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Gabriel . and . the Hour . Book
Roses of St. Elizabeth Series
Evaleen.Stein.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK
Roses of St. Elizabeth Series
Each 1 vol., small quarto, illustrated and decorated
in colour. $1.00
The Roses of Saint Elizabeth
BY JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF
Gabriel and the Hour Book
BY EVALEEN STEIN
The Enchanted Automobile
_Translated from the French by_
MARY J. SAFFORD
Pussy-Cat Town
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building
BOSTON, MASS.
[Illustration: _Gabriel_]
Roses of St. Elizabeth Series
Gabriel and the Hour Book
BY Evaleen Stein
_ILLUSTRATED IN COLOURS BY_
Adelaide Everhart
L. C. Page & Company
Boston Mcmvi
_Copyright, 1906, by
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(Incorporated)_
_All rights reserved_
_First Impression, July, 1906_
_COLONIAL PRESS_
_Electrotyped and Printed by C.H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U.S.A._
TO
=My friend=
CAROLINE H. GRIFFITHS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Little Colour Grinder 1
II. Brother Stephen's Inspiration 19
III. Gabriel Interviews the Abbot 35
IV. The Hour Book 49
V. The Count's Tax 65
VI. Gabriel's Prayer 74
VII. The Book Goes to Lady Anne 89
VIII. Lady Anne Writes to the King 99
IX. The King's Messenger 116
X. Gabriel's Christmas 136
XI. The King's Illuminator 162
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Gabriel _Frontispiece_
"He saw the Abbot walking up and down" 38
"Dreaming of all the beautiful things he meant to paint" 59
"Taking down the book . . . he unwrapped and unclasped it" 95
"Began slowly to turn over the pages" 105
"He passed a little peasant boy" 142
Gabriel and the Hour Book
CHAPTER I.
THE LITTLE COLOUR GRINDER
IT was a bright morning of early April, many hundred years ago; and
through all the fields and meadows of Normandy the violets and
cuckoo-buds were just beginning to peep through the tender green of the
young grass. The rows of tall poplar-trees that everywhere, instead of
fences, served to mark off the farms of the country folk, waved in the
spring wind like great, pale green plumes; and among their branches the
earliest robins and field-fares were gaily singing as a little boy
stepped out from a small thatched cottage standing among the fields, and
took his way along the highroad.
That Gabriel Viaud was a peasant lad, any one could have told from the
blouse of blue homespun, and the wooden shoes which he wore; and that he
felt the gladness of the April time could easily be known by the happy
little song he began to sing to himself, and by the eager delight with
which he now and then stooped to pluck a blue violet or to gather a
handful of golden cuckoo-buds.
A mile or two behind him, and hidden by a bend in the road, lay the
little village of St. Martin-de-Bouchage; while in the soft blue
distance ahead of him rose the gray walls of St. Martin's Abbey, whither
he was going.
Indeed, for almost a year now the little boy had been trudging every day
to the Abbey, where he earned a small sum by waiting upon the good
brothers who dwelt there, and who made the beautiful painted books for
which the Abbey had become famous. Gabriel could grind and mix their
colours for them, and prepare the parchment on which they did their
writing, and could do many other little things that helped them in their
work.
The lad enjoyed his tasks at the Abbey, and, above all, delighted in
seeing the beautiful things at which the brothers were always busy; yet,
as he now drew near the gateway, he could not help but give a little
sigh, for it was so bright and sunny out-of-doors. He smiled, though, as
he looked at the gay bunches of blossoms with which he had quite filled
his hands, and felt that at least he was taking a bit of the April in
with him, as he crossed the threshold and entered a large room.
"Good morrow, Gabriel," called out several voices as he came in, for the
lad was a general favourite with the brothers; and Gabriel, respectfully
taking off his blue peasant cap, gave a pleasant "good morrow" to each.
The room in which he stood had plain stone walls and a floor of paved
stone, and little furniture, except a number of solidly made benches and
tables. These were placed beneath a row of high windows, and the tables
were covered with writing and painting materials and pieces of
parchment; for the brotherhood of St. Martin's was very industrious.
In those days,--it was four hundred years ago,--printed books were very
few, and almost unknown to most people; for printing-presses had been
invented only a few years, and so by far the greater number of books in
the world were still made by the patient labour of skilful hands; the
work usually being done by the monks, of whom there were very many at
that time.
These monks, or brothers, as they were often called, lived in
monasteries and abbeys, and were men who banded themselves together in
brotherhoods, taking solemn vows never to have homes of their own or to
mingle in the daily life of others, but to devote their lives to
religion; for they believed that they could serve God better by thus
shutting themselves off from the world.
And so it came about that the brothers, having more time and more
learning than most other people of those days, made it their chief work
to preserve and multiply all the books that were worth keeping. These
they wrote out on parchment (for paper was very scarce so long ago), and
then ornamented the pages with such beautiful painted borders of flowers
and birds and saints and angels, and such lovely initial letters, all in
bright colours and gold, that to this day large numbers of the beautiful
books made by the monks are still kept among the choicest treasures of
the museums and great libraries of the world.
