THE HISTORY OF RICHARD RAYNAL SOLITARY

by

ROBERT HUGH BENSON

PATRI. REVERENDISSIMO*. *****. ******. *. *. *. ETCVIDAM. NESCIENTIHVNC. LIBRVMD. 

CONTENTS:

 Introduction

 How Sir John visited Master Hermit: and found him in contemplation

 Of the Word from God that came to Master Hermit: and of his setting out

 How Master Richard fared: how he heard Mass in Saint Pancras' Church: how he came to Westminster: and of his colloquy with the Ankret

 How Master Richard saw the King in Westminster Hall: and of the Mass at Saint Edward's Altar

 How Master Richard cried out in Westminster Hall: and of his coming to a Privy Parlour

 Of Master Richard's speaking with the King's Grace: and how he was taken for it

 Of Master Richard's second speaking with his Grace: and of his detention

 Of the Parson's Disquisition on the whole matter

 How Master Richard took his meat: and of Master Lieutenant's whipping of him

 Of the Second Temptation of Master Richard: and how he overcame it

 Of the Dark Night of the Soul

 How Sir John went again to the cell: and of what he saw there

 How one came to Master Priest: how Master Priest came to the King's Bedchamber: and of what he heard of the name of Jesus

 Of Sir John's Meditations in Westminster Palace

 How Master Richard went to God

 Of his Burying

Introduction

In the winter of 1903-4 I had occasion to pass several months inRome. 

Among other Religious Houses, lately bought back from the Government bytheir proper owners, was one (whose Order, for selfish reasons, I prefernot to specify), situated in the maze of narrow streets between thePiazza Navona and the Piazza Colonna; this, however, may be said ofthe Order, that it is one which, although little known in Italy, hadseveral houses in England up to the reign of Henry VIII. Like so manyother Orders at that time, its members moved first to France and then toItaly, where it has survived in penurious dignity ever since. 

The Religious were able to take with them at the time of exodus, threeand a half centuries ago, a part of the small library that existed atthe English mother-house, and some few of these MSS. Have survived tothe present day; many others, however, have certainly perished; for inthe list of books that I was looking over there one day in March, 1904, I observed several titles, of which, the priest-librarian told me, thecorresponding volumes have disappeared. To some half-dozen of thesetitles, however, there was appended a star, and on enquiring the meaningof this symbol, I was informed that it denoted that a translation hadbeen made into French and preserved in the library. 

One of these titles especially attracted my attention. It ran asfollows: VITA ET OBITUS DNI RICARDI RAYNAL HEREMITAE. 

Upon my asking to see this and its companions, I was conducted to adusty shelf in the little upstairs book-room, and was informed that Imight do as I pleased there for two hours, until the _Ave Maria_ rang, and the doors would be locked. 

When the librarian had gone with many nods and smiles, I took downthese half dozen books and carried them to the table by the window, anduntil _Ave Maria_ rang I turned their pages. 

The volume whose title had especially attracted my attention was aquarto MS. , written, I should suppose from the caligraphy, about the endof the sixteenth century; a later hand had appended a summary to eachchapter with an appropriate quotation from a psalm. But the book was ina shocking condition, without binding, and contained no more than afragment. The last page was numbered "341, " and the first page+ "129. "One hundred and twenty-eight pages, therefore, were certainly lost atthe beginning, and I know not how many at the end; but what was left wassufficiently engrossing to hold me standing by the window, until thewrinkled face of the priest looked in again to inform me that unless Iwished to sleep in the library, I must be gone at once. 

On the following morning by nine o'clock I was there again; and, afteran interview with the Superior, went up again with the keys in my ownpossession, a quantity of foolscap and a fountain-pen in my hand, andsandwiches in my pocket, to the dusty little room beneath the roof. 

I repeated this series of actions, with the exception of the interview, every day for a fortnight, and when I returned to England in April Itook with me a complete re-translation into English of the "_Vita etobitus Dni Ricardi Raynal Heremitae_, " and it is this re-translationthat is now given to the public, with the correction of many words andthe addition of notes, carried out during the last eighteen months. 

 * * * * *

It is necessary to give some account of the book itself, but I will nottrouble my readers with an exhaustive survey of the reasons that haveled me to my opinions on the subject: it is enough to say that most ofthem are to be found in the text. 

