when no little angel came from the knees of God to +lighten her burden and to restrain with its small hands the headlong +passion of her husband, the Count was filled with bitterness of spirit +as he looked forward to a childless old age, and reflected that all the +fruitful straths of the Toggenburg, and the valleys and townships, +would pass away to some kinsman, and no son of his would there be to +prolong the memory of his name and greatness. When this gloomy dread +had taken possession of him, he would turn savagely on the Countess in +his fits of fury, and cry aloud: "Out of my sight! For all thy +meekness and thy praying and thy almsgiving, God knows it was an ill +day when I set eyes on that fair face of thine!" Yet this was in no +way his true thought, for in spite of his lower nature the Count loved +her, but it is ever the curse of anger in a man that it shall wreak +itself most despitefully on his nearest and best. And Itha, who had +learned this in the school of long-suffering, answered never a word, +but only prayed the more constantly and imploringly. + + +In the train of the Countess there were two pages, Dominic, an Italian, +whom she misliked for his vanity and boldness, and Cuno, a comely +Swabian lad, who had followed her from her father's house. Most +frequently when she went to Our Lady in the Meadow she dismissed +Dominic and bade Cuno attend her, for in her distress it was some crumb +of comfort to see the face of a fellow-countryman, and to speak to him +of Kirchberg and the dear land she had left. But Dominic, seeing that +the Swabian was preferred, hated Cuno, and bore the lady scant +goodwill, and in a little set his brain to some device by which he +might vent his malice on both. This was no difficult task, for the +Count was as prone to jealousy as he was quick to wrath, and with +crafty hint and wily jest and seemingly aimless chatter the Italian +sowed the seeds of suspicion and watchfulness in his master's mind. + +Consider, then, if these were not days of heartbreak for this lady, +still so young and so beautiful, so unlovingly entreated, and so far +away from the home of her happy childhood. Yet she bore all patiently +and without complaint or murmur, only at times when she looked from +terrace or tower her gaze travelled beyond the deep pine-woods, and in +a wistful day-dream she retraced, beyond the great lake and the Black +Forest, all the long way she had ridden so joyfully with her dear +husband by her side. + +One day in the springtime, when the birds of passage had flown +northward, carrying her tears and kisses with them, she bethought her +of the rich apparel in which she had been wed, and took it from the +carved oaken coffer to sweeten in the sun. Among her jewels she came +upon her betrothal ring, and the glitter of it reminded her of what her +lord had said of its enchantment and the strange stories told of it. +"Are any of them so sad and strange as mine?" she wondered with tears +in her eyes; then kissing the ring in memory of that first kiss she had +given it, she laid it on a table in the window-bay, and busied herself +with the bridal finery; and while she was so busied she was called away +to some cares of her household, and left the chamber. + +When she returned to put away her marriage treasures, the betrothal +ring was missing. On the instant a cold fear came over her. In vain +she searched the coffer and the chamber; in vain she endeavoured to +persuade herself that she must have mislaid the jewel, or that +perchance the Count had seen it, and partly in jest and partly in +rebuke of her carelessness, had taken it. The ring had vanished, and +in spite of herself she felt that its disappearance portended some +terrible evil. Too fearful to arouse her husband's anger, she breathed +no word of her loss, and trusted to time or oblivion for a remedy. + + +No great while after this, as the Swabian page was rambling in the wood +near the convent, he heard a great outcry of ravens around a nest in an +ancient fir-tree, and prompted partly by curiosity to know the cause of +the disquiet, and partly by the wish to have a young raven for sport in +the winter evenings, he climbed up to the nest. Looking into the great +matted pack of twigs, heather and lamb's wool, he caught sight of a +gold ring curiously chased and set with sparkling gems; and slipping it +gleefully on his finger he descended the tree and went his way homeward +to the castle. + +A few days later when the Count by chance cast his eye on the jewel, he +recognised it at a glance for the enchanted ring of many strange +stories. The crafty lies of the Italian Dominic flashed upon him; and, +never questioning that the Countess had given the ring to her +favourite, he sprang upon Cuno as though he would strangle him. Then +in a moment he flung him aside, and in a voice of thunder cried for the +wildest steed in his stables to be brought forth. Paralysed with +fright, the luckless page was seized and bound by the heels to the tail +of the half-tame creature, which was led out beyond the drawbridge, and +pricked with daggers till it flung off the men-at-arms and dashed +screaming down the rocky ascent into the wildwood. + +Stung to madness by his jealousy, the Count rushed to the apartment of +the Countess. "False and faithless, false and faithless!" he cried in +hoarse rage, and clutching her in his iron grasp, lifted her in the air +and hurled her through the casement into the horrible abyss below. + +As she fell Itha commended her soul to God. The world seemed to reel +and swim around her; she felt as if that long lapse through space would +never have an end, and then it appeared to her as though she were +peacefully musing in her chair, and she saw the castle of Kirchberg and +the pleasant fields lying serene in the sunlight, and the happy +villages, each with its great crucifix beside its rustic church, and +men and women at labour in the fields. How long that vision lasted she +could not tell. Then as in her fall she was passing through the tops +of the trees which climbed up the lower ledges of the castle rocks, +green leafy hands caught her dress and held her a little, and strong +arms closed about her, and yielded slowly till she touched the ground; +and she knew that the touch of these was not the mere touch of +senseless things, but a contact of sweetness and power which thrilled +through her whole being. + +Falling on her knees, she thanked God for her escape, and rising again +she went into the forest, wondering whither she should betake herself +and what she should do; for now she had no husband and no home. She +left the beaten track, and plunging through the bracken, walked on till +she was tired. Then she sat down on a boulder. Among the pines it was +already dusk, and the air seemed filled with a grey mist, but this was +caused by the innumerable dry wiry twigs which fringed the lower +branches of the trees with webs of fine cordage; and when a ray of the +setting sun struck through the pine trunks, it lit up the bracken with +emerald and brightened the ruddy scales of the pine bark to red gold. +Here it was dry and sheltered, with the thick carpet of pine-needles +underfoot and the thick roof of branches overhead: and but for dread of +wild creatures she thought she might well pass the night in this place. +To-morrow she would wander further and learn how life might be +sustained in the forest. + +The last ray of sunshine died away; the deep woods began to blacken; a +cool air sighed in the high tops of the trees. It was very homeless +and lonely. She took heart, however, remembering God's goodness to +her, and placing her confidence in His care. + +Suddenly she perceived a glimmering of lights among the pines. Torches +they seemed, a long way off; and she thought it must be the retainers +of the Count, who, finding she had not been killed by her fall, had +sent them out to seek for her. The lights drew nearer, and she sat +very still, resigned to her fate whatsoever it might be. And yet +nearer they came, till at length by their shining she saw a great stag +with lordly antlers, and on the tines of the antlers glittered tongues +of flame. + +Slowly the beautiful creature came up to her and regarded her with his +large soft brown eyes. Then he moved away a little and looked back, as +though he were bidding her follow him. She rose and walked by his +side, and he led her far through the forest, till they came to an +overhanging rock beside a brook, and there he stopped. + + +In this hidden nook of the mountain-forest she made her home. With +branches and stones and turf she walled in the open hollow of the rock. +In marshy places she gathered the thick spongy mosses, yellow and red, +and dried them in the sun for warmth at night in the cold weather. She +lived on roots and berries, acorns and nuts and wild fruit, and these +in their time of plenty she stored against the winter. Birds' eggs she +found in the spring; in due season the hinds, with their young, came to +her and gave her milk for many days; the wild bees provided her with +honey. With slow and painful toil she wove the cotton-grass and the +fibres of the bark of the birch, so that she should not lack for +clothing. + +In the warm summer months there was a great tranquillity and hushed joy +in this hard life. A tender magic breathed in the colour and music of +the forest, in its long pauses of windless day-dreaming, in its breezy +frolic with the sunshine. The trees and boulders were kindly; and the +turf reminded her of her mother's bosom. About her refuge the wild +flowers grew in plenty--primrose and blue gentian, yellow cinquefoil +and pink geranium, and forget-me-nots, and many more, and these looked +up at her with the happy faces of little children who were innocent and +knew no care; and over whole acres lay the bloom of the ling, and +nothing more lovely grows on earthly hills. Through breaks in the +woodland she saw afar the Alpine heights, and the bright visionary +peaks of snow floating in the blue air like glimpses of heaven. + +But it was a bitter life in the winter-tide, when the forest fretted +and moaned, and snow drifted about the shelter, and the rocks were +jagged with icicles, and the stones of the brook were glazed with cold, +and the dark came soon and lasted long. She had no fire, but, by God's +good providence, in this cruel season the great stag came to her at +dusk, and couched in the hollow of the rock beside her, and the lights +on his antlers lit up the poor house, and the glow of his body and his +pleasant breath gave her warmth. + +Here, then, dead to the world, dead to all she loved most dearly, Itha +consecrated herself body and soul to God for the rest of her earthly +years. If she suffered as the wild children of nature suffer, she was +free at least from the cares and sorrows with which men embitter each +other's existence. Here she would willingly live so long as God +willed; here she would gladly surrender her soul when He was pleased to +call it home. + +The days of her exile were many. For seventeen years she dwelt thus in +her hermitage in the forest, alone and forgotten. + + +Forgotten, did I say? Not wholly. The Count never forgot her. Stung +by remorse (for in his heart of hearts he could not but believe her +true and innocent), haunted by the recollection of the happiness he had +flung from him, wifeless, childless, friendless, he could find no rest +or forgetfulness except in the excitement and peril of the +battle-field. But the slaughter of men and the glory of victory were +as dust and ashes in his mouth. He had lost the joy of life, the pride +of race, the exultation of power. For one look from those sweet eyes, +over which, doubtless, the hands of some grateful peasant had laid the +earth, he would have joyfully exchanged renown and lordship, and even +life itself. + + +At length in the fulness of God's good time, it chanced that the Count +was hunting in a distant part of the forest, when he started from its +covert a splendid stag. Away through the open the beautiful creature +seemed to float before him, and Heinrich followed in hot chase. Across +grassy clearings and through dim vistas of pines, over brooks and among +boulders and through close underwood, the fleet quarry led