A VOICE FROM THE CLOISTER
While the Princess Irene traversed the portico, she repeated the words,
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; and she could see how the
negligent, moneyless monk, turned away at the inn, was provided for in
his moment of need, and also that she was the chosen purveyor; if so,
by whom chosen? The young man had intended calling on the Patriarch
first; who brought him to her? The breakfast was set for an invited
guest; what held him back, if not the power that led the stranger to
her gate?
In saying now that one of the consequences of the religious passion
characteristic of the day in the East--particularly in
Constantinople--a passion so extreme as to induce the strongest minds
to believe God, and the Son, and even the Holy Mother discernible in
the most commonplace affairs--our hope is to save the Princess from
misjudgment. Really the most independent and fearless of spirits, if
now and then she fell into the habit of translating the natural into
the supernatural, she is entitled to mercy, since few things are harder
to escape than those of universal practice.
Through a doorway, chiselled top and jambs, she entered a spacious hall
nude of furniture, though richly frescoed, and thence passed into a
plain open, court coolly shaded, having in the centre a jet of water
which arose and fell into a bowl of alabaster. The water overflowing
the bowl was caught again in a circular basin which, besides the
ornamental carving on the edge and outside, furnished an ample pool for
the gold fish disporting in it.
In the court there were also a number of women, mostly young Greeks,
sewing, knitting, and embroidering vestments. Upon her entrance they
arose, let their work drop on the spotless white marble at their feet,
and received her in respectful silence. Signing them to resume their
labor, she took a reserved chair by the fountain. The letter was in her
hand, but a thought had the precedence.
Admitting she had been chosen to fulfil the saying quoted, was the call
for the once only? When the monk went up to the city, was her ministry
to end? Would not that be a half-performance? How much farther should
she go? She felt a little pang of trouble, due to the uncertainty that
beset her, but quieted it by an appeal to the letter. Crossing herself,
and again kissing the signature, she began the reading, which, as the
hand was familiar to her, and the composition in the most faultless
Greek of the period, was in nowise a perplexity.
"BIELO-OSERO, 3_d June_, 1452.
"From Hilarion, the Hegumen, to Irene, his well-beloved daughter.
"Thou hast thought of me this longtime as at rest forever--at rest with
the Redeemer. While there is nothing so the equivalent of death as
silence, there is no happiness so sweet as that which springs upon us
unexpectedly. In the same sense the resurrection was the perfect
complement of the crucifixion. More than all else, more than the sermon
on the mount, more than His miracles, more than His unexampled life, it
lifted our Lord above the repute of a mere philosopher like Socrates.
We have tears for His much suffering; but we sing as Miriam sang when
we think of His victory over the grave. I would not compare myself to
Him; yet it pleases me believing these lines, so unexpected, will give
thee a taste of the feeling the Marys had, when, with their spices in
hand, they sought the sepulchre and found only the Angels there.
"Let me tell thee first of my disappearance from Constantinople. I
repented greatly my taking from the old convent by the Patriarch;
partly because it separated me from thee at a time when thy mind was
opening to receive the truth and understand it. Yet the call had a
sound as if from God. I feared to disobey it.
"Then came the summons of the Emperor. He had heard of my life, and, as
a counteraction of vice, he wanted its example in the palace. I held
back. But the Patriarch prevailed on me, and I went up and suffered
myself to be installed Keeper of the Purple Ink. Then indeed I became
miserable. To such as I, what is sitting near the throne? What is power
when not an instrument of mercy, justice and charity? What is easy
life, except walking in danger of habits enervating to the hope of
salvation? Oh, the miseries I witnessed! And how wretched the sight of
them, knowing they were beyond my help! I saw moreover the wickedness
of the court. Did I speak, who listened except to revile me? Went I to
celebrations in this or that church, I beheld only hypocrisy in
scarlet. How often, knowing the sin-stains upon the hands of the
celebrants at the altar in Sta. Sophia, the house in holiness next to
the temple of Solomon--how often, seeing those hands raise the blood of
Christ in the cup before the altar, have I trembled, and looked for the
dome above to let consuming vengeance in upon us, the innocent with the
guilty!
"At last fear filled all my thoughts, and forbade sleep or any comfort.
I felt I must go, and quickly, or be lost for denial of covenants made
with Him, the ultimate Judge, in whose approval there is the peace that
passeth understanding. I was like one pursued by a spirit making its
presence known to me in sobs and plaints, stinging as conscience stings.
"Consent to my departure was not to be expected; for great men dislike
to have their favors slighted. It was not less clear that formal
resignation of the official honor I was supposed to be enjoying would
be serviceable to the courtiers who were not so much my enemies
personally as they were enemies of religion and contemners of all holy
observances. And there were so many of them! Alas, for the admission!
