CHAPTER V
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 thenegligent, moneyless monk, turned away at the inn, was provided for inhis moment of need, and also that she was the chosen purveyor; if so,by whom chosen? The young man had intended calling on the Patriarchfirst; who brought him to her? The breakfast was set for an invitedguest; what held him back, if not the power that led the stranger toher gate?
In saying now that one of the consequences of the religious passioncharacteristic of the day in the East--particularly inConstantinople--a passion so extreme as to induce the strongest mindsto believe God, and the Son, and even the Holy Mother discernible inthe most commonplace affairs--our hope is to save the Princess frommisjudgment. Really the most independent and fearless of spirits, ifnow and then she fell into the habit of translating the natural intothe supernatural, she is entitled to mercy, since few things are harderto escape than those of universal practice.
Through a doorway, chiselled top and jambs, she entered a spacious hallnude of furniture, though richly frescoed, and thence passed into aplain open, court coolly shaded, having in the centre a jet of waterwhich arose and fell into a bowl of alabaster. The water overflowingthe bowl was caught again in a circular basin which, besides theornamental carving on the edge and outside, furnished an ample pool forthe 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 theyarose, let their work drop on the spotless white marble at their feet,and received her in respectful silence. Signing them to resume theirlabor, she took a reserved chair by the fountain. The letter was in herhand, but a thought had the precedence.
Admitting she had been chosen to fulfil the saying quoted, was the callfor the once only? When the monk went up to the city, was her ministryto end? Would not that be a half-performance? How much farther shouldshe go? She felt a little pang of trouble, due to the uncertainty thatbeset her, but quieted it by an appeal to the letter. Crossing herself,and again kissing the signature, she began the reading, which, as thehand was familiar to her, and the composition in the most faultlessGreek 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 withthe Redeemer. While there is nothing so the equivalent of death assilence, there is no happiness so sweet as that which springs upon usunexpectedly. In the same sense the resurrection was the perfectcomplement of the crucifixion. More than all else, more than the sermonon the mount, more than His miracles, more than His unexampled life, itlifted our Lord above the repute of a mere philosopher like Socrates.We have tears for His much suffering; but we sing as Miriam sang whenwe think of His victory over the grave. I would not compare myself toHim; yet it pleases me believing these lines, so unexpected, will givethee a taste of the feeling the Marys had, when, with their spices inhand, they sought the sepulchre and found only the Angels there.
"Let me tell thee first of my disappearance from Constantinople. Irepented greatly my taking from the old convent by the Patriarch;partly because it separated me from thee at a time when thy mind wasopening to receive the truth and understand it. Yet the call had asound as if from God. I feared to disobey it.
"Then came the summons of the Emperor. He had heard of my life, and, asa counteraction of vice, he wanted its example in the palace. I heldback. But the Patriarch prevailed on me, and I went up and sufferedmyself to be installed Keeper of the Purple Ink. Then indeed I becamemiserable. To such as I, what is sitting near the throne? What is powerwhen not an instrument of mercy, justice and charity? What is easylife, except walking in danger of habits enervating to the hope ofsalvation? Oh, the miseries I witnessed! And how wretched the sight ofthem, knowing they were beyond my help! I saw moreover the wickednessof the court. Did I speak, who listened except to revile me? Went I tocelebrations in this or that church, I beheld only hypocrisy inscarlet. How often, knowing the sin-stains upon the hands of thecelebrants at the altar in Sta. Sophia, the house in holiness next tothe temple of Solomon--how often, seeing those hands raise the blood ofChrist in the cup before the altar, have I trembled, and looked for thedome above to let consuming vengeance in upon us, the innocent with theguilty!
"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 madewith Him, the ultimate Judge, in whose approval there is the peace thatpasseth understanding. I was like one pursued by a spirit making itspresence known to me in sobs and plaints, stinging as conscience stings.
