Reade_The_Cloister_and_the_Hearth.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
gave me that minute the
great summons; 'twas some cord of life snapped in me. is very
pitiful. should have lived unhappy; but said, '; enough is
done, enough is suffered; poor feeble, loving servant, thy
shortcomings are forgiven, thy sorrows touch thine end; come thou
to thy rest!' come, , come!"
groaned. " had ever her holy but feeble
servants," he said. " would give ten years of my life to save
thine. see it may not be. in peace."
so it was that in a few days more lay a-dying in a
frame of mind so holy and happy, that more than one aged saint was
there to garner his dying words. the evening he had seen ,
and begged him not to let poor starve; and to see that little
's trustees did their duty, and to kiss his parents for him,
and to send to his friends in : " thing, he will
feel so strange here without his comrade." after that he had
an interview with alone. passed between them was never
distinctly known; but it must have been something remarkable, for
went from the door with his hands crossed on his breast,
his high head lowered, and sighing as he went.
two monks that watched with him till matins related that all
through the night he broke out from time to time in pious
ejaculations, and praises, and thanksgivings; only once they said
he wandered, and thought he saw her walking in green meadows with
other spirits clad in white, and beckoning him; and they all
smiled and beckoned him. both these monks said (but it might
have been fancy) that just before dawn there came three light taps
against the wall, one after another, very slow; and the dying man
heard them, and said,
" come, love, come."
much is certain, that did utter these words, and
prepare for his departure, having uttered them. sent for all
the monks who at that hour were keeping vigil. came, and
hovered like gentle spirits round him with holy words. prayed
in silence for him with their faces touching the ground, others
tenderly supported his head. when one of them said something
about his life of self-denial and charity, he stopped him, and
addressing them all said, " dear brethren, take note that he who
here dies so happy holds not these new-fangled doctrines of man's
merit. , what a miserable hour were this to me an if did! ,
but hold, with the , and their pupils in the , the
ancient fathers, that we are justified not by our own wisdom, or
piety, or the works we have done in holiness of heart, but by
faith.'"[1]
there was silence, and the monks looked at one another
significantly.
" you sweep the floor," said the dying , in a voice
to which all its clearance and force seemed supernaturally
restored.
instantly obeyed, not without a sentiment of awe and
curiosity.
" me a great cross with wood ashes."
strewed the ashes in form of a great upon the floor.
" lay me down on it, for so will die."
they took him gently from his bed, and laid him on the cross
of wood ashes.
" we spread out thine arms, dear brother?"
" forbid! worthy of that?"
lay silent, but with his eyes raised in ecstasy.
he spoke half to them, half to himself, "," he said,
with a subdued but concentrated rapture, " feel it buoyant.
lifts me floating in the sky whence my merits had sunk me like
lead."
broke; and displayed his face cast upward in silent rapture,
and his hands together; like 's.
just about the hour she died he spoke his last word in this
world.
"!"
even with that word - he fell asleep.
laid him out for his last resting-place.
his linen they found a horse-hair shirt.
"!" cried the young monks, "behold a saint!"
the hair cloth they found a long thick tress of auburn hair.
started, and were horrified; and a babel of voices arose,
some condemning, some excusing.
the midst of which came in, and hearing the dispute,
turned to an ardent young monk called , who was crying
scandal the loudest, "," said he, "is she alive or dead that
owned this hair?"
" may know, father?"
" for aught you know it may be the relic of a saint?"
" it may be," said sceptically.
" have then broken our rule, which saith, ' ill construction
on no act done by a brother which can be construed innocently.'
are you to judge such a man as this was? go to your cell, and
stir not out for a week by way of penance."
then carried off the lock of hair.
when the coffin was to be closed, he cleared the cell: and put
the tress upon the dead man's bosom. ", ," said he to
the dead face. set himself a penance for doing it; and nailed
the coffin up himself.
next day was buried in churchyard. monks
followed him in procession from the convent. , who was
evidently carrying out the wishes of the deceased, read the
service. grave was a deep one, and at the bottom of it was a
lead coffin. 's, light as a feather (so wasted was he),
was lowered, and placed by the side of it.
the service said a few words to the crowd of
parishioners that had come to take the last look at their best
friend. he spoke of the virtues of the departed loud wailing
and weeping burst forth, and tears fell upon the coffin like rain.
monks went home. collected them in the refectory and
spoke to them thus: " have this day laid a saint in the earth.