him without +stop or stay, till at last it reached the hanging rock which was Itha's +cell, and there it stood at bay; and alarmed by the clatter of hoofs, a +tall pale woman, rudely clad in her poor forest garb, came to the +entrance. + +Surprised at so strange a sight, the Count drew rein and stared at the +woman. Despite the lapse of time and her pallor and emaciation, in an +instant he recognised the wife whom he believed dead, and she too +recognised the husband she had loved. + +How shall I tell of all that was said between those two by that lonely +hermitage in the depth of the forest? As in the old days, she was +eager to forgive everything; but it was in vain that the Count besought +her to return to the life which she had forgotten for so many years. +Long had she been dead and buried, so far as earthly things were +concerned. She would prefer, despite the hardness and the pain, to +spend in this peaceful spot what time was yet allotted to her, but that +she longed once more to hear the music of the holy bells, to kneel once +more before the altar of God. + +What plea could Heinrich use to shake her resolution? His shame and +remorse, even his love, held him tongue-tied. He saw that she was no +longer the meek gentle Swabian maiden who had shrunk and wept at every +hasty word and sharp glance of his. He had slain all human love in +her; nothing survived save that large charity of the Saints which binds +them to all suffering souls on the earth. + +Wofully he consented to her one wish. A simple cell was prepared for +her in the wood beside the chapel of Our Lady in the Meadow, and there +she dwelt until, in a little while, her gentle spirit was called home. + + + + +The Story of the Lost Brother + +This is the story written in the chronicle of the Priory of Kilgrimol, +which is in Amounderness. It tells of the ancient years before that +great inroad of the sea which broke down the high firs of the western +forest of Amounderness, and left behind it those tracts of sand and +shingle that are now called the Blowing Sands. In those days Oswald +the Gentle was Prior of Kilgrimol, and he beheld the inroad of the sea; +and afterwards he lived through the suffering and sorrow of the great +plague of which people now speak as the Black Death. + +Of all monks and men he was the sweetest and gentlest, and long before +he was chosen Prior, when he had charge of the youths who wished to be +monks, he never wearied of teaching them to feel and care for all God's +creatures, from the greatest to the least, and to love all God's works, +and to take a great joy even in stones and rocks, and water and earth, +and the clouds and the blue air. "For," said he, "according to the +flesh all these are in some degree our kinsfolk, and like us they come +from the hands of God. Does not Mother Church teach us this, speaking +in her prayers of God's creature of fire, and His creature of salt, and +His creature of flowers?" + +When some of the brotherhood would smile at his gentle sayings, he +would answer: "Are these things, then, so strange and childish? +Rather, was not this the way of the Lord Jesus? You have read how He +was in the wilderness forty days, tempted of Satan, and how He was with +the wild beasts? All that those words may mean we have not been +taught; but well I believe that the wild things came to Him, even as +very little children will run to a good man without any doubt of his +goodness; and that they recognised His pitifulness and His power to +help them; and that He read in their dumb pleading eyes the pain and +the travail under which the whole creation groaneth; and that He +blessed them, and gave them solace, and told them in some mysterious +way of the day of sacrifice and redemption which was drawing near." + +Once when the brethren spoke of clearing out the nests from the church +tower, because of the clamour of the daws in the morning and evening +twilight, the Novice-master--for this was Oswald's title--besought them +to remember the words of the Psalmist, King David: "The sparrow hath +found an house and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay +her young, even thine altars, O Lord of Hosts." + +As for the novices, many a legend he told them of the Saints and holy +hermits who had loved the wild creatures, and had made them companions +or had been served by them in the lonely places of the hills and +wildwood. And in this, he taught them, there was nothing strange, for +in the book of Hosea, it was written that God would make, for those who +served Him, a treaty of peace and a league of love with the beasts and +the birds of heaven and the creeping things of the earth, and in the +book of Job it was said that even the stones of the field should be in +friendship with them. + +"And this we see," he would say, "in the life of the blessed Bishop +Kieran of Saighir, who was the first Saint born in green Erinn. For he +wandered away through the land seeking the little well where he was to +found his monastery. That well was in the depths of a hoary wood, and +when he drew near it the holy bell which he carried rang clear and +bright, as it had been foretold him. So he sat down to rest under a +tree, when suddenly a wild boar rushed out of its lair against him; but +the breath of God tamed it, and the savage creature became his first +disciple, and helped him to fell small trees and to cut reeds and +willows so that he might build him a cell. After that there came from +brake and copse and dingle and earth and burrow all manner of wild +creatures; and a fox, a badger, a wolf, and a doe were among Kieran's +first brotherhood. We read, too, that for all his vows the fox made +but a crafty and gluttonous monk, and stole the Saint's leather shoes, +and fled with them to his old earth. Wherefore Kieran called the +religious together with his bell, and sent the badger to bring back the +fugitive, and when this was done the Saint rebuked the fox for an +unworthy and sinful monk, and laid penance upon him." + +When the novices laughed at this adventure, Father Oswald said: + +"These things are not matters of faith; you may believe them or not as +you will. Perhaps they did not happen in the way in which they are now +told, but if they are not altogether true, they are at least images and +symbols of truth. But this I have no doubt is true--that when the +blessed Columba was Abbot in Iona, he called one of the brethren to him +and bade him go on the third day to the western side of the island, and +sit on the sea-shore, and watch for a guest who would arrive, weary and +hungry, in the afternoon. And the guest would be a crane, beaten by +the stormy winds, and it would fall on the beach, unable to fly +further. 'And do thou,' said Columba, 'take it up with gentle hands +and carry it to the house of the guests, and tend it for three days and +three nights, and when it is refreshed it will fly up into the air, and +after scanning its path through the clouds it will return to its old +sweet home in Erinn; and if I charge thee so earnestly with this +service, it is because the guest comes from our dear land.' And the +Brother obeyed; and on the third day the crane arrived, storm-beaten +and weary, and three days later it departed. Have you not also heard +or read how our own St. Godrich at Whitby protected the four-footed +foresters, and how a great stag, which had been saved by him from the +hunters, came year after year at a certain season to visit him?" + +Many legends too he told them of birds as well as beasts, and three of +these I will mention here because they are very pleasant to listen to. +One was of St. Malo and the wren. The wren, the smallest of all birds, +laid an egg in the hood which St. Malo had hung up on a branch while he +was working in the field, and the blessed man was so gentle and loving +that he would not disturb the bird, but left his hood hanging on the +tree till the wren's brood was hatched. + +Then there was the legend of St. Meinrad, who lived in a hut made of +boughs on Mount Etzel, and had two ravens for his companions. Now it +happened that two robbers wandered near the hermitage, and foolishly +thinking that some treasure might be hidden there, they slew the Saint. +After a long search, in which they found nothing, they went down the +mountain to Zurich; but the holy man's ravens followed them with fierce +cries, whirling about their heads and dashing at their faces, so that +the people in the valley wondered at the sight. But one of the +dalesmen who knew the ravens sent his son to the hermitage to see if +all was well, and followed the fellows to the town. There they took +refuge in a tavern, but the ravens flew round and round the house, +screaming and pecking at the window near which the robbers had seated +themselves. Speedily the lad came down with the news of the cruel +murder; the robbers were seized, and, having confessed their crime, +they suffered the torture of death on the wheel. + +And lastly there was the legend of St. Servan, who had a robin which +perched on his shoulder, and fed from his hand, and joined in with +joyful twittering when the Saint sang his hymns and psalms. Now the +lads in the abbey-school were jealous of the Saint's favourite pupil, +Kentigern, and out of malice they killed the robin and threw the blame +on Kentigern. Bitterly the innocent child wept and prayed over the +dead bird; and behold! when the Saint came from singing nones in the +minster, the robin fluttered up and flew away to meet him, chirruping +merrily. + +"A thoughtless thing of little blame," said the Novice-master, "was the +wickedness of these boys compared with that of the monks of the Abbot +Eutychus. The Abbot had a bear to tend his sheep while he was absent +and to shut them in their fold at sunset, and when the monks saw that +marvel, instead of praising God they were burned up with envy and +ill-will, and they killed the bear. Ah, children, it is still possible +for us, even in these days, to kill a Saint's robin and an abbot's +bear. Let us beware of envy and jealousy and uncharitableness." + + +In those years when Father Oswald was thus teaching his novices +gentleness and compassion, he had but one trouble in his life, and that +was the remembrance of a companion of his youth, who had fled from the +Priory and disappeared in the noise and tumult of the world's life. As +scholars they had been class-mates, and as novices they had been so +closely drawn together that each had pledged to the other that whoever +died first should, under God's permission, appear to the one still left +alive, and reveal to his friend all that may be told of the state of +the departed. Now hardly had they been professed monks more than a +year when this brother broke his vows and deserted his habit, and fled +away under cloud of night. Oswald had never forgotten his friend, and +had never ceased to grieve and pray for him. It was the great hope and +desire of his heart that, having at last proved the vanity of all that +the world can give, this Lost Brother would one day return, like the +Prodigal Son, to the house of his boyhood. + + +As the years went by Prior Anselm grew old and sickened, and at length +what was mortal of him fell as the leaf that falls and is trodden in +the clay; and the Novice-master was elected Prior in his stead. + +Now one of the first great works which the new Prior set his hand to +was the making of two large fish-ponds for the monastery. "And so," +said he, "not only shall we have other than sea-fish for our table, but +in case of fire we shall have store of water at hand. Then, too, it is +a pleasant thing to look on sweet water among trees, and to watch the +many sorts of silvery fish playing in their clear and silent world. +And well it becomes our state of life that we should have this, for of +our Lord's Disciples many were fishermen, and fish and bread were the +last earthly food our dear Master ate. Now of these ponds let the +larger be our Lake of Gennesaret, and surely it shall some time happen +to us that we shall see the Lord when the bright morning has come, and +that our hearts shall be as a fire of coals upon the shore." + +Of the earth dug out of the fish pools he piled up a high mound or +barrow, and stocked it well with saplings of oak