"Consent to my departure was not to be expected; for great men disliketo have their favors slighted. It was not less clear that formalresignation of the official honor I was supposed to be enjoying wouldbe serviceable to the courtiers who were not so much my enemiespersonally as they were enemies of religion and contemners of all holyobservances. 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 caninhabit with infidels? Then Hagion Oras, the Holy Hill, occurred to me;the same argument applied against it as against return to the conventof Irene-I would be in reach of the Emperor's displeasure. One canstudy his own heart. Holding mine off, and looking at it alive withdesires holy and unholy, I detected in it a yearning for hermitage. Howbeautiful solitude appears! In what condition can one wishing to changehis nature for the better more certainly attain the end than withoutcompanionship except of God always present? The spirit of prayer is adelicate minister; where can we find purer nourishment for it than inthe silence which at noon is deep as at midnight?
"In this mood the story of the Russian St. Sergius reverted to me. Hewas born at Rostoff. Filled with pious impulses more than dissatisfiedwith the world, of which he knew nothing, with a brother, he left hisfather's house when yet a youth and betook himself to a great woods inthe region Radenego; there he dwelt among savage beasts and wild men,fasting and praying and dependent like Elijah of old. His life became anotoriety. Others drew to him. With his own hands he built a woodenchurch for his disciples, giving it the name of Troitza or Thrice HolyTrinity. Thither I wandered in thought. A call might be there for me,so weary of the egotism, envy, detraction, greed, grind and battle ofthe soulless artificiality called society.
"I left Blacherne in the night, and crossing the sea in the north--nowonder it is so terrible to the poor mariner who has to hunt his dailybread upon its treacherous waves--I indulged no wait until, in thestone church of the Holy Trinity, I knelt before the remains of therevered Russian hermit, and thanked God for deliverance and freedom.
"The Troitza was no longer the simple wooden church of its founder. Ifound it a collection of monasteries. The solitude of my dreams was tobe sought northward further. Some years before, a disciple ofSergius--Cyrill by name, since canonized--unterrified by winters whichdragged through three quarters of the year, wandered off to a secludedplace 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 itBielo-Osero. There I installed myself, won by the warmth of my welcome.
"Now when I departed from Blacherne, I took with me, besides theraiment I wore, two pieces of property; a copy of the Rule of theStudium Monastery, and a _panagia_ given me by the Patriarch--amedallion 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 notfar now when my need of it will be over; then I will send it to thee innotice that I am indeed at rest, and that in dying I wished to lendthee a preservative against ills of the soul and fear of death.
"The Rule was acceptable to the Brotherhood. They adopted it, an
d itsletter and spirit prevailing, the house came in time to be odorous forsanctity. Eventually, though against my will, they raised me theirHegumen. And so my story reaches its end. May it find thee enjoying thedelight of the soul's rest I have been enjoying without interruptionsince I began life anew in this retreat, where the days are days ofprayer, and the nights illuminated by visions of Paradise and Heaven.
"In the next place, I pray thou wilt take the young brother by whomthis will be delivered into friendly care. I myself raised him to adeaconship of our Monastery. His priestly name is Sergius. He wasscarcely out of boyhood when I came here; it was not long, however,before I discovered in him the qualities which drew me to thee duringthy prison life at the old convent of Irene--a receptive mind, and anative proneness to love God. I made his way easy. I became histeacher, as I had been thine; and as the years flew by he reminded memore and more of thee, not merely with respect to mental capacity, butpurity of soul and aspiration as well. Need I say how natural it wasfor me to love him? Had I not just come from loving thee?
"The brethren are good men, though unmannerly, and for the most partthe Word reaches them from some other's tongue. Filling the lad's mindwas like filling a lamp with oil. How precious the light it would oneday shed abroad! And how much darkness there was for it to dispel! Andin 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 timeSergius was under my instruction. Thou, alas! being a woman, wert likea strong-winged bird doomed at best to a narrow cage. The whole worldwas before him.