convent will keep his trentals, but will feast, not fast; for
our good brother is freed from the burden of the flesh; his
labours are over, and he has entered into his joyful rest. alone
shall fast, and do penance; for to my shame say it, was unjust
to him, and knew not his worth till it was too late. you,
young monks, be not curious to inquire whether a lock he bore on
his bosom was a token of pure affection or the relic of a saint;
but remember the heart he wore beneath: most of all, fix your eyes
upon his life and conversation, and follow them an ye may: for he
was a holy man."
after life's fitful fever these true lovers were at peace.
grave, kinder to them than the , united them for ever;
and now a man of another age and nation, touched with their fate,
has laboured to build their tombstone, and rescue them from long
and unmerited oblivion.
asks for them your sympathy, but not your pity.
, put this story to a wholesome use.
must often give false views of life and death. as it
happens, curbed by history, she gives you true ones. the
barrier that kept these true lovers apart prepare you for this,
that here on earth there will nearly always be some obstacle or
other to your perfect happiness; to their early death apply your
and your , by way of exercise and preparation. if
you cannot bear to be told that these died young, who had they
lived a hundred years would still be dead, how shall you bear to
see the gentle, the loving, and the true glide from your own bosom
to the grave, and fly from your house to heaven?
this is in store for you. every age the of life and
death, who is kinder as well as wiser than we are, has
transplanted to heaven, young, earth's sweetest flowers.
ask your sympathy, then, for their rare constancy and pure
affection, and their cruel separation by a vile heresy[2] in the
bosom of the ; but not your pity for their early but happy
end.
' sunt qui in moriuntur.
[1] was citing from of -
ou di eautwn dikaioumetha oude dia tys ymeteras
sophias, y eusebeias y ergwn wn kateirgasametha en
osioteeti karthias, alla dia tys pistews.
- .ad , i. 32.
[2] of the clergy, an invention truly fiendish.
compliance with a despise, but have not the spirit to
resist, linger on the stage to pick up the smaller fragments of
humanity have scattered about; i.e. some of them, for the
wayside characters have no claim on me; they have served their
turn if they have persuaded the reader that travelled from
to through human beings, and not through a population
of dolls.
and lived to a great age: lived so long, that both
and grew to be dim memories. also was
longaevous; he went to the court of , and was alive there
at ninety, but had somehow turned into bones and leather, trumpet
toned.
, free from all rivals, and forgiven long ago by his
mother, who clung to him more and more now all her brood was
scattered, waited and waited and waited for his parents' decease.
's shrewd word came true; ere she and her mate wore
out, this worthy rusted away. sixty-five he lay dying of old
age in his mother's arms, a hale woman of eighty-six. had lain
unconscious a while, but came to himself in articulo mortis, and
seeing her near him, told her how he would transform the shop and
premises as soon as they should be his. ", my darling," said
the poor old woman soothingly, and in another minute he was clay,
and that clay was followed to the grave by all the feet whose
shoes he had waited for.
, broken-hearted at his comrade's death, was glad to return
to , and there a small pension the court allowed him kept
him until unexpectedly he inherited a considerable sum from a
relation. was known in his native place for many years as a
crusty old soldier, who could tell good stories of war when he
chose, and a bitter railer against women.
, disgusted with northern laxity, retired to , and
having high connections became at seventy a mitred abbot. put
on the screw of discipline; his monks revered and hated him.
ruled with iron rod ten years. one night he died, alone; for
he had not found the way to a single heart. was on his
pillow, and the crucifix in his hand, and on his lips something
more like a smile than was ever seen there while he lived; so
that, methinks, at that awful hour he was not quite alone.
in pace. he served has many servants, and
they have many minds, and now and then a faithful one will be a
surly one, as it is in these our mortal mansions.
yellow-haired laddie, , belongs not to
but to . has recorded his birth in other terms than
mine. the tailor's house in the she has
inscribed
" ;"
and she has written half-a-dozen lives of him. there is
something left for her yet to do. has no more comprehended
magnum , than any other pigmy comprehends a giant, or
partisan a judge.
scholar and divine of his epoch, he was also the heaven-born
dramatist of his century. of the best scenes in this new book
are from his mediaeval pen, and illumine the pages where they
come; for the words of a genius so high as his are not born to
die: their immediate work upon mankind fulfilled, they may seem to
lie torpid; but at each fresh shower of intelligence pours
upon their students, they prove their immortal race: they revive,
they spring from the dust of great libraries; they bud, they
flower, they fruit, they seed, from generation to generation, and
from age to age.