and beech, ash and +pine, and flowering bushes; and about the mound a spiral way wound to +the top, and from the top one saw to the four winds over the high woods +of Amounderness, and on the west, beyond the forest, the white sands of +the shore and the fresh sea. When the saplings grew tall and stout, +the green leaves shut out all sight of the Priory; even the tower of +the church; and above the trees in the bright air it was as though one +had got half-way to heaven. + +Now after a little while the Prior reared on the high summit a vast +cross of oak, rooted firmly amid huge boulders, and the face of our +Lord crucified was turned to the west, and His arms were opened wide to +the sea and to the passing ships. And beneath the flying sails, far +away, the mariners and fisher-folk could see the cross in the sky, and +they bared their heads to the calvary of Kilgrimol. So the name of our +house and our Christ was known in strange waters and in distant havens. + +All that climbing greenwood of the mound was alive with wild creatures, +winged and four-footed, and no one was suffered to disquiet or annoy +them. To us it seemed that the Prior was as well known to all the wild +things far and near as he was to us, for the little birds fluttered +about him, and the squirrels leaped from tree to tree along the way he +went, and the fawns ran from the covert to thrust their noses into his +hand. And in the winter time, if the snow lay deep and there was any +dearth, food was made ready for them and they came in flocks and troops +to the Priory, knowing well, one would think, that the Prior would be +their loving almoner. + +Bee-hives, too, he set up, and grew all manner of flowers, both for the +use of the little brown toilers and for the joyance of the brethren; +and of the flowers he spoke deep and beautiful parables too many to be +told of in this book. + + +Now in the third year of his rule the Prior heard tidings of the +companion he had never forgotten, and he took into his confidence one +of the religious named Bede, in whom he had great trust, and he told +him the story of their friendship. "And now, Bede," he said, "I would +have thee go on a long journey, even to the golden city of London, and +seek out my friend. He will easily be found, for men know his name, +and he hath grown to some repute, and the good things of this world +have not been denied him. And in this I rejoice, for when he hath won +all his heart may desire, he will the sooner discover how little is the +joy and how fleeting the content. And tell him that so long as I am +Prior of this house, so long shall this house be a home waiting for his +home-coming. Bid him come to me--if but for a little while, then for a +little while be it; but if he longs for rest, this shall be the place +of his rest until the end. And if these things cannot be now, then let +them be when they may be." + +And Bede went on his long wayfaring and found the Lost Brother, a man +happy and of fair fame, and blessed with wife and child. And the monk +sat with the little maid on his knee, and even while he prayed for her +and her father, he understood how it might be that the man was well +content, and how that neither to-day nor to-morrow could he return to +that old life of the Priory in the forest. + +"Yet," said he, "tell the Prior that surely some day I shall see his +face again, if it be but for mere love of him for well I know there be +among the monks those who would more joyfully rend me or burn me at the +stake than give the hand of fellowship to one who has cast aside the +cowl." + +When he heard of these things the Prior only prayed the more earnestly +for the home-coming of his friend. + + +Now it was in the autumn of that year, at the season when the days and +nights are of one length, that the great inroad of the sea befell. The +day had been stormy, with a brackish wind clamouring out of the sea, +and as the darkness closed in it was with us as it is with blind men +who hear and feel the more keenly because of their blindness and all +that we heard was the boom of billows breaking on the long shore and +the crying and groaning of the old oaks and high firs in the forest. +Then in the midmost of the night we were aroused by so terrible a +noise, mingled with shrieking and wailing, that we crowded to the +Prior's door. Speedily he rose, and we followed him out of doors, +wondering what disaster had happened. The moon was shining brightly; +shreds of cloud were flying across the cold sky; the air was full of +the taste of salt. + +As we gazed about us we saw that the cloisters and the garth and all +the space within the walls were crowded with wild birds--sea-fowl and +crows, pheasant and blackcock, starlings and thrushes, stonechats and +yellow-hammers, and hundreds of small winged creatures cowering for +shelter. And when the Prior bade us throw open the monastery gates, +out of the sombre gloom of the forest the scared woodlanders came +crowding, tame and panting. No one had ever realised that so many +strange creatures, in fur and pelt, housed in the green ways. Even the +names of many of them we did not know, for we had never set eyes on +them before; but among those that were within our knowledge were coneys +and hares, stoats and weasels, foxes and badgers, many deer with their +does and fawns, and one huge grey creature of savage aspect which we +took to be an old wolf. + +The Prior ordered that the gates should be left open for any fugitives +that might seek refuge, and he went among the wild beasts, calming them +with a touch of his hand and blessing them. Then there came a woman, +with a child at her bosom and a little lad clinging to her dress, but +she was so distracted with fright that she was unable to say what had +happened. + +When he had given directions for the care of all these strange guests, +the Prior climbed up the mound through the tossing trees, and when he +had reached the summit he saw to his amazement that the sea had risen +in a mighty flood and poured for miles into the forest. The huge oaks +and pines of centuries had gone down in thousands, and over their +fallen trunks and broken branches the white billows were tumbling and +leaping in clouds of spray in the moonlight. Happily the land sloped +away to the north, so that unless the wind changed and blew against us +the Priory seemed to be in no present danger. Overhead the great cross +vibrated in the storm, and the face of the Christ gazed seaward, and +the holy arms were opened wide. The sight of that divine figure filled +the Prior's heart with peace and confidence. "Whether to live or to +die," he murmured, "in Thee, O Lord, have we placed our trust." + +Such was the terrible inroad of the sea which broke the western forest +of Amounderness. For many a day the land lay in salt swamp till the +sands were blown over it and buried the fallen timber; and afterwards +the very name of Forest was forgotten, and the people called all that +part the Field-lands. + + +Now it was in this same year that the grievous pestilence named the +Black Death raged in England; but it was not till the winter had gone +by that it reached Amounderness. Then were seen those terrible days +when ships sailed the seas with crews of dead men, and when on land +there was burying without sorrow and flight without safety, for though +many fled they could not escape the evil, and so many died that the +wells of sorrow ran dry. And because of the horror of so many deaths, +it was forbidden to toll the bells any longer lest men should go mad. +Often no hand could be got for love or for gold to touch the sick or to +carry the departed to their graves. When the graveyards were filled, +thousands were buried, without a prayer or a last look, in deep +trenches salted with quicklime, on the commons or in an open field. +Many a street in many a town fell suddenly silent and deserted, and +grass grew between the stones of the causeway. Here and there fires +were kept burning night and day to purify the air, but this availed +little. In many a thorpe and village all the inhabitants were swept +away and even robbers and desperate vagrants were too greatly in fear +of infection to enter the ownerless houses. Sometimes in the fields +one saw little children, and perchance an aged woman, trying to manage +a plough or to lead a waggon. + +When this trouble fell upon the people the Prior sent out various of +the brethren to aid the suffering and to comfort the bereaved; but when +many of the monks themselves were stricken down and died within the +hour, a great dread took hold of the others, so that they were +unwilling to expose themselves to danger. + +The Prior rebuked them for their lack of faith and the coldness of +their charity. "When the beasts and wild creatures suffered we had +compassion on them," he said; "what folly is this that we shall have +care for them and yet feel no pity for men and women in their misery! +Do you fear that you too may be taken off by this pestilence? Who, +then, has told you that you shall not die if only you can escape the +pestilence? Daily you pray, 'Thy kingdom come,' and daily you seek +that it shall not come to-day." + +He went abroad himself unweariedly with one or other of the brethren, +doing such good as he was able, and when he had returned home and taken +a little rest he set out once more. Now one night as he and Brother +Bede returned belated through the forest, they were startled as they +approached the gate to hear the weeping and moaning of one who lay +forsaken on the cold earth; and when the Prior called out through the +darkness, "Be of good cheer, Christian soul, we are coming to your +aid," the sufferer replied by rattling the lid of his clap-dish, and at +once they knew it was some poor leper who had fallen helpless by the +way. + +"Patience, brother," said the Prior; and bidding his companion open the +wicket, he lifted the wretched outcast from the ground and carried him +in his arms into the great hall. "Rest here a little," he said, "till +we can bring you light and fire and food." + +The Prior and Bede hastened to call the brethren who had charge of +these matters, but when they returned with the other monks they found +the great hall shining with a wonderful light and filled with a +marvellous fragrance of flowers, and on the seat where the leper had +been placed there lay a golden rose, but the leper himself had vanished. + +Then a great joy cast fear out of the hearts of the brotherhood, and +they laboured without ceasing in the stricken villages. Many of them +died, but it was without sorrow or repining, and the face of each was +touched with the golden rose ere he was laid to his rest. + + +Now the pestilence of that year was stayed by a bitter winter, and snow +lay deep even in the forest, and great blocks of ice littered the shore +of the bleak sea. And in the depth of the winter, when it drew near +the Nativity, there came riding to the monastery a stranger, who asked +to see the Prior. When the Prior looked into the man's face the tears +started and ran down his own, and he opened his arms to him, and drew +him to his breast and kissed him. For this was indeed the Lost +Brother. And when he had thus given him welcome, the Prior said: "I +ask no questions; what you can tell me you shall tell when the fitting +time comes. But this is your home to have or to leave, for you are as +free as the winds of heaven." + +And the Lost Brother replied: "Wise are you no less than good. The +plague has bereft me of the child, and of the mother of the child. +More I cannot tell you now." + +Thus to the Priori great happiness the companion of his youth returned +from wandering the ways of the world. + +When the weeks passed, and still he remained a silent and solitary +stranger, the religious spoke sharply among themselves of the presence +of one who had broken vows and revelled in the joys of life, and had +been received without censure or reproof. Then the Prior, wrathful now +even on account of his gentleness, rebuked them once again: "O eyes of +stone and hearts of water, are you so slow to learn? Have you who +sheltered the wild creatures no thought for this man of much sorrow? +Have you who buried the dead no prayer and no tenderness for this soul +of the