It is the story of the life of one of that large body of Englishhermits who flourished from about the beginning of the fourteenthcentury to the middle of the sixteenth; and was written, apparently forthe sake of the villagers, by his parish-priest, Sir John Chaldfield, who seems to have been an amiable, devout, and wordy man, who longoutlived his spiritual son. Of all the early part of Master RichardRaynal's life we are entirely ignorant, except of the facts that hisparents died in his youth, and that he himself was educated atCambridge. No doubt his early history was recorded in the one hundredand twenty-nine pages that are missing at the beginning. It is annoyingalso that the last pages are gone, for thereby we have lost what wouldprobably have been a very full and exhaustive list of the funeralfurniture of the sixteenth century, as well as an account of theprocession into the country and the ceremonies observed at the burial. We might have heard, too, with some exactness (for Sir John resembles ajournalist in his love of detail) about the way in which his friend'sfame began to spread, and the pilgrims to journey to his shrine. Itwould have been of interest to trace the first stages in theunauthorised cult of one as yet uncanonised. What is left of the book isthe record of only the last week in Master Richard's life and of hisdeath under peculiar circumstances at Westminster in the bed-chamberof the King. 

It is impossible to know for certain who was this king, but I aminclined to believe that it was Henry VI. , the founder of Eton Collegeand King's College, Cambridge, whose life ended in such tragedy towardsthe close of the fifteenth century. His Queen is not mentioned frombeginning to end, and for this and other reasons I am inclined toparticularise still more, and conjecture that the period of which thebook treats must be prior to the year 1445 A. D. , when the King marriedat the age of twenty-three. 

Supposing that these conjectures are right, the cardinal spoken of inthe book would be Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, and cousinof the King. 

All this, however, must be doubtful, since the translator of theoriginal English or Latin appears to have omitted with scrupulous carethe names of all personages occurring in the narrative, with one or twounimportant exceptions. We do not even know in what part of the countrySir John Chaldfield held his living, but it appears to have been withinthirty or forty miles of London. We must excuse the foreign scribe, however; probably the English names were unintelligible and barbarous tohis perceptions; and appeared unimportant, too, compared to the interestof the mystical and spiritual experiences recorded in the book. 

Of these experiences it is difficult to write judiciously in thispractical age. 

Master Richard Raynal appears to have been a very curious young man, ofgreat personal beauty, extreme simplicity, and a certain magneticattractiveness. He believed himself, further, to be in direct andconstant communication with supernatural things, and would be set downnow as a religious fanatic, deeply tinged with superstition. His parson, too, in these days, would be thought little better, but at the time inwhich they lived both would probably be regarded with considerableveneration. We hear, in fact, that a chapel was finally erected overMaster Raynal's body, and that pilgrimages were made there; andprobably, if the rest of the work had been preserved to us, we shouldhave found a record of miracles wrought at his shrine. All traces, however, of that shrine have now disappeared--most likely under thestern action of Henry VIII. --and Richard's name is unknown tohagiology, in spite of his parson's confidence as regarded his futurebeatification. 

It is, however, interesting to notice that in Master Raynal'sreligion, as in Richard Rolle's, hermit of Hampole, there appears tohave been some of that inchoate Quietism which was apt to tinge thefaith of a few of the English solitaries. He was accustomed to attendmass devoutly and to receive the sacraments, and on his death-bed wasspeeded into the next world, at his own desire, by all the observancesprescribed by the Catholic Church. His attitude, too, towards thepriesthood, is somewhat uncharacteristic of his fellows, who were aptto boast with apparent complacency that they were neither "monk, friar, nor clerk. " In other matters he is a good type of that strange race ofsolitaries who swarmed in England at that time, who were under no vows, but served God as it pleased them, not hesitating to go among theirfellows from time to time if they thought themselves called to it, whowere looked upon with veneration or contempt, according to the opinionformed of them by their observers, but who, at any rate, lived a simpleand wholesome life, and were to some extent witnesses to the existenceof a supernatural Power at whose bidding (so they believed) they weresummoned to celibacy, seclusion, labour, and prayer. 