"Of the many notes I have been compelled to take of the wants ofreligion 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 besaid to have been touched with the fire that fell upon the faithful ofthe original twelve? Where among them is an Athanasius? Or aChrysostom? Or an Augustine? Slowly, yet apace with his growth, Ibecame ambitious for the young man. He showed quickness and astonishingcourage. No task appalled him. He mastered the tongues of thenationalities represented around him as if he were born to them. Hetook in memory the Gospels, the Psalms, and the prophetic books of theBible. He replies to me in Greek undistinguishable from mine. I beganto dream of him a preacher like St. Paul. I have heard him talking inthe stone chapel, when the sleet-ridden winds without had filled itwith numbing frost, and seen the Brotherhood rise from their knees, andshout, and sing, and wrestle like madmen. It is not merely words, andideas, and oratorical manner, but all of them, and more--when aroused,he has the faculty of pouring out his spirit, so that what he saystakes hold of a hearer, making him calm if in a passion, and excited ifin a calm. The willing listen to him from delight, the unwilling andopposite minded because he enchains them.
"The pearl seemed to me of great price. I tried to keep it free of thedust of the world. With such skill as I possess, I have worn its stainsand 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, thereis any abatement of my affection for Constantinople; on the contrary,absence has redoubled the love for it with which I was born. Is it notstill the capital of our holy religion? Occasionally a traveller comesthis way with news of the changes it has endured. Thus one came andreported the death of the Emperor John, and the succession ofConstantine; another told of justice finally done thy heroic father,and of thy prosperity; more lately a wandering monk, seeking solitudefor his soul's sake, joined our community, and from him I hear that theold controversy with the Latins has broken out anew, and more hotlythan ever; that the new Emperor is an _azymite_, and disposed to adhereto the compact of union of the churches east and west made with thePope of Rome by his predecessor, leaving heart-blisters burning asthose which divided the Jews. Indeed, I much fear the likeness mayprove absolute. It certainly will when the Turk appears before our holycity 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 coursesbegun here. It is true he who would move the world must go into theworld; at the same time I confess my own great desire to be keptinformed of the progress of the discussion between the churches hadmuch to do with my consent to his departure. He has instructions tothat effect, and will obey them. Therefore I pray thee receive himkindly for his own sake, for mine, and the promise of good in him tothe 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 mostdelightful, the most cherished of my life.
"The house under the Kameses hill at Prinkipo was a convent or refugefor women rather than men; yet I was ordered thither when thy fatherwas consigned to it after his victory over the Turks. I was thencomparatively young, but still recollect the day he passed the gategoing in with his family. Thenceforward, until the Patriarch took meaway, I was his confessor.
"Death is always shocking. I remember its visits to the convent while Iwas of its people; but when it came and took thy sisters we were doublygrieved. As if the ungrateful Emperor could not be sufficiently cruel,it seemed Heaven must needs help him. The cloud of those sad eventsoverhung the community a long time; at length there was a burst ofsunshine. One came to my cell and said, 'Come, rejoice with us--a babyis born in the house.' Thou wert the baby; and thy appearance was thefirst of the great gladnesses to which I have referred.
"And not less distinctly I live over the hour we met in the chapel tochristen thee. The Bishop was the chief celebrant; but not even thesplendor of his canonicals--the cope with the little bells sewn downthe sides and along the sleeves, the ompharium, the _panagia_, thecross, the crozier--were enough to draw my eyes from the dimpled pinkface half-hidden in the pillow of down on which they held thee upbefore the font. And now the Bishop dipped his fingers in the holywater--'By what name is this daughter to be known?' And I answered,'Irene.' Thy parents had been casting about for a name. 'Why not callher after the convent?' I asked. They accepted the suggestion; and whenI gave it out that great day--to the convent it was holiday--it seemeda door in my heart of which I was unknowing opened of itself, and tookthee into a love-lined chamber to be sweet lady at home forever. Suchwas the second of my greatest happinesses.
"And then afterwhile thy father gave thee over to me to be educated. Imade thy first alphabet, illuminating each letter with my own hand.Dost thou remember the earliest sentence I heard thee read? Or, if everthou dost think of it now, be reminded it was thy first lesson inwriting and thy first in religion--'The Lord is my shepherd; I shallnot want.' And thence what delight I found in helping thee each day alittle further on in knowledge until at length we came to where thoucouldst do independent thinking.
"It was in Sta. Sophia--in my memory not more than an occurrence ofyesterday. Thou and I had gone from the island up to the holy house,where we were spectators of a service at which the Emperor, asBasileus, and the Patriarch were celebrants. The gold on cope andompharium cast the space about the altar into a splendor rich assunshine. Then thou asked me, 'Did Christ and His Disciples worship ina house like this? And were they dressed as these are?' I was afraid ofthose around us, and told thee to use eye and ear, but the time forquestions and answers would be when we were back safely in the oldconvent.