living?" + +More than once the Lost Brother seemed to awake from a dream, and spoke +of going forth again from this home or quiet, saying: "Truly this is +great peace and solace to me, but I am not of you; my thoughts are not +your thoughts, nor is yours my way of life. Indeed, though I were to +will it never so, I could not repent of what I have done. Let me go; +why should I be an offence and a stone of stumbling to those who are +righteous among you?" + +But the Prior silenced him, asking gently: "Do we distress you with any +of these things? God has His times and seasons, and will not be +hastened. At least so long as you find peace and rest here, remain +with us." + +"You are strangely wise and gentle," the Lost Brother answered. "God, +I doubt it not, has His times and seasons; but with me I know not at +all what He will do." + +It was no long while after this that the Prior fell into a grievous +illness; and when he knew that his hour was drawing nigh, he besought +the monks to bear him up to the foot of the cross on the mound. There, +as he looked far abroad into the earth over the tree-tops, he smiled +with lightness of heart and said: "If the earth be so beautiful and so +sweet, what must the delight of Paradise be?" + +And behold! a small brown squirrel came down a tree, and ran across and +nestled in the holy man's bosom, and its eyes were full of tears. The +Prior stroked and caressed it, and said: "God bless thee, little +woodlander, and may the nuts never fail thee!" + +Then, gazing up into the blue sky and the deep spaces of air above, he +murmured in a low voice, "It is a very awful and lonely way to go!" + +"Not so awful for you," replied the companion of his youth. "That blue +way has been beaten plain by the Lord Christ, and the Apostles, and +many holy men from the beginning." + +A long while the Prior lay musing before he spoke again, and then he +said: "I remember me of an ancient saying which I had long forgotten. +A year for the life of a--nay, I know not what any longer. But after +that it runs, And three for the life of a field; and thrice the life of +a field for the life of a hound; and thrice the life of a hound for the +life of a horse; and thrice the life of a horse for the life of a man; +and thrice the life of a man for the life of a stag; and thrice the +life of a stag for the life of an ouzel; and thrice the life of an +ouzel for the life of an eagle; and thrice the life of an eagle for the +life of a salmon; and thrice the life of a salmon for the life of a +yew; but the Lord God liveth for ever--the Lord God liveth for ever!" + +That same night the alabaster box was broken and the precious ointment +poured out. And on the Prior's breast they placed the golden rose, and +under the great red hawthorn in the midst of the cloister-garth they +laid him, O Lord, beneath the earth which is Thy footstool. + +At the same hour in which he was taken from us there was a great crying +and lamentation of the wild creatures in the forest, and the tall stags +bellowed and clashed their antlers against the gates of the monastery. + +In the place of Prior Oswald, Father Bede was made Prior. + +Whether the spirit of Prior Oswald ever returned to earth the book does +not tell, but the Lost Brother, the companion of his youth, lived in +the house of Kilgrimol to old age, and in the days of Bede's rule he +made a good end. + + + + +The King Orgulous + +To and fro in the open cloister of Essalona walked the monk Desiderius, +musing and musing. Every now and again he stayed in his paces to feed +a tall white stork and two of her young, which stood on the parapet +between the pillars of the cloister; and though for the most part his +dole went to the storklings, the mother was well content with his +stroking of her head and soft white backfeathers. + +Then he resumed his slow walk, turning over and over in his perplexed +mind the questions of grace and nature, and praying for light in the +obscure ways where reason groped darkling. Meanwhile the storks stood +grave and patient, as if they too had matter for deep musing. + +As in this day, so in the ancient time the convent of Essalona was +perched on a beetling crag on the northern side of the Sarras +mountains. There the mighty ridge, with its belts of virgin pinewood +and its stony knolls and pastoral glens, breaks off suddenly in a +precipitous escarpment; and, a thousand feet below, the land is an +immense green plain, sweeping away to the blue limits of the north. It +is as though the sea had once on a time run up to the mountain wall and +torn down the tawny rocks for sand and shingle, and had then drawn back +into the north, leaving the good acres to grow green in the sun. +Through the plain winds a river, bright and slow; in many places the +fruitful level is ruffled with thicket and coppice; and among the far +fields the white walls of farms and hamlets glitter amid their boskage. +When the clear sunlight fell on that still expanse of quiet earth, one +might see, in those days, the stone towers and sparkling pinnacles of +the royal city of Sarras, with a soft blue feather of smoke floating +over it. + +Often had Desiderius let his eyes rest on the smoulder and gleam of +that busy city, which was all so hushed and dreamlike in the distance, +little thinking the while that one day he should dwell within its +walls, and play a strange part in the deeds that men remember. + +From the brink of the escarpment rises the rock of Essalona, and the +convent is built on the edge of the rock, in such sort that, leaning +over the parapet of the open cloister, Desiderius might have dropped a +pebble sheer down to the plain below. A single path wound up the rock +to the gate, so narrow and steep that one sturdy lay-brother might have +held the way with a thresher's flail against a score of men-at-arms. + +[Illustration: _King Orgulous_] + +Here, then, in this solitary house, Desiderius dwelt with five other +brethren, all good and faithful men; but he, the youngest and yet the +most learned in philosophy and star-lore and the sacred Scriptures and +the books of the wise, was the most meek and lowly of heart. No pains +did he spare his body or his spirit to master the deep knowledge of +divine things. Diligent by day, he eked out the light of the stars +with the lamp of the firefly, or conned his page by the dim shining of +the glow-worm along the lines. + +Now as he mused in the cloister he stopped short with a deep sigh, and +stood before the storks, and said: "Away, happy birds; you have leave. +Disport yourselves, soaring very high in the sunny heavens, or take +your rest on our roofs. I have appeased you with food; but to the +hunger of my soul who shall minister?" + +At his word the storks flapped their wings and rose from the parapet, +and went sailing up into the sunshine; and Desiderius heard at his +shoulder a most sweet and gracious voice saying: "What is thy hunger, +and wherein wouldst thou have me minister to thee?" + +Turning about, Desiderius saw that it was an Angel which spoke, and he +fell at the bright spirit's feet, abashed and in great dread. But the +Angel raised him up, and gave him courage, saying: "O Desiderius, most +dear to me (for I am thine Angel Guardian), do not tremble to tell me; +but speak to me even as thou wouldst speak to a man of thy brethren." + +Then said Desiderius: "Show to me and make plain, I pray thee, the +mystery of the grace of God in the heart of man." + +"Many are the mysteries of God," said the Angel, "whereof even the +highest of the Archangels may not sustain the splendour, and this is +one of them. Howbeit, if thou wilt be patient and prayerful, and wilt +repose thy trust in the Lord Christ, I will strive to show thee two +pictures of thy very self--one, to wit, of the natural Adam in +Desiderius, and one of the man redeemed by the blood shed for thee. So +in some wise shalt thou come to some dim light of this mystery of grace +divine. Will that suffice thee?" + +"That, Lord Angel, will suffice," said the monk, bowing low before the +Angel. + +"Wait, then, and watch; and even in thy body and before thou diest thou +shalt behold as I have said." + +Therewith the Angel left him, and Desiderius was aware of but the walls +and pillars of the cloister, and the bright vast plain, and, far away, +the city of Sarras glittering, and the smoke sleeping like a small blue +cloud above it. And the coming and going of the Angel was after this +manner. Desiderius perceived him, bright in the brightness of the +sunshine, as one perceives a morsel of clear ice floating in clear +water; and when Desiderius saw him no more it was as though the clear +ice had melted into the clear water. + + +Now after the lapse of three short years, and when he was but in his +thirtieth summer, Desiderius was summoned from his cell on the lonely +mountain, and, despite his tears and supplications and his +protestations of ignorance and inexperience and extreme youth, made +Archbishop of Sarras. Only one answer was vouchsafed to him. "One of +thy vows was entire obedience, and the grace of God is sufficient for +thee." + +In that same year a horde of the fierce Avars poured out from the round +green earth-walls of their mysterious stronghold, which lay beyond +Danube, and, crossing the river, fell on Sarras; and clashing with that +ravening horde, Astulf the King of Sarras was slain. + +Ill had it then fared with the folk of Sarras, city and plain alike, +but for a certain Talisso, a free-rider, who from a green knoll had +watched the onset. When he saw the slaying of the King, he plunged +into the battle, cleaving his way through the ranks of squat and +swarthy Avars; and heartening the men of Sarras with his ringing cheer +and battle-laughter, shaped them into wedges of sharp iron and drove +them home through the knotted wood of their foemen, till the Avars fled +hot-foot to Danube water, and through the water, and beyond, and so +reached the strait doorways of their earth-bound stronghold, the Hring. + +Now, seeing that the King of Sarras had left neither child nor brother +to heirship, and that their deliverer was a stalwart champion, young +and nobly statured, and handsome and gracious as he was valiant, frank +too and open-handed, and that moreover he seemed a man skilled in the +mastery of men and in affairs of rule, the fighting men of Sarras +thought that no better fortune could befall them than they should +choose this Talisso for their king. To Sarras therefore they carried +him with them on their merry home-going, and having entered the free +town, called the Council of Elders to say yea or nay. With few words +the Elders confirmed the choice, and the joy-bells were rung, and great +was the rejoicing of all men, gentle and simple, that God had sent them +so goodly a man for their ruler and bulwark. + +In a week from that the city was dight and decked for the crowning of +Talisso. Garlands were hung across the streets; windows and walls were +graced with green branches and wreaths of flowers; many-coloured +draperies, variegated carpets and webs of silk and velvet hung from +parapet and balcony; once more the joy-bells were set aswing, and amid +a proud array of nobles and elders and gaily harnessed warriors the new +King walked under a canopy of cloth of gold to the High Church. + +There in solemn splendour the new Archbishop administered to him the +kingly oath, and anointed him with the chrism of consecration, and set +the gold of power on his head, and invested him with the mantle of St. +Victor and girt about him the Saint's great iron sword set with many +jewels on the apple and the cross. As the Archbishop was completing +these ordinances, he chanced to look full into the King's face for the +first time, and as the King's eyes met his each stood still as stone +regarding the other for such a space as it would take one to count +four, telling the numbers slowly. Neither spoke, and when they who +were nearest looked to learn the cause of the stillness and the +stoppage they saw with amazement that the new King and the new +Archbishop were as like the one to the other as brothers who are twins. +With a slow and audible drawing of the breath the Archbishop took up +again the words of the ritual, and neither looked at the other