It is curious also to trace through Sir John's fanciful eyes theparallels between the sufferings of Master Richard and those ofChrist. Of course, no irreverence is intended. I should imagine that, if Sir John were put on his defence, he would say that the life ofevery true Christian must approximate to the life of Christ so far ashis spirit is identified with the Divine Spirit, and that this isoccasionally fulfilled even in minute details. 

It is unnecessary to add much more in this introduction--(for the storywill tell its own tale)--beyond saying that the re-translation of theFrench fragment into English has been to me a source of considerablepleasure. I have done my best to render it into the English of itsproper period, including even its alliterations, while avoiding needlessarchaisms and above all arbitrary spelling. But no doubt I am guilty ofmany solecisms. I have attempted also to elucidate the text by a numberof footnotes, in which I have explained whatever seemed to call for it, and have appended translations to the numerous Latin quotations in whichSir John indulges after the manner of his time. I must apologise forthese footnotes--(such are always tiresome)--but I could think of noother way by which the text could be made clear. They can always beomitted without much loss by the reader who has no taste for them. 

Sir John's style is a little difficult sometimes, especially when hetreats in detail of his friend's mystical experience, but he has acertain power of word-painting (unusual at his date) in matters both ofnature and of grace, and it is only when he has been unduly trite orobscure that I have ventured, with a good deal of regret, to omit hisobservations. All such omissions, however, as well as peculiardifficulties of statement or allusion, have been dealt with infoot-notes. 

With regard to the function of the book, at any rate since its firsttranslation into French, it is probably safe to conjecture that it mayhave been used at one time for reading aloud in the refectory. I am ledto make this guess from observing its division into chapters, and thequasi-texts appended to each. These texts are of all sorts, though allare taken from the Book of Psalms; but their application to the matterthat follows is sometimes fanciful, frequently mystical, andoccasionally trite. 

If the book receives any sympathy from English readers--(an eventualityabout which I have my doubts)--I shall hope, at some future date, toedit others of the MSS. Still reposing in the little room under the roofbetween the _Piazza Navona_ and the _Piazza Colonna_ in Rome, to which Ihave been generously promised free access. 

I must express my gratitude to the Superior of the Order of ---- (towhose genius, coupled with that of another, I dedicate this book), forgiving me permission to edit his MS. ; to Dom Robert Maple, O. S. B. , formuch useful information and help in regard to the English mystics; andto Mme. Germain who has verified references, interpreted difficulties, and assisted me by her encouragement. 

ROBERT BENSON. 

Cambridge, Feast of SS. Peter and Paul, 1905. 

How Sir John visited Master Hermit: and found him in contemplation

_Protexit me in abscondito tabernaculi sui. _

He hath protected me in the secret place of His tabernacle. --Ps. Xxvi. 5. 

I

[The Ms. Begins abruptly at the top of the page. ]

. .. It was at vespers on the fourth day afterwards, being CorpusChristi, that saint Giles, as I suppose, moved me to visit MasterRichard. So I put on my cap again, and took my furred gown, for Ithought it would be cold before I came home; and set out through thewood. I was greatly encouraged by the beauty of the light as I wentdown; the sun shone through the hazels on my right, and the roof ofleaves was a fair green over my head; and to right and left lay a carpetof flowers as blue as the Flanders' glass above the altar. I had learntfrom Master Richard, though he was thirty years my younger, manybeautiful lessons, and one of them that God's Majesty speaks to us bythe works of His almighty hands. So when I saw the green light and thegold and the blue, and the little flies that made merry in the way, Itook courage. 

At the lower end of the wood, as you know, the path falls down steeplytowards the stream, and when it has left the wood there are meadows toright and left, that were bright with yellow flowers at this time. Infront the stream runs across the road under hazels, and where the chapelis still a-building over his body, on the left side, with its backagainst the wood stood his little house. 

