"I pluck the flowers for thee;
They are thine, beloved, for they are Mine,
And thou art one with Me."
It was a place in which the flowers of the earth had never grown, and it
needed the washing which makes whiter than snow to fit the soul for that
garden of God upon the earth. Therefore the song which came to Dante
across the river was the ancient song of the soul that is washed from
sin: "Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, whose sins are
covered." Virgil never crossed the river.
However clouded may have been the faith of mediaeval Christendom, the need
of Christ was felt. The distinction between a Christian and a heathen was
acknowledged as one which told upon the eternal destiny of men. By means
of Christ the Saviour could the Christian man pass on, washed and
sanctified, into the land beyond the river. A "land beyond," was that
Paradise to men of the world of sense and of earthly knowledge, but
without the knowledge of God, and of Jesus Christ, whom He has sent. And
singing the song of the forgiven, whilst she made garlands of the
flowers, Matelda appeared to Dante, separated from him at first by the
river of forgetfulness. She drew near to him as one who dances. She spoke
to him of the nature of the mysterious wind that moved the branches of
the trees which grew in the land "given as the earnest of eternal
peace"--the earnest whilst here on earth of heavenly things, of the
flowers that grew from no earthly seed, and of the river that flows from
no earthly source, and of the other river which divides the earthly
Paradise from the heavenly, as the river Lethe divided it from all that
was before.
And we see that Matelda is to Dante the medium of supernatural
revelations, just as afterwards, Beatrice.
Matelda, then, in the earthly Paradise appears as the representative of
the insight into the heavenly joy whilst still on earth, Beatrice as the
beholding of it when the earthly life is past. And this knowledge of the
heavenly things was to be brought back by him who had seen them whilst
still in the body, as the palm-leaves upon the staff of the pilgrim who
had been within the boundary of the holy land.
And it was Matelda who drew Dante through the river into that land whilst
still upon the earth--the land where he should hear the singing, and know
the sweetness, and learn more in the Paradise here of the Paradise
hereafter.
It was the earnest of the inheritance which was given to him through
Matelda.
And truly this is the message and mission of the Beguine, not as
Matelda's, to Dante only, but to us also, who can receive the message
without the bewildering counter teaching of the corrupted Church. It is
true the message, more clearly given, is in the Bible we have known so
long; and it was through the blessed teaching of that Bible that Matilda
the Beguine learnt it. But it is well for us not only to read the
glorious promises of God, but to meet with those to whom they have been
fulfilled, the sharers of the like precious faith with us, who now
believe in Jesus. Now, from the holy women of Hellfde have the clouds
passed away which at times hid from them the brightness of the glory, but
the words of love spoken to their hearts by the mouth of their Beloved
remain to them as an everlasting possession.
And are not the same words still spoken day by day to those who have ears
to hear? And in the midst of this sorrowful world, is there not still a
blessed company who have entered the same Paradise, and learnt the same
songs, taught by the lips of Christ?
It will not render us less fit for the common earthly life, that we have
been there, in the garden where the Lord God walks, and His own are not
afraid. In truth, it is only those who have been there who have the
healing leaves for the sick and the suffering ones around them. It is
only those who see the Son, and believe on Him, who are thus brought back
to the garden of the Lord, to feed upon the fruit of the tree of life.
And these are they who are again sent forth as His messengers into the
world of man's exile.
"As My Father hath sent Me into the world, even so have I also sent them
into the world."
Thus the Lord spake of all who believe on His Name. The message sent long
ago by Matilda the Beguine has been heard again after the silence of
ages, and it is once more a call to the sinful, the sorrowful, and the
fearful, who have been living in ignorance of the marvellous love which
is unchanged, and which answers to the great need of our age, as to that
of the thirteenth century. May God the Holy Ghost open the hearts of many
to hear and to rejoice.
Matilda's Last Years.
Matilda was fifty-three years old when, in the year 1265, she took refuge
in the convent of Hellfde.
Gertrude von Hackeborn was not one who would refuse admission to a
persecuted "Friend of God." Gertrude had now been abbess fourteen years,
and was in the prime of her life and activity. Mechthild von Hackeborn,
"the maiden so marvellously lovable," as they said in the convent, was
then twenty-five. The little Gertrude, who was to be the brightest star
amongst the sisters of Hellfde, was only nine.
But during the twelve remaining years of the life of Matilda of Magdeburg
there was time enough for some good seed to be sown in the heart of
Gertrude, which should one day spring up and bear much fruit.
Soon after Matilda's entrance into the convent she had a severe and
painful illness. But she was tended with loving care, and found amongst
her sisters of Hellfde a happy and peaceful home. She in her turn was
regarded by them as an honoured teacher, and her influence made itself
quickly felt.
It was at Hellfde that she wrote the two remaining books, "rich," says
Preger, "in light and instruction." When she had finished the sixth book
she thought that her task was done. She therefore concluded it with a
word of farewell--"This book was begun in love, it shall also end in
love; for there is nought so wise, nor so holy, nor so beautiful, nor so
strong, nor so perfect as love."
But afterwards Matilda felt herself led to write "more of that which God
had shown her," although she had prayed that she might now lay down her
pen and cease from her labours.[10]
In the last years of her life she was obliged to write by dictation, her
eyes and hands having failed her. The following extracts from the last
two books will show an advance in the knowledge of Him she loved, and for
whom she laboured to the last.
The Labour of the Lord.
The Lord showed me in a parable that which He has ever done, and will
ever do, to fulfil to me the meaning thereof.
I saw a poor man rise up from the ground where he was sitting. He was
dressed like a workman, in common linen clothing, and he had a crowbar in
his hand, which he thrust under a heavy burden that was as large as the
earth.