any more +at that time. + +Now, having been crowned and consecrated, Talisso ascended the steps in +front of the altar, and, drawing the huge blade from its sheath, lunged +with it four times into the air--once to the north, and once to the +south, once to the east and once to the west. Sheathing the sword, he +descended, and walking to the western portal mounted his war-horse, and +paced slowly down the street, followed by a brilliant cavalcade, to the +Mound of Coronation. + +Urging his steed up the ascent, he drew rein on the summit, and once +more bared the holy brand, and, wheeling to the four quarters of +heaven, thrust it into the air in token of lordship and power +inalienable; and when he rode down the Mound to his people a great cry +was raised in greeting, and four pigeons were loosed. High they flew +in circles overhead, and, each choosing his own airt, darted out to the +four regions of the world to bear the news of that crowning. + + +The first years of the new reign seemed to be the dawn of a Golden Age +in the land of Sarras, and in those years no man was more beloved and +honoured by the King than was Archbishop Desiderius. As time passed +by, however, and the evil leaven of unrestrained power began to ferment +in the King's heart, and the Archbishop opposed and reproved him, +gently and tenderly at first, but ever more gravely and steadfastly, +coldness and estrangement divided them; and soon that strange +resemblance which gave them the aspect of twin brothers, became a root +of suspicion and dread in the King's mind, for he reasoned with +himself, "What more likely than that this masterful prelate should +dream of wearing the crown, he who so nearly resembles the King that +the mother of either might well pause ere she should say which was her +son? A foot of iron, and a sprinkling of earth, and farewell Talisso! +None would guess it was Desiderius who took his ease in thy chair." + +Thus by degrees limitless power waxed into lawlessness, and suspicion +and dread into moroseness and cruelty, and on this rank soil the red +weeds of lust and hate and bitter pride sprang up and choked all that +was sweet and gracious and lovable in the nature of the man. + +Then did the wise and gentle folk of Sarras come to perceive how +woefully they had been deceived in the tyrant they had crowned, and +speedily it came to pass that when they spoke of King Talisso they +breathed not his name, but using an ancient word to signify such insane +and evil pride as that of Lucifer and the Fallen Angels, they called +him the King Orgulous. Yet if this was the mind of the better folk, +there was no lack of base and venomous creatures--flatterers, +time-servers, and sycophants--to minister to his wickedness and +malignity. + +Dark were the days which now fell on Sarras, and few were those on +which some violence or injustice, some deed of lust or rapacity was not +flaunted in the face of heaven. The most noble and best men of the +city were attainted and plundered and driven into exile. Of the meaner +sort of folk many a poor citizen or rustic toiler went shaven and +branded, or maimed of nose and eyelids, or with black stumps seared +with pitch and an iron hook for hand. Once more the torture-chamber of +the castle rang with the screams of poor wretches stretched on the +rack; and the ancient instruments of pain, which had rusted through +many a long year of clemency, were once more reddened with the sweat of +human agony. + +An insatiable lust of cruelty drove the King to a sort of madness. +With a fiendish malice he fashioned of wood and iron an engine of +torment which bore the likeness of a beautiful woman, but which opened +when a spring was pressed, and showed within a hideous array of knives; +and these pierced the miserable wight about whom the Image closed her +arms. In blasphemous merriment the King called this woman of his +making Our Lady of Sorrow, and in mockery of holy things he kept a +silver lamp burning constantly before her, and crowned her with flowers. + +Now in the hour in which the King was left wholly to his wickedness, he +doomed to the Image the young wife of one of the chief men of Sarras. +Little more than a girl was she in years; sweet and exceeding lovely; +and she still suckled her first babe. + +When the tormentors would have haled her to the Image, "Forbear," she +said, "there is no need; willingly I go and cheerfully." And with a +fearless meekness she walked before them with her little babe in her +arms into the chamber of agony. + +Coming before the Image with its garland of flowers she knelt down, and +prayed to the Virgin Mother of our Lord, and commended her soul and the +soul of her dear babe to our Lady and her divine Son; and the babe +stretched out its little hands to the Image, cooing and babbling in its +innocence. + +Then, as though this were a spectacle to make the very stones shriek +and to move the timber of the rack and the iron of the axe to human +tenderness, the Image stepped down from its pedestal, and lifted up +mother and child, and a wondrous light and fragrance filled the stone +vault, and the tormentors fled, stricken with a mad terror. + +Down from the castle and through the streets of the hushed and weeping +city the Image led the mother and her babe to their own door, and when +they had entered the house, and the people stood by sobbing and +praying, the Image burst into flames, and on the spot where it stood +there remained a little heap of ashes when that burning was done. + +Judge if the land of Sarras was silent after this day of divine +interposition. Hastily summoning the Bishops of the realm, and +gathering a body of men-at-arms, the Archbishop Desiderius proclaimed +from the Jesus altar of the High Church the deposition of the King +Orgulous. Talisso was seized and stripped of his royal robes; a width +of sackcloth was wrapped about his body, and with a rope round his neck +he was led to the Mound of Coronation. There, on the height whereon he +had thrust his sword into the four regions of heaven, he received his +sentence. + +Standing erect in a circle on the top of the Mound the nine Bishops of +the realm held each a lighted torch in his hand. In the centre stood +Desiderius beside the King deposed, and holding high his torch uttered +the anathema which was to sever all bonds of plighted troth and loyalty +and service, and to cast him forth from the pale of Holy Church, and to +debar him from the common charity of all Christian people. At that +moment the Bishops marked with awe the strange resemblance between +Desiderius and the King, and the eyes of these two met, and each was +aware how marvellously like to himself was the other. But with a clear +unfaltering voice the Archbishop cried aloud the doom: + +"May he be outcast from the grace of heaven and the gladness of earth. +May the stones betray him, and the trees of the forest be leagued +against him. In want or in sickness may no hand help him. Accursed +may he be in his house and in his fields, in the water of the streams +and in the fruits of the earth. Accursed be all things that are his, +from the cock that crows to awaken him to the dog that barks to welcome +him. May his death be the death of Pilate and of Judas the betrayer. +May no earth be laid on the earth that was he. May the light of his +life be extinguished thus!" + +And the Archbishop cast down his torch and trampled it into blackness; +and crying "Amen, amen, amen!" the Bishops threw down their torches and +trod them under foot and crushed out every spark of fire. + +"Begone," said the Archbishop, "thou art banned and banished. If +within three days thy feet be found on the earth of Sarras, thou shalt +hang from the nearest tree." + +As he spoke the great bell of the High Church began to toll as for one +whose spirit has passed away. At the sound Talisso started; then +taking the rope from his neck and flinging it on the ground with a +mocking laugh, he turned and fled down the Mound and into the green +fields that lie to the north. + + +Not far had he fled into the open country before the recklessness of +the reiver and strong-thief fell on Talisso. Entering a homestead he +smote down the master, and got himself clothing and food and weapons, +and seizing a horse, pushed on apace till he came to the red field +where he had routed the Avars, and thence onward to Danube water. + +Beyond Danube, some days' riding into the north, lay that mysterious +stronghold, the Hring, the camp-city of the Avar robber-horde. And +thither Talisso was now speeding, for he said to himself: "They are +raiders and slayers, and this kind is quick to know a _man_. They will +love me none the less that I have stricken and chased them. Rather +will they follow me and avenge me, if not for my sake for the sake of +the fat fields and rich towns of Sarras." + +Now the stronghold was a marvel in the manner of its contrivance, and +in its size and strength; for it was bulwarked with seven rings, each +twenty feet high and twenty feet wide, and the rings were made of +stockades of oak and beech and pine trunks, filled in with stones and +earth, and covered atop with turf and thick bushes. The distance +across the outer ring was thirty miles, and between each ring and the +one within it there were villages and farms in cry of each other, and +each ring was pierced by narrow gateways well guarded. In the midst of +the innermost ring were the tent of the Chagan or Great Chief, and the +House of the Golden Hoard. Piled high were the chambers of that house +with the enormous treasure of a century of raiding--silken tissues and +royal apparel and gorgeous arms, great vases and heavy plate of gold +and silver, spoil of jewels and precious stones, leather sacks of +coined money, the bribes and tribute of Greece and Rome, and I know not +what else of rare and costly. Long afterwards, when the Avars were +broken and the Hring thrown down, that hoard filled fifteen great +waggons drawn each by four oxen. + +In the very manner in which Talisso had forecast it, so it fell out +with him at the Hring. The fierce, swart, broad-shouldered dwarfs with +the almond eyes and woven pigtails gazed with glee and admiration on +the tall and comely warrior who had swept them before his sword-edge; +and when he spoke of the rich markets and goodly houses and fruitful +land of Sarras their eyes glistened, and they swore by fire and water +and the four winds to avenge his wrongs. + + +Little need is there to linger in telling of a swift matter. Mounted +on their nimble and hardy ponies, the Avars dashed into Sarras land two +hundred strong, and tarried neither to slay nor spoil, but outsped the +fleet feet or rumour, till in the grey glimmer of cock-crow they +sighted the towers of Sarras city. Under cover of a wood they rested +till the gates were flung wide for the early market folk. Who then but +Talisso laughed his fierce and orgulous laugh as he rode at their head +and they all hurled through the gates, and, clattering up the empty +street, carried the castle out of hand? + +Not a blow was struck, no drop of blood reddened iron or stone; and +such divinity doth hedge even a wicked king dethroned that when the +guards saw the tyrant once more ascending the steps of power they +lowered their points and stood at a loss how to act. But Talisso, with +some touch of his pristine graciousness, bade no man flee or fear who +was willing to return to his allegiance. "First, however, of all +things, bring me hither the Archbishop; bring with ropes and horses if +need be; but see that not a hair of his head be injured." + + +Now on this same night that these Hunnish folk were pressing forward to +Sarras city Desiderius saw in a dream Talisso standing before the +throne of God. On his head he wore his crown, but otherwise he was but +such as he stood for sentence on the Mound of Coronation, to wit, with +a rope around his neck, and naked save for the fold of sackcloth about +his loins. + +Beside him stood an Angel, and the Angel was speaking: "All the lusts +of the flesh, and all the lusts of the eyes, and all the lusts of the +will, and the pride of life this man hath gratified and glutted to +surfeiting, yet is he as restless as the sea and as insatiable as the +grave. Speak, man, is it not