CHAPTER VI. HYPNEROTOMACHIA
At first I seemed to make good progress in my quest after grace, and acertain solatium of peace descended upon me, beneficent as the dew of asummer night upon the parched and thirsty earth. But anon this changedand I would catch the thoughts that should have been bent upon piousmeditation glancing backward with regretful longings at that life out ofwhich I had departed.
I would start up in a pious rage and cast out such thoughts by morestrenuous prayer and still more strenuous fasting. But as my body grewaccustomed to the discomforts to which it was subjected, my mind assumeda rebellious freedom that clogged the work of purification upon whichI strove to engage it. My stomach out of its very emptiness conjuredup evil visions to torment me in the night, and with these I vainlywrestled until I remembered the measures which Fra Gervasio told methat he had taken in like case. I had then the happy inspiration to haverecourse to the hair-shirt, which hitherto I had dreaded.
It would be towards the end of October, as the days were growing colder,that I first put on that armour against the shafts of Satan. It galledme horribly and fretted my tender flesh at almost every movement; but soat least, at the expense of the body, I won back to some peace of mind,and the flesh, being quelled and subdued, no longer interposed its evilhumours to the purity I desired for my meditations.
For upwards of a month, then, the mild torture of the goat's-hair cilicedid the office I required of it. But towards December, my skin havinggrown tough and callous from the perpetual irritation, and inured tothe fretting of the sharp hair, my mind once more began to wandermutinously. To check it again I put off the cilice, and with it allother undergarments, retaining no more clothing than just the roughbrown monkish habit. Thus I exposed myself to the rigours of theweather, for it had grown very cold in those heights where I dwelt, andthe snows were creeping nearer adown the mountain-side.
I had seen the green of the valley turn to gold and then to flamingbrown. I had seen the fire perish out of those autumnal tints, and withthe falling of the leaves, a slow, grey, bald decrepitude covering theworld. And to this had now succeeded chill wintry gales that howled andwhistled through the logs of my wretched hut, whilst the western windcoming down over the frozen zone above cut into me like a knife's edge.
And famished as I was I felt this coldness the more, and daily I grewleaner until there was little left of my erstwhile lusty vigour, and Iwas reduced to a parcel of bones held together in a bag of skin, so thatit almost seemed that I must rattle as I walked.
I suffered, and yet I was glad to suffer, and took a joy in my pain,thanking God for the grace of permitting me to endure it, since thegreater the discomforts of my body, the more numbed became the pain ofmy mind, the more removed from me were the lures of longing with whichSatan still did battle for my soul. In pain itself I seemed to findthe nepenthes that others seek from pain; in suffering was my Letheandraught that brought the only oblivion that I craved.
I think that in those months my reason wandered a little under all thisstrain; and I think to-day that the long ecstasies into which I fellwere largely the result of a feverishness that burned in me as aconsequence of a chill that I had taken.
I would spend long hours upon my knees in prayer and meditation. Andremembering how others in such case as mine had known the great boon andblessing of heavenly visions, I prayed and hoped for some such signof grace, confident in its power to sustain me thereafter against allpossible temptation.
And then, one night, as the year was touching its end, it seemed to methat my prayer was answered. I do not think that my vision was a dream;leastways, I do not think that I was asleep when it visited me. I was onmy knees at the time, beside my bed of wattles, and it was very lateat night. Suddenly the far end of my hut grew palely lucent, as if aphosphorescent vapour were rising from the ground; it waved and rolledas it ascended in billows of incandescence, and then out of the heartof it there gradually grew a figure all in white over which there was acloak of deepest blue all flecked with golden stars, and in the foldedhands a sheaf of silver lilies.
I knew no fear. My pulses throbbed and my heart beat ponderously butrapturously as I watched the vision growing more and more distinct untilI could make out the pale face of ineffable sweetness and the veiledeyes.
It was the Blessed Madonna, as Messer Pordenone had painted her in theChurch of Santa Chiara at Piacenza; the dress, the lilies, the sweetpale visage, all were known to me, even the billowing cloud upon whichone little naked foot was resting.
I cried out in longing and in rapture, and I held out my arms to thatsweet vision. But even as I did so its aspect gradually changed. Underthe upper part of the blue mantle, which formed a veil, was spread amass of ruddy, gleaming hair; the snowy pallor of the face was warmedto the tint of ivory, and the lips deepened to scarlet and writhed in avoluptuous smile; the dark eyes glowed languidly; the lilies faded away,and the pale hands were held out to me.