I will tell you of all this, as I saw it then; for the pilgrims havetrampled it all about now, and the stream is all befouled and the banksbroken, and the trees cut down by the masons that came to make thesecond chapel where Master Richard was wont to bathe himself, againstthe fiend's temptations at first, and afterwards for cleanness' sake, too--(for I never heard of a hermit as cleanly as was this young man, soon, and in spite of his washings, by the prayers of our Lady and saintGiles, to be declared among the blessed servants of God. )

The meadow was a fair circle of grass; with trees on every side but onthis where the gate stood. It sloped to the stream that ran shallow overthe stones, and down across it from the cell to the pool lay the pathtrampled hard by Master Richard's feet; for he had lived there fouryears at this time since his coming from Cambridge. Besides this paththere was another that circled the meadow, and it was on this that hewalked with God. I have seen him there sometimes from the gate, with hishands clasped, fingers to fingers, and his eyes open but seeing nothing;and if it had not been for the sin in my soul (on which God have pity!)I might have seen, too, the heavenly company that often went with himand of which he told me. 

Before the hut lay a long garden-bed, in which the holy youth grew beansin their season, and other vegetables at other times; for it was onthese, with nuts from the hazelwood, and grasses of which I know not thenames (though he has told me of them many times), with water from thestream, that he sustained his life. 

On either side of the hut stood a great may-tree; it was on account ofthese that he had built his little house here, for he knew theproperties and divine significations of such things. 

The house itself was of wattles, plastered with mud from the brook, andthatched with straw. There was a door of wood that he leaned against theopening on this side when he prayed, but not when he slept, and a littlesquare window high up upon the other side that looked into the greenwood. It is of that same door that saint Giles' new altar was made, forthe house fell down after his going, and the wind blew about the mud andthe sticks, and the pilgrims have now carried all away. I took the doormyself, when I came back and had seen him go through the heavenly doorto our Lord. 

The house within was a circle, three strides across, with a domed rooflike a bee-hive as high as a man at the sides and half as high again inthe centre. On the left lay his straw for a bed, and above it on thewall the little square of linen that he took afterwards with him toLondon, worked with the five precious wounds of our Saviour. On theright hand side was a wooden stool where he sat sometimes to pray and onthe wall against it a little press that held some bottles within, and inanother shelf some holy relics that are now in the church, and inanother his six books; and above, upon the top, a little cross with ourLord upon it, very rude; for he said that the eyes of the soul shouldnot be hindered by the eyes of the body, and that our Lord showedHimself often to him more clearly and truly than a craftsman could makeHim. Above the window was a little figure of the Mother of God, setthere, he told me, above the sight of the green wood, because she wasthe mother of all living, and had restored what Eve had spoiled. 

I cannot tell you, my children, of the peace of this place. The littlehouse, and indeed the whole circle of the meadow set about with trees, was always to me as a mansion in paradise. There were no sounds here butthe song of the birds and the running of the water and the wind in thetrees; and no sight of any other world but this, except in winter whenthe hill over against the hut showed itself through the branches notthree hundred paces away. On all other sides the woods rose to the sky. I think that the beasts knew the peace of the place. I have seen often astag unafraid watching Master Richard as he dug or walked on his path;the robins would follow him, and the little furry creatures sit roundhim with ears on end. And he told me, too, that never since he had cometo the place had blood fallen on the ground except his own when hescourged himself. The hunting-weasel never came here, though the conieswere abundant; the stags never fought here though there was a fairground for a battlefield. It was a peace that passed understanding, andwhat that peace is the apostle tells us. 

Here I came then on Corpus Christi evening, thirty years ago, as the sunwas near its setting behind the gate through which I came, and my shadowlay half-across the meadow before me. 

 * * * * *

It appeared to me that somewhat was amiss, but I knew not what it was: Iwas a little afraid. Master Richard was not to be seen, but his door waswide, so I thought he would not be praying. As I came up the path I sawsomething that astonished me. There was a circle of beasts about thehut, little conies that sat in the sunlight and shadow, without feeding, though it was the time for it; and as I came nearer I saw other beasts. There was a wild cat crouched in the shadow of the hazels moving histail from side to side; a stag with his two does stood beneath abeech-tree, and a boar looked over the bank against which stood the hut. 

They did not move as I came up and looked in at the door. 

This is what I saw within. 

The holy youth was seated on his stool with his hands gripping the sidesand his eyes open, and he was looking towards the image of our Saviouron the right-hand side. 

You have seen his holy and uncorrupt body, but in life he was differentto that. He was not above twenty years old at this time, and of a beautythat drew men's eyes to him. [This is the exact phrase used of RichardRolle, hermit of Hampole. ] His hair was as you know it; a straight, tawny, nut-brown head of hair that fell to his shoulders; and he had thecleanest line of face that ever I have seen. 