What then was left but flight?
"Whither? I thought first of Jerusalem; but who without abasement can
inhabit with infidels? Then Hagion Oras, the Holy Hill, occurred to me;
the same argument applied against it as against return to the convent
of Irene-I would be in reach of the Emperor's displeasure. One can
study his own heart. Holding mine off, and looking at it alive with
desires holy and unholy, I detected in it a yearning for hermitage. How
beautiful solitude appears! In what condition can one wishing to change
his nature for the better more certainly attain the end than without
companionship except of God always present? The spirit of prayer is a
delicate minister; where can we find purer nourishment for it than in
the silence which at noon is deep as at midnight?
"In this mood the story of the Russian St. Sergius reverted to me. He
was born at Rostoff. Filled with pious impulses more than dissatisfied
with the world, of which he knew nothing, with a brother, he left his
father's house when yet a youth and betook himself to a great woods in
the region Radenego; there he dwelt among savage beasts and wild men,
fasting and praying and dependent like Elijah of old. His life became a
notoriety. Others drew to him. With his own hands he built a wooden
church for his disciples, giving it the name of Troitza or Thrice Holy
Trinity. Thither I wandered in thought. A call might be there for me,
so weary of the egotism, envy, detraction, greed, grind and battle of
the soulless artificiality called society.
"I left Blacherne in the night, and crossing the sea in the north--no
wonder it is so terrible to the poor mariner who has to hunt his daily
bread upon its treacherous waves--I indulged no wait until, in the
stone church of the Holy Trinity, I knelt before the remains of the
revered Russian hermit, and thanked God for deliverance and freedom.
"The Troitza was no longer the simple wooden church of its founder. I
found it a collection of monasteries. The solitude of my dreams was to
be sought northward further. Some years before, a disciple of
Sergius--Cyrill by name, since canonized--unterrified by winters which
dragged through three quarters of the year, wandered off to a secluded
place on the shore of the White Lake, where he dwelt until, in old age,
a holy house was required to accommodate his following. He called it
Bielo-Osero. There I installed myself, won by the warmth of my welcome.
"Now when I departed from Blacherne, I took with me, besides the
raiment I wore, two pieces of property; a copy of the Rule of the
Studium Monastery, and a _panagia_ given me by the Patriarch--a
medallion portrait of the Blessed Mother of our Lord the Saviour,
framed in gold, and set in brilliants. I carry it hanging from my neck.
Even in sleep it is always lying just above my heart. The day is not
far now when my need of it will be over; then I will send it to thee in
notice that I am indeed at rest, and that in dying I wished to lend
thee a preservative against ills of the soul and fear of death.
"The Rule was acceptable to the Brotherhood. They adopted it, and its
letter and spirit prevailing, the house came in time to be odorous for
sanctity. Eventually, though against my will, they raised me their
Hegumen. And so my story reaches its end. May it find thee enjoying the
delight of the soul's rest I have been enjoying without interruption
since I began life anew in this retreat, where the days are days of
prayer, and the nights illuminated by visions of Paradise and Heaven.
"In the next place, I pray thou wilt take the young brother by whom
this will be delivered into friendly care. I myself raised him to a
deaconship of our Monastery. His priestly name is Sergius. He was
scarcely out of boyhood when I came here; it was not long, however,
before I discovered in him the qualities which drew me to thee during
thy prison life at the old convent of Irene--a receptive mind, and a
native proneness to love God. I made his way easy. I became his
teacher, as I had been thine; and as the years flew by he reminded me
more and more of thee, not merely with respect to mental capacity, but
purity of soul and aspiration as well. Need I say how natural it was
for me to love him? Had I not just come from loving thee?
"The brethren are good men, though unmannerly, and for the most part
the Word reaches them from some other's tongue. Filling the lad's mind
was like filling a lamp with oil. How precious the light it would one
day shed abroad! And how much darkness there was for it to dispel! And
in the darkness--Mercy, Mercy! How many are in danger of perishing!
"Never did I think myself so clearly a servant of God as in the time
Sergius was under my instruction. Thou, alas! being a woman, wert like
a strong-winged bird doomed at best to a narrow cage. The whole world
was before him.
"Of the many notes I have been compelled to take of the wants of
religion in this our age, none so amazes me as the lack of preachers.