so?" + +And Talisso answered, with a peal of orgulous laughter: "Restless as +the sea; insatiable as the grave." + +"How then, Lord," said the Angel, "shall this man's unrest and hunger +be stayed?" + +God spoke and said: "Fill his mouth with dust." + +Then the Angel took a handful of dust and said to Talisso: "Open thy +mouth and eat." + +Talisso cried aloud, "I will not eat." + +"Open thy mouth," said the Angel sternly. + +"My mouth I will not open," replied Talisso. + +Thereupon the Angel caught him by the hair, and plucked his head +backward till his throat made a knotted white ridge above the neck, and +as Talisso opened his mouth, shrieking blasphemies and laughing with +frantic rage, the Angel filled it with dust. + +Talisso fell backwards, thrusting with his feet and thrashing the +ground with his hands; his crown fell from his head and rolled away; +his face grew set and white; and then he lay straight and rigid. + +"Hast thou filled his mouth?" + +"His mouth, Lord, is filled," the Angel answered. + +This was the dream of Desiderius. + + +When citizens came running to the palace, and the Archbishop learned +how the gates had been surprised and the castle taken, he lost no time +in casting about what he should do. He sent messengers to summon the +Council of the Elders, and bade his men-at-arms fall into array. Then +he hastened to the High Church, and, after a brief prayer before the +altar, girt on the great sword of St. Victor, threw over his purple +cassock the white mantle of the Saint, and putting on his head a winged +helm of iron, made his way to the castle where Talisso awaited his +capture. + +"Stay you here," he said to his men-at-arms when they reached the +portals, "and if by God's blessing work fall to your hands to do, do it +doughtily and with right good will." + +Up the high hall of the castle, through the groups of lounging Avars he +went, with great strides and eyes burning, to the dais where Talisso +sat apart in the royal chair. + +"Ha! well met, Lord Archbishop," cried the dethroned King, springing to +his feet at the sight of him. + +"Well met, Talisso," replied Desiderius in a loud voice. "With no more +ado I now tell thee that for thee there is but one end. Thy mouth must +be filled with dust." + +As he spoke, Desiderius flung back his mantle and drew the holy sword. +Heaving it aloft he struck mightily at Talisso. From the King's helmet +glanced the keen brand, and descending to the shoulder shore away the +plates of iron, and bit the flesh. + +Once more the great sword was swung up, for Desiderius neither heard +nor heeded the cry and rush of the Avars; but or ever the stroke could +fall Desiderius saw the Angel of Essalona by his side and felt his hand +restraining the blade; and at the same instant the figure before him, +the figure of the King Orgulous, grew dim and hazy, and wavered, and +broke like smur blown along a wooded hillside, and vanished from his +gaze. + +"A little truer stroke," said the Angel, "and thou hadst slain thyself, +for of a truth the man thou wast slaying was none other than thyself; +as it is, thou art hurt more than need was"--for the shoulder of the +Archbishop was bare, and the blood streamed from it. + +Bewildered at these words, Desiderius gazed about to see if the high +hall and the Avars were but the imagery of a dream. But there in front +of him stood the dwarfish tribe, with naked brands and battle-axes. +These, when they looked on his face, raised a hoarse cry of terror, for +they too had beheld Talisso, how at a blow of the magic sword he had +fallen and perished even from the vision of men, and now they saw that +he who had slain the King was himself the King. Howling and +clamouring, they broke from the hall and fled into the street; and +there the men-at-arms did right willingly and doughtily the work which +thus came to their hands. Of that fierce and uncouth robber horde, +which rode to Sarras two hundred strong, scarce two score saw Danube +water again. + + +When Desiderius knew for a surety that the natural man within him was +verily that King wicked and orgulous, and understood that the sins of +that evil King were the sins he himself would have committed but for +the saving grace of God, a great awe fell upon him, and he was abashed +with a grievous dread lest the King Orgulous were not really dead and +done with, but were sleeping still, like the Kings of old legend, in +some dusky cavern of his nature, ready to awake and break forth with +sword and fire. Gladly would he have withdrawn to the solitude of the +little convent on the beetling crag, far from the temptations of power +and the splendour and tumult of life; but the same answer was given to +him now as had been given to him of old: "One of thy vows was entire +obedience, and the grace of God is sufficient for thee." + + + + +The Journey of Rheinfrid + +On the green skirts of the Forest of Arden there was a spot which the +windings of the Avon stream had almost made into an island, and here in +the olden time the half-savage herdsmen of King Ethelred kept vast +droves of the royal swine. The sunny loops of the river cut clearings +on the east and south and west, but on the north the Forest lay dense +and dark and perilous. For in those ancient days wolves still prowled +about the wattled folds of the little settlement of Wolverhampton, and +Birmingham was only the rude homestead of the Beormingas, a cluster of +beehive huts fenced round with a stockade in the depths of the woods. + +Among the swineherds of the King there was one named Eoves, and one +day, while wandering through the glades of great oaks on this edge of +the Forest, he saw three beautiful women who came towards him singing a +song more strange and sweet than he had ever heard. He told his +fellows, and the story spread far and wide. Some said that the three +beautiful women were three goddesses of the old pagan world, and +thought Eoves had acted very foolishly in not speaking to them. Others +said they might have been the Three Fates, in whose hands are the lives +of men, and the joy of their lives, and the sorrow they must endure, +and the death which is the end of their days; and they thought that +perhaps Eoves had been wise to keep silence. + +But when the holy Bishop Egwin heard the tale, he visited the place +alone, and in the first glimmer of the sunrise, when all wild creatures +are tame and the earth is most lovely to look upon, he beheld the three +beautiful women, and he saw in a moment that they were the Virgin +Mother Mary and two heavenly handmaidens. "And our Lady," he used +afterwards to say, "was more white-shining than lilies and more freshly +sprung than roses, and the savage forest was filled with the fragrance +of Paradise." + +Straightway the Bishop sent his woodmen and had the aged oaks felled +and the underwood cleared away; and on the spot where the beautiful +women had stood a fair church was built for the worship of the true +God, and around it clustered the cells of an abbey of Black Monks. In +a little while people no longer spoke of the place by its old name, but +called it Eovesholme, because of the vision of Eoves. + +Now when more than three and a half centuries had gone by, and Agelwyn +the Great-hearted was Abbot, there was a Saxon noble, young and +dissolute, who had been stricken by the Yellow Plague, and, after three +days' sickness, had been abandoned by his friends and followers in what +seemed to be his last agony. For the Yellow Plague was a sickness so +ghastly and dreadful that men called it the Yellow Death, and fled from +it as swiftly as they might. But in the dead and dark of the third +night a beautiful Child, crowned with roses and bearing in his hand a +rose, had come to the dying thane and said: "Now mayest thou see that +the best the world can give--call it by what name thou wilt and prize +it at its utmost worth--is nothing more than these: wind and smoke and +a dream and a flower. But though all have fled from thee and left thee +to die alone in grievous plight, this night thou shalt not die." + +Then he was bidden to rise on the morrow--"for strength shall be given +thee," said the Child--and travel with the sun westward till he came to +the Abbey of Egwin, and there he must tell the Abbot all that had +befallen him. + +"And the good Abbot will receive thee among his sons," said the Child; +"and after that, in a little while, thou shalt go on a journey, and +then again in a little while shalt come to me." + +On the morrow Rheinfrid the thane rose from his bed hale and strong, +but his whole nature was changed; and he made no more account of life +and of all that makes life sweet--as honour and wealth and joy and use +and the love of man and woman--than one makes of wind and smoke and a +dream and a flower; and all that he greatly desired was to undertake +the journey which had been foretold, and to see once more the Child of +the Roses. + +Westward he rode with the sun and came at nightfall to the Abbey of +Eovesholme; and there he told Agelwyn the Abbot the story of his wild +life and his sickness and the service that had been laid upon him. + +The Abbot embraced him, saying, "Son, welcome art thou to our house, +and thy home shall it be till the time comes for thy journey." + +For a whole year Rheinfrid was a novice in the house, and when the year +had gone by he took the vows. In the presence of the brotherhood he +cast himself on the pavement before the high altar, and the pall of the +dead was laid over him, and the monks sang the dirge of the dead, for +now he was indeed dying to this world. And from his head they cut the +long hair, and clothed him in the habit of a monk, and henceforth he +was done with all earthly things and was one of themselves. + +"Surely, now," he thought, "the time of my journey draws near." But +one year and a second and yet a third passed away, and there came to +him no call, and he grew wearied with waiting, and weariness begot +sullenness and discontent, and he questioned himself: "Was it not a +dream of sickness which deceived me? An illusion of pain and darkness? +Why should I waste my life within these walls?" But immediately +afterwards he was filled with remorse, and confessed his thoughts to +the Abbot. + +"Have faith and patience, my son," said Agelwyn. "Consider the many +years God waited for thee, and grew not impatient with thy delay. When +His good time comes thou shalt of a certainty set out on thy journey." + +So for a while Rheinfrid ceased to repine, and served faithfully in the +Abbey. + + +In the years which followed, William the Norman came into these parts +and harried whole shires on account of the rebels and broken men who +haunted the great roads which ran through the Forest. Cheshire and +Shropshire, Stafford and Warwick were wasted with fire and sword. And +crowds naked and starving--townsmen and churls, men young and old, +maidens and aged crones, women with babes in their arms and little ones +at their knees--came straggling into Eovesholme, fleeing most +sorrowfully from the misery of want. + +In the little town they lay, indoors and out, and it was now that the +Abbot got himself the name of the Great-hearted. For he gave his monks +orders that all should be fed and cared for; and daily from his own +table he sent food for thirty wanderers whom he named his guests, and +daily in memory of the love of Christ he washed the feet of twelve +others, and never shrank from the unhappy lepers among them. But for +all his care the people died lamentably from grief and sickness--on no +day fewer than five or six between prime and compline; and these poor +souls were buried by the brethren. Of the little children that were +left to the mothering of the east wind, some were adopted by the canons +and priests of the Abbey church, and others by the monks. + +In his eagerness to help and solace, the Abbot even sent forth +messengers to bring in the fugitives to refuge. Now on a day that +Rheinfrid went out on this work of mercy, he met at a crossway a number +of peasants fleeing before a dozen Norman men-at-arms. He raised his +arm and called to them to make a stand, but they were too much +terrified to heed him. Then he saw that one of the soldiers had seized +by the hair a fair Saxon woman with a