"When we were there, thou didst renew the questions, and I did notwithhold the truth. I told thee of the lowliness and simple ways ofJesus--how He was clothed--how the out-doors was temple sufficient forHim. I told thee of His preaching to the multitude on the shore of theGalilean sea--I told of His praying in the garden of Gethsemane--I toldof the attempt to make a King of Him whether He would or not, and howHe escaped from the people--of how He set no store by money orproperty, titles, or worldly honors.
"Then thou didst ask, 'Who made worship so formal?' And again Ianswered truthfully, there was no Church until after the death of ourL
ord; that in course of two hundred years kings, governors, nobles andthe great of the earth were converted to the faith, and took it undertheir protection; that then, to conform it to their tastes and dignity,they borrowed altars from pagans, and recast the worship so sumptuouslyin purple and gold the Apostles would not have recognized it. Then, inbrief, I began telling thee of the Primitive Church of Christ, nowdisowned, forgotten or lost in the humanism of religious pride.
"Oh, the satisfaction and happiness in that teaching! At each lesson itseemed I was taking thee closer to the dear Christ from whom the worldis every year making new roads to get further away--the dear Christ insearch of whom I plunged into this solitude.
"How is it with thee now, my daughter? Dost thou still adhere to thePrimitive Church? Do not fear to speak thy mind to Sergius. He too isin the secret of our faith, believing it best to love our Lord fromwhat 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 whoholds 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 thepassage referring to the Primitive Church, her hands dropped into herlap, and she thought:
"The Father planted right well--better than he was aware, as he himselfwould 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 ashe taught it to me in the old convent, the Greeks and the Latins havealike adjudged me a heretic; that nothing saves me from the lions ofthe Cynegion, except my being a woman--a woman forever offending bygoing when and where I wist with my face bare, and therefore harmlessexcept to myself. If he knew this, would he send me his blessing? Helittle imagined--he who kept his opinion to himself because he couldsee no good possible from its proclamation--that I, the prison-bredgirl he so loved, and whom he helped make extreme in courage as inconviction, would one day forget my sex and condition, and protest withthe vehemence of a man against the religious madness into which theChristian world is being swept. Oh, that I were a man!"
Folding the letter hastily, she arose to return to her guest. There wasfixedness of purpose in her face.
"Oh, that I were a man!" she repeated, while passing the frescoed hallon the way out.
In the portico, with the white light of the marble whitening her wholeperson, and just as the monk, tall, strong, noble looking, despite thegrotesqueness 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 tomake me, Heaven has sent me. Here is a man! And he is certified as ofmy faith, and has the voice, the learning, the zeal and courage, thepassion of truth to challenge a hearing anywhere. Welcome Sergius! Inwant thou camest; in want thou didst find me. The Lord _is_ shepherdunto us both."
She went to him confidently, and offered her hand. Her manner wasirresistible; he had no choice but to yield to it.
"Thou art not a stranger, but Sergius, my brother. Father Hilarion hasexplained everything."
He kissed her hand, and replied:
"I was overbold, Princess; but I knew the Father would report mekindly; and I was hungry."
"It is my part now to see the affliction comes not back again. So muchhas the Shepherd already determined. But, speaking as thy sister,Sergius, thy garments appear strange. Doubtless they were well enoughin the Bielo-Osero, where the Rule of the Studium is law instead offashion; but here we must consult customs or be laughed at, which wouldbe fatal to the role I have in mind for thee." Then with a smile, sheadded, "Observe the dominion I have already assumed."
He answered with a contented laugh: whereupon she went on, but moregravely:
"We have the world to talk over; but Lysander will now take you to yourroom, and you will rest until about mid-afternoon, when my boat willcome to the landing to carry us to the city. The cowl you must exchangefor a hat and veil, the sandals for shoes, the coarse cassock for ablack gown; and, if we have time, I will go with you to the Patriarch."
Sergius followed Lysander submissively as a child.