We have priests and monks. Their name is Legion. Who of them can be
said to have been touched with the fire that fell upon the faithful of
the original twelve? Where among them is an Athanasius? Or a
Chrysostom? Or an Augustine? Slowly, yet apace with his growth, I
became ambitious for the young man. He showed quickness and astonishing
courage. No task appalled him. He mastered the tongues of the
nationalities represented around him as if he were born to them. He
took in memory the Gospels, the Psalms, and the prophetic books of the
Bible. He replies to me in Greek undistinguishable from mine. I began
to dream of him a preacher like St. Paul. I have heard him talking in
the stone chapel, when the sleet-ridden winds without had filled it
with numbing frost, and seen the Brotherhood rise from their knees, and
shout, and sing, and wrestle like madmen. It is not merely words, and
ideas, and oratorical manner, but all of them, and more--when aroused,
he has the faculty of pouring out his spirit, so that what he says
takes hold of a hearer, making him calm if in a passion, and excited if
in a calm. The willing listen to him from delight, the unwilling and
opposite minded because he enchains them.
"The pearl seemed to me of great price. I tried to keep it free of the
dust of the world. With such skill as I possess, I have worn its stains
and roughnesses away, and added to its lustre. Now it goes from me.
"You must not think because I fled to this corner of the earth, there
is any abatement of my affection for Constantinople; on the contrary,
absence has redoubled the love for it with which I was born. Is it not
still the capital of our holy religion? Occasionally a traveller comes
this way with news of the changes it has endured. Thus one came and
reported the death of the Emperor John, and the succession of
Constantine; another told of justice finally done thy heroic father,
and of thy prosperity; more lately a wandering monk, seeking solitude
for his soul's sake, joined our community, and from him I hear that the
old controversy with the Latins has broken out anew, and more hotly
than ever; that the new Emperor is an _azymite_, and disposed to adhere
to the compact of union of the churches east and west made with the
Pope of Rome by his predecessor, leaving heart-blisters burning as
those which divided the Jews. Indeed, I much fear the likeness may
prove absolute. It certainly will when the Turk appears before our holy
city as Titus before Jerusalem.
"This latest intelligence induced me at last to yield to Sergius'
entreaties to go down to Constantinople, and finish there the courses
begun here. It is true he who would move the world must go into the
world; at the same time I confess my own great desire to be kept
informed of the progress of the discussion between the churches had
much to do with my consent to his departure. He has instructions to
that effect, and will obey them. Therefore I pray thee receive him
kindly for his own sake, for mine, and the promise of good in him to
the cause of Jesus, our beloved Master.
"In conclusion, allow me, daughter--for such thou wert to thy father,
to thy mother, and to me--allow me to recur to circumstances which,
after calm review, I pronounce the most interesting, the most
delightful, the most cherished of my life.
"The house under the Kameses hill at Prinkipo was a convent or refuge
for women rather than men; yet I was ordered thither when thy father
was consigned to it after his victory over the Turks. I was then
comparatively young, but still recollect the day he passed the gate
going in with his family. Thenceforward, until the Patriarch took me
away, I was his confessor.
"Death is always shocking. I remember its visits to the convent while I
was of its people; but when it came and took thy sisters we were doubly
grieved. As if the ungrateful Emperor could not be sufficiently cruel,
it seemed Heaven must needs help him. The cloud of those sad events
overhung the community a long time; at length there was a burst of
sunshine. One came to my cell and said, 'Come, rejoice with us--a baby
is born in the house.' Thou wert the baby; and thy appearance was the
first of the great gladnesses to which I have referred.
"And not less distinctly I live over the hour we met in the chapel to
christen thee. The Bishop was the chief celebrant; but not even the
splendor of his canonicals--the cope with the little bells sewn down
the sides and along the sleeves, the ompharium, the _panagia_, the
cross, the crozier--were enough to draw my eyes from the dimpled pink
face half-hidden in the pillow of down on which they held thee up
before the font. And now the Bishop dipped his fingers in the holy
water--'By what name is this daughter to be known?' And I answered,
'Irene.' Thy parents had been casting about for a name. 'Why not call
her after the convent?' I asked. They accepted the suggestion; and when
I gave it out that great day--to the convent it was holiday--it seemed
a door in my heart of which I was unknowing opened of itself, and took
thee into a love-lined chamber to be sweet lady at home forever. Such
was the second of my greatest happinesses.
"And then afterwhile thy father gave thee over to me to be educated. I
made thy first alphabet, illuminating each letter with my own hand.
Dost thou remember the earliest sentence I heard thee read? Or, if ever
thou dost think of it now, be reminded it was thy first lesson in
writing and thy first in religion--'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall
not want.' And thence what delight I found in helping thee each day a
little further on in knowledge until at length we came to where thou
couldst do independent thinking.
"It was in Sta. Sophia--in my memory not more than an occurrence of
yesterday. Thou and I had gone from the island up to the holy house,
where we were spectators of a service at which the Emperor, as
Basileus, and the Patriarch were celebrants. The gold on cope and
ompharium cast the space about the altar into a splendor rich as
sunshine. Then thou asked me, 'Did Christ and His Disciples worship in
a house like this? And were they dressed as these are?' I was afraid of
those around us, and told thee to use eye and ear, but the time for
questions and answers would be when we were back safely in the old
convent.