babe at her bosom, and with a +great cry he bade him let her go, for his blood was hot within him as +he thought of the Saxon woman who had carried him in her arms and +suckled him when he was but such a little child. But the Norman only +laughed and turned the point of his sword against the monk. + +Then awoke the long line of thanes slumbering in wild caves and dark +ways of his soul, and with a mighty drive of his fist he struck the +man-at-arms between the eyes, so that he fell like a stone. With +savage curses the knave's comrades rushed in against the monk, but +Rheinfrid caught up the Norman's sword, and with his grip on the hilt +of it his old skill in war-craft came back to him, and he carried +himself like a thane of the old Sea-wolves, and the joy of battle +danced in his eyes. + +Ill was it then for those marauders. One of them he clove through the +iron cap; the neck of another he severed with a sweep of the bitter +blade. + +And now that he was fighting he remembered his calling, and with a +clear voice he chanted the great psalm of the man who has sinned: +"Miserere mei Deus--Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy +loving-kindness; according unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies +blot out my transgressions." + +The strength of ten was in his body, and verse by verse he laid the +Normans low, till of the troop no more than two were left. These were +falling back before him as he pressed onward chanting his Miserere, +when a body of horsemen rode up and drew rein to watch the issue. + +"By the Splendour of God!" cried the leader, as he glanced at the woman +and scanned the number of the dead tumbled across the road, "it is a +_Man_!" + +Rheinfrid looked up at the new comer, and saw a gigantic, ruddy-faced +man of forty, clad in chain mail and wearing a circlet of gold about +his massive head. At once he felt sure that he was face to face with +the Master of England. Still he kept his sword's point raised for +another attack, and with a quiet frankness met the Conqueror's +imperious gaze. + +"Ha, monk! hast thou no fear of me?" cried William, frowning. + +"Lord King, hast thou no fear of God?" Rheinfrid retorted. + +For a moment the King's haughty eyes blazed with wrath, but William +ever loved a strong man and dauntless, and he laughed gaily: "Nay, thou +hast slain enough for one day; let us cry truce, and tell me of what +house thou comest." + +So Rheinfrid spoke to the King about Eovesholme, and the Abbot, and the +harbouring of the miserable fugitives, and told the tale of his own +fighting that day. And the great Norman was well pleased, and +afterwards he gave Agelwyn the custody of Winchcombe Abbey when the +abbot of that house fell under his displeasure. As for Rheinfrid he +took the woman and her babe into the town; and many others he rescued +and succoured, but he neither slew nor smote any man thereafter. + +Now for eight long years Rheinfrid lived in the quiet of the cloister, +striving to be patient and to await God's own time; and his daily +prayer was that of the Psalmist: "How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord? +For ever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?" + +In the ninth year, after long sickness, the soul of Agelwyn passed out +of the shadow of this flesh unto the clemency of God, and shortly after +his death a weariness of well-doing and a loathing of the dull days of +prayer beset Rheinfrid; and voices of the joy of life called to him to +strip off his cowl and flee from his living tomb. + +As he knelt struggling with the temptation the little Child crowned +with roses stood beside him, looking at him with sad reproachful eyes. +"Couldst thou not be patient a little while?" he asked. + +"A little while!" exclaimed Rheinfrid; "see! twelve, thirteen, long +years have gone by, and is that a little while?" + +But the Child answered gravely: "An evil thing is impatience with the +delays of God, to whom one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand +years as one day." + +And Rheinfrid knew not what reply to make, and as he hesitated the +Child began to fade away. "Do not go, do not go yet," he cried; "grant +me at least one prayer--that I shall see thee again at the time I shall +have most need of thee." + +And the Child smiled and answered: "Thou shalt see me." + +And the vision disappeared, but the fragrance of the roses lingered +long in the little cell. + + +Then was Walter the Norman made Abbot, and forthwith he began to build +a vast and beautiful minster, the fame of which should be rumoured +through all the land. Speedily he emptied the five great chests filled +with silver which Agelwyn had left, and then there set in a dearth of +timber and stone and money, but the Abbot bethought him of a device for +escaping from his difficulties. He took into his counsel the wise +monks Hereman and Rheinfrid, because they had both travelled through +many shires, and he entrusted to them the shrine containing the relics +of St. Egwin, and bade them go on a pilgrimage from one rich city to +another, making known their need, exhorting the people to charity, and +gathering gifts of all kinds for the building of the minster. So with +lay-brothers to serve them and a horse to carry the holy shrine, the +monks began their journey, and, singing joyful canticles, the +brotherhood accompanied them with cross and banners and burning tapers, +and set them well on their way beyond the river. + +Now think of Rheinfrid and Hereman traversing the wild England of those +olden times. One day they were wandering in the depths of the woods; +on another they were moving along some neglected Roman road, through +swamps and quagmires. Now they were passing hastily through the ruins +of some Saxon thorpe which had been burned by the Normans, or lodging +for the night as guests at some convent or priory, or crossing a +dangerous river-ford, or making a brief stay in a busy town to preach +and exhibit the shrine of the saint, so that the diseased and suffering +might be touched by the miraculous relics. And all along their journey +they gathered the offerings which the people brought them. + +"This, surely," thought Rheinfrid, "is the journey appointed me," and +his spirit was at last peaceful and contented. + +Now in the third week of their pilgrimage they came to a wide moor +which they had to cross. A heavy white mist lay on the lonely waste, +and they had not gone far among the heath and grey boulders before +Rheinfrid, absorbed in prayer, found himself separated from his +companions. He called aloud to them by their names, but no one +answered him. This way and that he wandered, still crying aloud, and +hoping to discover some trace of the faint path which led over the +moor. Suddenly he came to the brink of a vast chasm, the depth of +which was hidden by the mist. It was a terrible place and he thanked +God that he had not come thither in the darkness of the night. As he +gazed anxiously on all sides, wondering what he should do next, he +perceived through the vapour a tall dark figure. Approaching it, he +saw that it was a high stone cross, and he murmured gratefully, "Here I +am safe. The foot of Thy cross is an ever-lasting refuge." As he +ascended the rough granite steps, he noticed how wonderfully the cross +was sculptured, with a vine running up the shaft, and birds and small +wild creatures among the vine-leaves, and he was able to read, in the +centre, words from a famous old poem which he knew: + + _Rood is my name; long ago I bore a goodly King; trembling,_ + _dripping with blood._ + + +As he read them he became aware that some one had come out of the mist +and was standing near him. "In the darkness the danger is great," said +the stranger; "another step would have carried thee over the brink; and +none who have fallen therein have ever returned. But the wind is +rising, and this mist will speedily be lifted." + +While he was yet speaking a great draught of air drove the mist before +it, and shifted and lifted it, and rolled it like carded wool, and in +front all was clear, but the light was of an iron-grey transparency, +and Rheinfrid saw into the depths of the chasm into which he had +well-nigh fallen. + +Far down below lay the jagged ridges and ghastly abysses of a gigantic +crater, the black walls of which were so steep that it was impossible +to climb them. Smoke and steam rose in incessant puffs from the +innermost pit of the crater and trailed along the floor and about the +rocky spikes and jagged ridges. + +Then, as Rheinfrid gazed, his face grew pale, and he turned to the +stranger. + +"What are these," he asked, "men, or little statues of men, or +strangely shaped rocks?" + +"They are living men and women," said the stranger. + +"They seem as small as images," said Rheinfrid. + +"They are very far distant from us," replied the stranger, "although we +see them so clearly." + +"There seem to be hundreds of them standing in crowds," said Rheinfrid. + +"There are thousands and hundreds of thousands," said the stranger. + +"And they do not move; they are motionless as stone; they do not even +seem to breathe." + +"They are waiting," said the stranger. + +"Their faces are all turned upward; they are all staring in one way." + +"They are watching," said the stranger. + +"Why are they watching?" asked Rheinfrid; then looking up into the +iron-grey air in the same direction as the faces of the people in the +crater; "What huge ball is that hanging in the sky above them?" + +"It is a globe of polished stone--the stone adamant, which of all +stones is the hardest." + +"Why do they gaze at it so steadfastly?" + +"Not hard to say," replied the stranger. "Every hundred years a little +blue bird passes by, flying between them and the globe, and as it +passes it touches the stone with the tip of its wing. On the last day +of the hundredth year the people gather and watch with eager eyes all +day for the passing of the bird, and while they watch they do not +suffer. Now this is the last hour of the last day of the hundredth +year, and you see how they gaze." + +"But why do they watch to see the bird?" + +"Each time the bird passes it touches the stone, and every hundred +years it will thus touch it, till the stone be utterly worn away." + +"Ten thousand ages, and yet again ten thousand, and it will not have +been worn away," said Rheinfrid. "But when it has been worn away, what +then?" + +"Why, then," said the stranger, "Eternity will be no nearer to its end +than it is now. But see! see!" + +Rheinfrid looked, and beheld a little blue bird flash across the huge +ball of glimmering adamant, brush it with the tip of a single feather, +and dart onward. + +And down in the crater all the faces were turned away again, and the +crowd fell into such confusion as an autumn gale makes among the fallen +leaves in a spinney; and out of the innermost pit the smoke and steam +rose in clouds, till only the jagged ridges were visible; and a long +cry of a myriad voices deadened by the deep distance rose like the +terrible ghost of a cry from the abyss. + +And this was one of the Seven Cries of the World. + +For the Seven Cries of the World are these: the Cry of the Blood of +Abel, and the Cry of the Deluge of Waters, and the Cry for the +First-born of Egypt, and the Cry of the Cities of the Plain, and the +Cry of Rachel in Ramah, and the Cry in the darkness of the ninth hour, +and, more grievous than any of these, the Cry of the Doom of the Pit. + +"Truly," said Rheinfrid, shivering, "one day is as a thousand years in +the sight of the Lord." + + +"Come with me, and I will guide thee from this place," said the +stranger. And he led the way along the brink of the gulf till they +came to a bridge, high and narrow and fragile, glittering like glass; +but when Rheinfrid touched it he perceived it was built of ice, and +beneath it ran a fierce river of fire, and they felt the heat of the +river on their faces, and the ice of the bridge was dissolving away. + +"How shall I pass this without falling?" asked Rheinfrid. + +"Follow in my steps," said the stranger, "and all will be well." + +He led the way on the slippery ice-work of the bridge, and in great +fear and doubt Rheinfrid followed; but when they reached the crown of +the arch the