His hair came low upon his straight forehead; his nose was straight, with fine nostrils; he had a little upper lip on which grew no hair, afull lip beneath very short, and a round cleft chin; his eyebrows weredark and arched; his whole face smooth and thin, and of an extraordinaryclean paleness; he had a curved throat turned to a pale brown by thesun, though the colour of his body, I have heard it said, was as whiteas milk. He was dressed always in a white kirtle beneath, and a brownsleeveless frock over it of the colour of his hair, that came to hisankles, and was girt with a leather band. He went barefoot, but carrieda great hat on his shoulders when he walked. He moved slowly at suchtimes, and bore himself upright. His hands were fine and slender, andwere burned brown like his face and his throat. 

I tell you that I have never seen such a wonderful beauty in mortal man;and his soul was yet more lovely. It is no wonder that God's Majestydelighted in him, and that the saints came to walk with him. He waslike neither man nor woman. He had the grey eyes of a woman, the mouthand chin of a man, the hands of a matron, and the figure of a strongvirgin. I was always a little man, as you know, and when I walked withhim, as I did sometimes, the top of my cap came just beneath his ear. 

Master Richard, as I have said, was seated now on his stool, with hisknees together, and his hands gripping the sides of his seat. His chinwas a little thrust out, and he was as still as a stock. This I knew, was the manner in which sometimes he entered into strong contemplation;and I knew, too, that he would neither hear me nor see me till he moved. So I watched him a moment or two, and I grew yet more afraid as Iwatched; for this is what I saw:

Down from his temples across his cheeks ran little drops of sweat on tohis brown frock, and that though it was a cool evening, and his spadewas hung on its peg beneath the window. (It was the spade that you haveseen in the church with a cross-handle polished by his holy hands. )

I looked for a while, and I grew yet more afraid. It seemed to me thatthere was somewhat in the cell that I could not see. I looked up at thewindow but there was nothing there but the still green hazel leaves; Ilooked at his bed, at the smooth mud walls and floor, at the domed roof, and, through the hole in the centre, where the smoke escaped when hemade a fire, I could see leaves again and the evening sky. Yet the placewas full of something; there was something of energy or conflict, I knewnot which: some person was striving there. 

Then I was suddenly so much afraid that I dared not stay, and I wentback again along the path, and walked at the lower end of the meadowbeside the stream. 

Of the Word from God that came to Master Hermit: and of his setting out

_Vias tuas, Domine, demonstra mihi: et semitas tuas educe me. _

Shew, O Lord, Thy ways to me: and teach me Thy paths. --_Ps. Xxiv. 4. _

II

There are, as you have learned from me, and I from Master RichardRaynal, a trinity of natures in man. There is that by which he has to dowith the things of matter--his five wits; that by which he has to dowith God Almighty and the saints--his immortal soul and her powers; and, for the last, that by which he has to do with men--his lowerunderstanding, his mind, his power of speech, and the like. Each naturehas its proper end, though each ministers to the other. With his earshe hears God's Word, with his immortal soul he perceives God Almighty inwhat is seen with the eyes; with his understanding he comprehends thenature of flowers and the proper time to sow or reap. This trinity maybe devoted to God or the fiend. .. . It is not true, as some have said, that it is only with the soul that God is perceived or served, and thatthe other two are unclean. We may serve God by digging with the hands, by talking friendly with our neighbour, and by the highest of all whichis contemplation. 

This is what Master Richard did, following the Victorines but notaltogether. He strove to serve God alike in all, and I count his life, therefore, the highest that I have ever known. He said that to dig, totalk over the gate with a neighbour, and to contemplate the DivineEssence, were all alike to serve God. He counted none wasted, for GodAlmighty had made the trinity of natures in His own image, andintended, therefore, a proper occupation for each. To refuse to dig orto talk was not to honour contemplation; and this he said, though hesaid besides that some could not do this through reason of finding thatone distracted the other. I count, however, that his own life was thehardest, for he did all three, and did not suffer one to distractanother. 