And few of all those wonderful old illuminations (for so the painted
ornaments were called) were lovelier than the work of the brotherhood of
St. Martin's. Gabriel felt very proud even to grind the colours for
them. But as he passed over to one of the tables and began to make ready
his paint mortar, the monk who had charge of the writing-room called to
him, saying:
"Gabriel, do not get out thy work here, for the Abbot hath just ordered
that some one must help Brother Stephen, who is alone in the old
chapter-house. He hath a special book to make, and his colour-grinder is
fallen ill; so go thou at once and take Jacques's place."
So Gabriel left the writing-room and passed down the long corridor that
led to the chapter-house. This was a room the brothers had kept for
years as a meeting-place, when they and the Abbot, who governed them
all, wished to talk over the affairs of the Abbey; but as it had at last
grown too small for them, they had built a new and larger one; and so
the old chapter-house was seldom used any more.
Gabriel knew this, and he wondered much why Brother Stephen chose to
work there rather than in the regular writing-room with the others. He
supposed, however, that, for some reason of his own, Brother Stephen
preferred to be alone.
He did not know that the monk, at that moment, was sitting moodily by
his work-table, his eyes staring aimlessly ahead of him, and his hands
dropped idly in his lap. For Brother Stephen was feeling very cross and
unhappy and out of sorts with all the world. And this was the reason:
poor Brother Stephen had entered the Abbey when a lad scarcely older
than Gabriel. He had come of good family, but had been left an orphan
with no one to care for him, and for want of other home had been sent to
the Abbey, to be trained for the brotherhood; for in those days there
were few places where fatherless and motherless children could be taken
care of.
As little Jean (for this was his name before he joined the monks, when
one's own name was always changed) grew up, he took the solemn vows
which bound him to the rules of the brotherhood without realizing what
it all would mean to him; for Brother Stephen was a born artist; and, by
and by, he began to feel that while life in the Abbey was well for most
of the brothers, for him it was not well. He wanted to be free to wander
about the world; to paint pictures of many things; and to go from city
to city, and see and study the work of the world's great artists.
It is true he spent the greater part of his time in the Abbey working on
the illuminated books, and this he loved; yet it did not wholly satisfy
him. He longed to paint other things, and, above all, his artist nature
longed for freedom from all the little rules of daily life that
governed the days of the brotherhood.
Brother Stephen had brooded much over this desire for freedom, and only
the day before had sought out the Abbot of St. Martin's and asked to be
released from the vows of obedience which he had taken years before, but
which now he found so hard to live up to. But, to his great
disappointment, the Abbot had refused to grant his request.
The Abbot had several reasons for this refusal; one of them was that he
himself dearly loved all the little daily ceremonies of the Abbey, and
he could not understand why any one who had once lived there could
prefer a life in the world. He really thought it was for Brother
Stephen's own good that he should stay in the brotherhood.
And then, too, perhaps there was another reason less to the Abbot's
credit; and this reason was that of all the beautiful illuminated books
for which the Abbey of St. Martin's had become so famous, none were
quite so exquisitely done as those made by Brother Stephen. So perhaps
the Abbot did not wish to lose so skilful an artist from the work-room
of the Abbey, and especially at this particular time. For just before
Brother Stephen had had his talk with the Abbot, a messenger from the
city of Paris had come to the Abbey, bearing an order from the king,
Louis XII., who reigned over France, and Normandy also, which was a part
of France.
Now the following winter, the king was to wed the Lady Anne of Bretagne;
and as Lady Anne was a great admirer and collector of beautiful painted
books, the king thought no gift would please his bride quite so much as
a piece of fine illumination; and he decided that it should be an hour
book. These books were so called because in them were written different
parts of the Bible, intended to be read at certain hours of the day; for
most people at that time were very devout, and the great ladies
especially were very fond of having their hour books made as beautiful
as possible.
As King Louis thought over the best places where he might have his
bride's gift painted, at last he made up his mind to send to the monks
of St. Martin's. He commanded that the hour book be done in the most
beautiful style, and that it must be finished by the following December.
The Abbot was delighted with the honour the king had shown the Abbey in
sending this order; and he determined that Brother Stephen should stay
and make the entire book, as no one else wrote so evenly, or made quite
such lovely initials and borders as did he.
When the Abbot told this to Brother Stephen, however, it was a pity
that he did so in such a cold and haughty way that altogether Brother
Stephen's anger was aroused, for he had a rather unruly temper; and so,
smarting under the disappointment of not receiving his liberty, and
feeling that the book for Lady Anne was one cause of this, he had spoken
angrily and disrespectfully to the Abbot, and refused point-blank to
touch the king's order.
At this the Abbot in his turn became angry, and declared that Brother
Stephen should be compelled to paint the hour book whether he wished to
or not; that he must do it as punishment for his unruly conduct; and the
Abbot threatened, moreover, that if he did not obey, he would be placed
under the ban of the Church, which was considered by all the brotherhood
as a dreadful misfortune.
And so with this threat hanging over him, that very morning, just before
Gabriel reached the Abbey, Brother Stephen had been sent to the old
chapter-house, where he was ordered to work by himself, and to begin the
book at once. And to complete his humiliation, and for fear he might try
to run away, the Abbot caused him to be chained to one of the legs of
the heavy work-table; and this chain he was to wear every day during
working hours.
Now all this made Brother Stephen very angry and unhappy, and his heart
was full of bitterness toward the Abbot and all of the brotherhood and
the world in general, when all at once he heard Gabriel's knock at the
door; and then, in another moment, the door was softly pushed open, and
there, on the threshold, stood the little boy.