My vocation to the monastic life was thus, according to my own opinion,
rendered clear and unalterable. On that very day after the fatal music
party, I hastened, as soon as I could escape from my usual studies in
the school, to the Capuchin Prior, and informed him that it was my fixed
intention directly to begin my noviciate, and that I had already, by
letters, announced my design to my mother, and to the Abbess. Leonardus
seemed surprised at my sudden zeal, and without being impolitely urgent,
he yet endeavoured, by one means or another, to find out what could have
led me all at once to this resolve, to which he rightly concluded that
some extraordinary event must have given rise.
A painful emotion of shame, which I could not overcome, prevented me
from telling the truth. On the other hand, I dwelt, with all the
fervour of excitement, on the visions, warnings, and strange adventures
of my youth, which all seemed decidedly to point to a monastic
retirement. Without in the least disputing the authenticity of the
events which I had described, he suggested that I might, nevertheless,
have drawn from them false conclusions, as there was no certainty that I
had interpreted correctly the warnings, whatever they might be, which I
had received.
Indeed, the Prior did not at any time speak willingly of supernatural
agency--not even of those instances recorded by inspired writers, so
that there were moments in which I had almost set him down for an
infidel and a sceptic. Once I emboldened myself so far, as to force from
him some decided expressions as to the adversaries of our Catholic
faith, who stigmatize all belief of that which cannot be interpreted
according to the laws of our corporeal senses, with the name of
Superstition. "My son," said Leonardus, "infidelity itself is indeed the
worst species of that mental weakness, which, under the name of
Superstition, such people ascribe to believers." Thereafter he directly
changed the subject to lighter and more ordinary topics of discourse.
Not till long afterwards was I able to enter into his admirable views of
the mysteries of our religion, which involves the supernatural communing
of our spirits with beings of a celestial order, and was then obliged to
confess, that Leonardus, with great propriety, reserved these ideas for
students who were sufficiently advanced in years and experience.
I now received a letter from my mother, describing new visions and
warnings, such as those to which I had attached so much importance in my
conversation with the Prior. She had by this means long since
anticipated that the situation of a lay brother would not satisfy my
wishes, but that I would make choice of the conventual life. On St
Medardus' day, the old Pilgrim from the Holy Lime-Tree had appeared to
her, and had led me by the hand, in the habit of a Capuchin monk. The
Princess also completely approved of my resolution; which accordingly
was carried as rapidly as possible into effect.
I saw both of them once more before my investiture, which (as, according
to my earnest request, the half of my noviciate was dispensed with) very
soon followed. In conformity with my mother's last letter, I assumed
the conventual name of Medardus.
* * * * *
The reciprocal confidence and friendship of the brethren with regard to
each other--the internal arrangements of the convent--and, in short, the
whole mode of life among the Capuchins, appeared to me for a long time
exactly as it had done at first. That composure of spirit, which was
universally apparent, failed not by sympathy to pour the balm of peace
into my soul; and I was visited often by delightful inspirations,
especially by faery dreams, derived from the period of my earliest years
in the Convent of the Holy Lime-Tree.
I must not omit to mention, that, during the solemn act of my
investiture, I beheld the choir-master's sister. She looked quite sunk
in melancholy, and her eyes evidently shone in tears. But the time of
temptation was now past and gone; and, perhaps, out of a sinful pride
over a triumph too easily won, I could not help smiling, which did not
fail to be remarked by a certain monk, named Cyrillus, who at that
moment stood near me. "What makes you so merry, brother?" said
he.--"When I am renouncing this contemptible world," said I, "and its
vanities, ought I not to rejoice?"
It was not to be denied, however, that, at the moment when I pronounced
these words, an involuntary feeling of regret vibrated through my inmost
heart, and was at direct variance with what I had said. Yet this was the
last attack of earthly passion, after which composure of spirit
gradually gained complete ascendancy. Oh, had it never departed! But who
may trust to the strength of his armour? Who may rely on his own
courage, if the supernatural and unseen powers of darkness are combined
against him, and for ever on the watch?
* * * * *
I had now been five years in the convent, when, according to
arrangements made by the Prior, the care of the reliquiary chamber was
transferred to me from Brother Cyrillus, who was now become old and
infirm.
In this room (it was an old grotesque Gothic chamber) there were all
sorts of devotional treasures:--bones of the saints, and remnants of
their dress--fragments of the cross, &c. etc.--which were preserved in
costly glass cases, set in silver, and exposed to view only on certain
days, for the edification of the people. When the transfer of duties
took place, Brother Cyrillus fully acquainted me with the character of
each article, and with the documents proving the miracles which the
relics had severally performed.
In regard to talents and literary acquirements, this monk stood next in
rank to the Prior Leonardus, for which reason I had the less hesitation
in imparting to him freely whatever doubts or difficulties came into my
mind. "Must we, then," said I, "absolutely and truly, look upon every
article in this collection as that for which it is given out? or,
rather, may not avarice and deceit have here foisted in many things as
relics of this or that saint, which in reality are base impostures? As,
for example, what shall we say if one convent, according to its
archives, possesses the whole cross, and yet there are so many fragments
in circulation, that (as a brother of our own once irreverently
observed) they might, if collected together, supply our house for a
whole twelvemonth with fuel?"
"Truly," said Cyrillus, "it does not become us to subject matters of
this kind to profane inquiry; but, to speak unreservedly, my opinion is,
that very few of the things which are here preserved really are that
which they are given out to be. But in this there seems to be no real or
important objection whatever. If you will take notice, Brother Medardus,
of the doctrine which the Prior and I have always held on these
mysteries, you will, on the contrary, perceive that our religion only
beams forth more and more in renovated lustre.
"Is it not worthy of admiration, dear Brother, that our Church
endeavours in such manner to catch hold of those mysterious links, which
in this world connect together sensual and spiritual existences--in
other words, so to influence our corporeal frame, that our higher origin
and dependance on the Divinity may be more clearly perceived--that we
may enjoy, too, the anticipation of that spiritual life, of which we
bear the germs within us, and of which a fore-feeling hovers around us,
as if like the fanning of seraph's wings?
"What is this or that morsel of wood--that crumbling bone, or fragment
of cloth? In themselves they are, of course, worthless; but it is said,
that the one was cut from the real cross, and that the others are from
the body or garment of a saint. Hence, to the believer, who, without
scrutinizing, takes the relic for what it is _said to be_, is directly
supplied a source of supernatural excitement, and the most enviable
associations. Hence, too, is awoke the spiritual influence of that saint
from whom the relic is derived; and he draws consolation and support
from that glorified being, whom, with full confidence and faith, he had
invoked. By this kind of excitement, also, there is no doubt that many
bodily diseases may be overcome, and in this manner, for the most part,
are effected the miracles, which, as they often take place before the
eyes of the assembled people, it is impossible to dispute or deny."
I recollected immediately many expressions of the Prior which
corresponded exactly with those now used by Cyrillus, and began to look
on these things which I had formerly regarded as mere toys and baubles,
with a degree of respect and devotional veneration. The old monk did not
fail to perceive this effect of his own discourse, and went on, with
increased zeal and energy, to explain, one by one, the remaining
relics.