"Giuliana!" I cried, and my pure and piously joyous ecstasy was changedupon the instant to fierce, carnal longings.
"Giuliana!" I held out my arms, and slowly she floated towards me, overthe rough earthen floor of my cell.
A frenzy of craving seized me. I was impatient to lock my arms once moreabout that fair sleek body. I sought to rise, to go to meet her slowapproach, to lessen by a second this agony of waiting. But my limbs werepowerless. I was as if cast in lead, whilst more and more slowly sheapproached me, so languorously mocking.
And then revulsion took me, suddenly and without any cause or warning.I put my hands to my face to shut out a vision whose true significance Irealized as in a flash.
"Retro me, Sathanas!" I thundered. "Jesus! Maria!"
I rose at last numbed and stiff. I looked again. The vision haddeparted. I was alone in my cell, and the rain was falling steadilyoutside. I groaned despairingly. Then I swayed, reeled sideways and lostall consciousness.
When I awoke it was broad day, and the pale wintry sun shone silveryfrom a winter sky. I was very weak and very cold, and when I attemptedto rise all things swam round me, and the floor of my cell appeared toheave like the deck of a ship upon a rolling sea.
For days thereafter I was as a man entranced, alternately frozen withcold and burning with fever; and but that a shepherd who had turnedaside to ask the hermit's blessing discovered me in that condition, andremained, out of his charity, for some three days to tend me, it is morethan likely I should have died.
He nourished me with the milk of goats, a luxury upon which my strengthgrew swiftly, and even after he had quitted my hut he still came dailyfor a week to visit me, and daily he insisted that I should consume themilk he brought me, overruling my protests that my need being overpastthere was no longer the necessity to pamper me.
Thereafter I knew a season of peace.
It was, I then reasoned, as if the Devil having tried me with amasterstroke of temptation, and having suffered defeat, had abandonedthe contest. Yet I was careful not to harbour that thought unduly, norglory in my power, lest such presumption should lead to worse. I thankedHeaven for the strength it had lent me, and implored a continuance ofits protection for a vessel so weak.
And now the hill-side and valley began to put on the raiment of a newyear. February, like a benignant nymph, tripped down by meadow andstream, and touched the slumbering earth with gentler breezes. Andsoon, where she had passed, the crocus reared its yellow head, anemones,scarlet, blue and purple, tossed from her lap, sang the glories ofspring in their tender harmonies of hue, coy violet and sweet-smellingnardosmia waved their incense on her altars, and the hellebore sproutedby the streams.
Then as birch and beech and oak and chestnut put forth a garb of tenderpallid green, March advanced and Easter came on apace.
But the approach of Easter filled me with a staggering dread. It was inPassion Week that the miracle of the image that I guarded was wont tomanifest itself. What if through my unworthiness it should fail? Thefear appalled me, and I redoubled my prayers. There was nee
d; for springwhich touched the earth so benignly had not passed me by. And at momentscertain longings for the world would stir in me again, and again wouldcome those agonizing thoughts of Giuliana which I had conceived were forever laid to rest, so that I sought refuge once more in the hair-shirt;and when this had once more lost its efficacy, I took long whip-likebranches of tender eglantine to fashion a scourge with which Iflagellated my naked body so that the thorns tore my flesh and set myrebellious blood to flow.
One evening, at last, as I sat outside my hut, gazing over the rollingemerald uplands, I had my reward. I almost fainted when first I realizedit in the extremity of my joy and thankfulness. Very faintly, just as Ihad heard it that night when first I came to the hermitage, I heard nowthe mystic, bell-like music that had guided my footsteps thither. Neversince that night had the sound of it reached me, though often I hadlistened for it.
It came now wafted down to me, it seemed, upon the evening breeze, asound of angelic chimes infinitely ravishing to my senses, and stirringmy heart to such an ecstasy of faith and happiness as I had never yetknown since my coming thither.
It was a sign--a sign of pardon, a sign of grace. It could be naughtelse. I fell upon my knees and rendered my deep and joyous thanks.
And in all the week that followed that unearthly silver music was withme, infinitely soothing and solacing. I could wander afield, yet itnever left me, unless I chanced to go so near the tumbling waters ofthe Bagnanza that their thunder drowned that other blessed sound. I tookcourage and confidence. Passion Week drew nigh; but it no longer had anyterrors for me. I was adjudged worthy of the guardianship of the shrine.Yet I prayed, and made St. Sebastian the special object of my devotions,that he should not fail me.
April came, as I learnt of the stray visitors who, of their charity,brought me the alms of bread, and the second day of it was the first ofHoly Week.