"When we were there, thou didst renew the questions, and I did not
withhold the truth. I told thee of the lowliness and simple ways of
Jesus--how He was clothed--how the out-doors was temple sufficient for
Him. I told thee of His preaching to the multitude on the shore of the
Galilean sea--I told of His praying in the garden of Gethsemane--I told
of the attempt to make a King of Him whether He would or not, and how
He escaped from the people--of how He set no store by money or
property, titles, or worldly honors.
"Then thou didst ask, 'Who made worship so formal?' And again I
answered truthfully, there was no Church until after the death of our
Lord; that in course of two hundred years kings, governors, nobles and
the great of the earth were converted to the faith, and took it under
their protection; that then, to conform it to their tastes and dignity,
they borrowed altars from pagans, and recast the worship so sumptuously
in purple and gold the Apostles would not have recognized it. Then, in
brief, I began telling thee of the Primitive Church of Christ, now
disowned, forgotten or lost in the humanism of religious pride.
"Oh, the satisfaction and happiness in that teaching! At each lesson it
seemed I was taking thee closer to the dear Christ from whom the world
is every year making new roads to get further away--the dear Christ in
search of whom I plunged into this solitude.
"How is it with thee now, my daughter? Dost thou still adhere to the
Primitive Church? Do not fear to speak thy mind to Sergius. He too is
in the secret of our faith, believing it best to love our Lord from
what our Lord hath Himself said.
"Now I bring this letter to a close. Let me have reply by Sergius, who,
when he has seen Constantinople, will come back to me, unless He who
holds every man's future in keeping discovers for him a special use.
"Do not forget me in thy prayers.
"Blessings on thee! HILARION."
The Princess read the letter a second time. When she came to the
passage referring to the Primitive Church, her hands dropped into her
lap, and she thought:
"The Father planted right well--better than he was aware, as he himself
would say did he know my standing now."
A glow which might have been variously taken for half-serious,
half-mocking defiance shone in her eyes as the thought ran on:
"Ay, dear man! Did he know that for asserting the Primitive Church as
he taught it to me in the old convent, the Greeks and the Latins have
alike adjudged me a heretic; that nothing saves me from the lions of
the Cynegion, except my being a woman--a woman forever offending by
going when and where I wist with my face bare, and therefore harmless
except to myself. If he knew this, would he send me his blessing? He
little imagined--he who kept his opinion to himself because he could
see no good possible from its proclamation--that I, the prison-bred
girl he so loved, and whom he helped make extreme in courage as in
conviction, would one day forget my sex and condition, and protest with
the vehemence of a man against the religious madness into which the
Christian world is being swept. Oh, that I were a man!"
Folding the letter hastily, she arose to return to her guest. There was
fixedness of purpose in her face.
"Oh, that I were a man!" she repeated, while passing the frescoed hall
on the way out.
In the portico, with the white light of the marble whitening her whole
person, and just as the monk, tall, strong, noble looking, despite the
grotesqueness of his attire, was rising from the table, she stopped,
and clasped her hands.
"I have been heard!" she thought, trembling. "That which it refused to
make me, Heaven has sent me. Here is a man! And he is certified as of
my faith, and has the voice, the learning, the zeal and courage, the
passion of truth to challenge a hearing anywhere. Welcome Sergius! In
want thou camest; in want thou didst find me. The Lord _is_ shepherd
unto us both."
She went to him confidently, and offered her hand. Her manner was
irresistible; he had no choice but to yield to it.
"Thou art not a stranger, but Sergius, my brother. Father Hilarion has
explained everything."
He kissed her hand, and replied:
"I was overbold, Princess; but I knew the Father would report me
kindly; and I was hungry."
"It is my part now to see the affliction comes not back again. So much
has the Shepherd already determined. But, speaking as thy sister,
Sergius, thy garments appear strange. Doubtless they were well enough
in the Bielo-Osero, where the Rule of the Studium is law instead of
fashion; but here we must consult customs or be laughed at, which would
be fatal to the role I have in mind for thee." Then with a smile, she
added, "Observe the dominion I have already assumed."
He answered with a contented laugh: whereupon she went on, but more
gravely:
"We have the world to talk over; but Lysander will now take you to your
room, and you will rest until about mid-afternoon, when my boat will
come to the landing to carry us to the city. The cowl you must exchange
for a hat and veil, the sandals for shoes, the coarse cassock for a
black gown; and, if we have time, I will go with you to the Patriarch."
Sergius followed Lysander submissively as a child.