Well, then, on a certain evening after a day of rain, while he was
walking, sad and bent, carrying under his arm his balls and knives
wrapped up in his old carpet, and seeking for some barn in which he
might lie down supperless, he saw on the road a monk who was travelling
the same way, and saluted him decorously. As they were walking at an
equal pace, they began to exchange remarks.
“Comrade,” said the monk, “how comes it that you are habited all in
green? Is it not for the purpose of taking the character of a fool in
some mystery-play?”
“Not for that purpose, father,” responded Barnabas. “Such as you see
me, I am named Barnabas, and I am by calling a juggler. It would be the
most beautiful occupation in the world if one could eat every day.”
“Friend Barnabas,” replied the monk, “take care what you say. There
is no more beautiful calling than the monastic state. Therein one
celebrates the praises of God, the Virgin, and the saints, and the life
of a monk is a perpetual canticle to the Lord.”
Barnabas answered:
“Father, I confess that I have spoken like an ignoramus. Your calling
may not be compared with mine, and, although there is some merit in
dancing while holding on the tip of the nose a coin balanced on a
stick, this merit does not approach yours. I should like very well to
sing every day, as you do, Father, the office of the most Holy Virgin,
to whom I have vowed a particular devotion. I would right willingly
renounce my calling, in which I am known from Soissons to Beauvais,
in more than six hundred towns and villages, in order to embrace the
monastic life.”
The monk was touched by the simplicity of the juggler, and, as he did
not lack discernment, he recognized in Barnabas one of those men of
good purpose whereof our Lord said: “Let peace abide with them on
earth!” This is why he replied to him:
“Friend Barnabas, come with me, and I will enable you to enter the
monastery of which I am the prior. He who conducted Mary the Egyptian
through the desert has placed me on your path to lead you in the way of
salvation.”
This is how Barnabas became a monk.
In the monastery where he was received, the brethren emulously
solemnized the cult of the Holy Virgin, and each one employed in her
service all the knowledge and all the ability which God had given him.
The prior, for his part, composed books which, according to the rules
of scholasticism, treated of the virtues of the Mother of God.
Friar Maurice with a learned hand copied these dissertations on leaves
of vellum.
Friar Alexander painted fine miniatures, wherein one could see the
Queen of Heaven seated upon the throne of Solomon, at the foot of
which four lions kept vigil. Around her haloed head fluttered seven
doves, which are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: gifts of fear,
piety, science, might, counsel, intelligence, and wisdom. She had for
companions six golden-haired Virgins: Humility, Prudence, Retirement,
Respect, Virginity, and Obedience. At her feet two small figures, nude
and quite white, were standing in a suppliant attitude. They were souls
who implored her all-powerful intercession for their salvation--and
certainly not in vain.
On another page Friar Alexander represented Eve gazing upon Mary, so
that thus one might see at the same time the sin and the redemption,
the woman humiliated and the Virgin exalted. Furthermore, in this book
one might admire the Well of Living Waters, the Fountain, the Lily,
the Moon, the Sun, and the closed Garden which is spoken of in the
Canticle, the Gate of Heaven and the Seat of God, and there were also
several images of the Virgin.
Friar Marbode was, similarly, one of the most affectionate children of
Mary. He carved images in stone without ceasing, so that his beard,
his eyebrows, and his hair were white with dust, and his eyes were
perpetually swollen and tearful; but he was full of strength and joy in
his advanced age, and, visibly, the Queen of Paradise protected the old
age of her child. Marbode represented her seated on a bishop’s throne,
her brow encircled by a nimbus whose orb was of pearls, and he took
pains that the folds of her robe should cover the feet of one of whom
the prophet said: “My beloved is like a closed garden.”
At times, also, he gave her the features of a child full of grace, and
she seemed to say: “Lord, thou art my Lord!”--“_Dixi de ventre matris
meæ: Deus meus es tu._” (Psalm 21, 11.)
They had also in the monastery several poets, who composed, in Latin,
both prose and hymns in honor of the most happy Virgin Mary, and there
was even found one Picardian who set forth the miracles of Our-Lady in
ordinary language and in rhymed verses.