stranger threw aside his cloak and spread six mighty +wings, and sprang from the bridge to the peak of a high mountain far +beyond the burning river. The bridge cracked and swayed, and pieces +broke away from the icy parapet. + +With a shriek of terror Rheinfrid sank down, and called upon God to +help him. Then as he prayed he felt wings growing on his shoulders, +and a terrible eager joy and dread possessed him, for he felt the ice +of the bridge melting away, and the water of the melting ice was +splashing like rain on the river of fire, and as each drop fell a +little puff of white steam arose from the place where it fell. So, +unable to wait till the wings had grown full, he rose to his feet, and +attempted to follow the Angel. But his wings were too weak to bear +him, and he fell clinging to the bridge, which shook beneath him. + +Once more he prayed; once more his impatience urged him to rise; and +once more he fell. And the melted ice rained hissing into the river of +fire, and the quick whiffs of white vapour came up from the surface. + +Then he committed himself to God's keeping, and waited in meekness and +fortitude, saying, "Whether we live or we die we are in Thy charge," +and it seemed to him that, so long as it was God's will, it mattered +not at all what happened--whether the bridge crumbled away, dissolving +like a rainbow in the clouds, or whether his body were engulfed in the +torrent of burning. + +Then straightway, as he submitted himself thus, his wings grew large +and strong, and he felt the power of them lifting him to his feet, and +with what seemed no more than the effort of a wish he sprang from +narrow way of ice and stood beside the Angel on the mountain. + +"Hadst thou not been twice impatient in the cloister," said the Angel, +"thy wings would not have twice failed thee on the bridge. Now, look +around and see!" + + +Who shall tell the loveliness of the land on which Rheinfrid now gazed +from the mountain? To breathe the clear shining air was in itself +beatitude. He saw angelic figures and heard the singing of angels in +the heavenly gardens glittering far below, and he longed to fly down to +their blessed companionship. Suddenly over the tree-tops of a golden +glade he descried a starry globe which shone like chrysoprase, and +round and round it a little blue bird flew joyously. And so swiftly it +flew that hardly had it gone before it had returned again. + +Rheinfrid turned to the Angel to question him, but the Angel, who was +aware of his thoughts, said, "Yes, it is the same globe, only we see it +now from the other side. Each circle that the bird makes is a hundred +years; for five hundred already have you been here, but you must now +return." + +Then the Angel touched the monk's head, and Rheinfrid closed his eyes, +and in an instant it seemed to him as though he were awaking from a +long sleep. Cold and rigid were his limbs, and as he tried to sit up +each movement made them ache. He found that he had been lying under an +aged oak. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, and a white lichen +which had overgrown them peeled off in long threads. A heavy white +beard, tangled with grey moss, covered his breast, and the hair of his +head, white and matted with green tendrils, had grown about his body. + +Slowly and painfully he moved from tree to tree till he reached a broad +road, and saw before him a bridge, and beyond the river a fair town +clustered on the higher ground. So strange a town he had never beheld +before--such a town as one sees in a foreign land, built with quaint +roofs and gables and curiously coloured. As he crossed the bridge he +met a woman who stared at him in amazement. He raised his head to +speak, but he had lost the power of utterance. The woman waited; and +at last with a feeble stammering speech he asked her the name of the +place. She shook her head and said she did not understand his words, +and with a look of pity she went on her way. + +Then down to the bridge came an urchin, and Rheinfrid repeated his +question. + +"This is Eovesholme," said the lad. + +"That cannot be," said Rheinfrid, "for it is little more than twice +seven days since I left Eovesholme, and this place is noway like the +place you name." + +"Nay, but it is Eovesholme," replied the lad, "and you are one of the +monks who used to be here before the King pulled down the Abbey." + +"Pulled down the Abbey! Hath King William pulled down the Abbey?" +Rheinfrid asked in bewilderment. + +"Nay, it is bluff King Hal who has pulled the Abbey down. Come, and +you shall see." + +The lad took Rheinfrid by the hand and led him through the streets till +they came to the ruins. Only one beautiful sculptured arch was left +standing, but Rheinfrid had never seen it before. They passed through +and stood among a litter of stones, tumbled drums of pillars and +fragments of carved mouldings and capitals. Rheinfrid recognised the +spot. The land was the same, and the river, and the far hills, but +nearly all the forest had been cleared, and the Abbey had vanished. +What had happened to him and to them? + +"Hast thou where to pass the night, old father?" the lad asked. + +Rheinfrid shook his head sorrowfully. + +"Then I will show thee a place," he said. + +And again he took Rheinfrid by the hand, and let him among the ruins +till they came to a flight of stone steps which led down into the crypt +of the minster. These they descended, and there was a dim light in the +place, and Rheinfrid's heart beat quickly, for he knew the pillars and +vaulted roofs and walls of this undercroft. + +"Here you may rest peacefully and sleep well," said the urchin; "no one +will venture here to disturb your slumber." + +"Sorrow be far from thee, little son," said Rheinfrid, speaking he +perceived that it was the Child, and that the Child's head was crowned +with roses and that he carried a rose in his hand. + +Then the aged monk sank on the cold stones of his old minster, faint +and happy, for he knew now that he had finished his journey. But the +Child touched Rheinfrid's brow with the rose he carried, and the old +man fell asleep, and all the crypt was dark. + + + + +Lighting the Lamps + +Now that it was the cool of the day (when God walked in Paradise), and +the straggling leaves of the limes were swaying in the fresh stream of +the breeze, and the book was finished--this very book--and at last, +after many busy evenings I was free to do as I pleased, W. V. and I +slipped away on a quiet stroll before bedtime. + +It was really very late for a little girl--nearly nine o'clock; but +when one _is_ a little girl a walk between sunset and dark is like a +ramble in fairyland; and after the heat of the day the air was sweet +and pleasant, and in the west there still lingered a beautiful +afterglow. + +We went a little way in the direction of the high trees of Caen Wood, +where, you know, William the Conqueror had a hunting lodge; and as we +passed under the green fringes of the rowans and the birches which +overhung the pathway, it was delightful to think that perchance over +this very ground on which we were walking the burly Master of England +may have galloped in chase of the tall deer. + +"He loved them as if he were their father," said W. V., glancing up at +me with a laugh. "My history book says that. But it wasn't very nice +to kill them if he loved them, was it, father?" + +We turned down the new road they are making. It runs quite into the +fields for some distance, and then goes sharp to the right. A pleasant +smell of hay was blowing up the road, and when we reached the angle we +saw two old stacks and the beginning of a new one; and the next field +had been mown and was dotted with haycocks. + +On the half-finished road a steam roller stood, with its tarpaulin +drawn over it for the night. In the field, along the wooden fence, +some loads of dross had been shot between the haycocks; lengths of sod +had been stripped off the soil and thrown in a heap, and planks had +been laid down for the wheelbarrows. A rake, which some haymaker had +left, stood planted in the ground, teeth uppermost; beside it a +labourer's barrow lay overturned. A few yards away a thick elderberry +bush was growing dim in the twilight, and its bunches of blossom looked +curiously white and spectral. + +I think even W. V. felt it strange to see this new road so brusquely +invading the ancient fields. I looked across the frank natural acres +(as if they were a sort of wild creature), stretching away with their +hedgerows and old trees to the blue outline of the hills on the +horizon, and wondered how much longer one might see the rose-red of +sunset showing through interlaced branches, or dark knots of coppice +silhouetted against the grey-green breadths of tranquil twilight. + +When we went a little further we caught sight among the trees of some +out-buildings of the farm. What a lost, pathetic look they had! + +Thinking of the stories in my book, it seemed to me that the scene +before me was a figure of the change which took place when the life we +know invaded and absorbed the strange mediaeval life which we know no +longer, and which it is now so difficult to realise. + + +Slowly the afterglow faded; when you looked carefully for a star, here +and there a little speck of gold could be found in the heavens; the +birds were all in their nests, head under wing; white and grey moths +were beginning to flutter to and fro. + +Suddenly over the fields the sound of church-bells floated to us. + +"Is that the Angelus, father?" asked W. V. + +"No, dear; I think it must be the ringers practising." + +"If it had been the Angelus, would St. Francis have stood still to say +the prayer?" + +"I think he would have knelt down to say it. That would be more like +St. Francis." + +"And would William the Conqueror?" + +"Why, no; I fancy he would have taken it for the curfew bell." + +"They do still ring the curfew bell in some places, don't they, father?" + +"Oh yes; in several places; but, of course, they don't cover up their +fires." + +"I like to hear of those old bells; don't you, father?" + + +As we reached the end of the new road we saw the man lighting the lamp +there; and we watched him going quickly from one post to another, +leaving a little flower of fire wherever he stopped. All was very +quiet, and, as he went down the street, we could hear the sound of his +footsteps growing fainter and fainter in the distance. All our +streets, you must know, are lined with trees, trees both in the gardens +and on the side-walks, and the lamps glittered among the leaves and +branches like so many stars. When we passed under them we noticed how +the light tinged the foliage that was nearest with a greenish +ash-colour, almost like the undersides of aspen-leaves. + +"Isn't it just like a fairy village?" asked W. V. + + +On our way down our own street I pointed silently to the Forest. High +over the billowy outline of the darkened tree-tops the church of the +Oak-men was clear against the weather-gleam. W. V. nodded: "I expect +all the Oak boys and girls have said, 'God bless this house from thatch +to floor,' and gone to bed long ago." Since she heard the story of the +Guardians of the Door, that has been her own favourite prayer at +bed-time. + +Thinking of the lighting of the lamps after she had been safely tucked +in, I tried to make her a little song about it. I don't think she will +like it as much as she liked the actual lighting of the lamps, but in +years to come it may remind her of that delightful spectacle. + + + + +THE LAMPLIGHTER + + From lamp to lamp, from street to street, + He speeds with faintlier echoing feet, + A pause--a glint of light! + And, lamp by lamp, with stars he marks his round. + + So Love, when least of Love we dream, + Comes in the dusk with magic gleam. + A pause--a touch--so slight! + And life with clear celestial lights is crowned. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Child's Book of Saints, by William Canton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHILD'S BOOK OF SAINTS *** + +***** This file should be named 22112.txt or 22112.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/1/1/22112/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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