The most difficulty of such a life is to know when to follow one andwhen the other, when to dig, when to speak, and when to contemplate; andhe would tell me that for this there are two guides that God Almightysends--the one is that of exterior circumstance, and the other that ofan interior knowledge, and he would follow that which cried the louder. If he desired to contemplate and a neighbour came to talk with him; ifhe perceived the neighbour clearly he would give over his contemplation;if not he would continue to contemplate. Again, if the imagination of aspade came mightily before him, or if he remembered that the sun wouldsoon be up and his beans not watered, again he would give over hiscontemplation and dig or carry water. 

For this there is needed one thing, and that a firm and quietsimplicity. He would do nothing till his mind was quiet. The friend ofGod must be as a little child, as the gospel tells us, and when the soulis quiet there is no difficulty in knowing what must be done. The firstbusiness then of a solitary's life is to preserve this quiet against thefiend's assaults and disquiet. And, I think, of all that I have everknown, Master Richard's soul was the most quiet, and most like to thesoul of a little child. 

As I walked now beside the stream I knew very well that it was for thisthat he was striving in contemplation: the sweat that ran down hischeeks was the sign of the fiend's assault, and I knew that I had donewell to come. I had followed, as Master Richard himself had taught me, that loud interior voice. 

So I strove to become quiet myself; I signed myself with the cross, andcried softly upon saint Giles to pray for me to God's Majesty that Imight know what to say and do. Then I placed myself, as I had learned, at the divine feet; I looked at the yellow flowers and the clear runningwater and the open sky, and presently I was aware that all was silencewithin and without me. So I waited and walked softly to and fro, untilMaster Richard came to the door of his hut. 

He stood there for a full minute, I suppose, with the sun on his faceand his brown frock and broad white sleeves, before he saw me; for I wasin the shadow of the hazels. Then he waved his hands a little, and cameslowly and very upright down the path in the middle, and as I wenttowards him I saw the beasts had gone. They were content, I suppose, nowthat their master was come out. 

He came down the path, very pale and grave, and knelt as usual for myblessing, which I gave; then he kissed my skirt as he always did with apriest, and stood up. 

Now I will try to tell you all that he said as he said it. 

 * * * * *

We went together without speaking, to the hut, and he brought out thestool into the sunlight and made me sit upon it, and sat himself uponthe ground beneath me, with his hands clasped about his knee, and hisbare feet drawn beneath him. I could see no more of him but his brownhair and his throat, and his strong shoulders bent forward. Then hebegan to speak. His voice was always grave and steady. 

"I am glad you are come, Sir John; I have something to ask you. I do notknow what to do. I will tell you all. "

I said nothing, for I knew what he wished; so I looked down across themeadow at the hazels and the pigeons that were coming down to the wood, and desired saint Giles to tell me what to say. 

"It is this, " he said. "Four days ago I was in contemplation, downthere by the stream. The sensible warmth of which I have told you was inmy heart; as it has been for over one year now, ever since I passed fromthe way of illumination. I think that it had never been so clear andstrong. It was our Lord who was with me, and I perceived Him within asHe always shows Himself to me; I cannot tell you what He is like, butthere were roses on His hands and feet, and above His heart and aboutHis head. I have not often perceived Him so clearly. His Mother, I knew, was a little distance away, behind me, and I wondered why it was so, andthe divine John was with her. Then I understood that He was lonely, butno more than that: I did not know why. I said what I could, and then Ilistened, but He said nothing to me, and then, after a while, Iunderstood that it was under another aspect that He was there; thatthere was one in his place, crowned with gold instead of roses, and Icould not understand it. I was astonished and troubled by that, and thewarmth was not so strong at my heart. 

"Then He was gone; and I saw the stream again beneath me, and the leavesoverhead, and there was sweat on my forehead. 

"When I stood up there was a knowledge in my heart--I do not knowwhether from our Lord or the fiend--that I must leave this place, and goto one whom I thought must be the King with some message; but I do notknow the message. "

 * * * * *

My children, it was a dreadful thing to hear that. He had never spokenso since his coming four years before, except once when he was in thepurgative way, and the fiend came to him under aspect of a woman. But hehad been in agony then, and he was quiet now. Before I could speak hespoke again. 

"I said that I could not go; that God Almighty had brought me here andcaused me to build my house and given me the meadow and the water andthe beasts as my friends--that I was neither monk nor friar nor priestto be sent hither and thither--that I could not go. I cried on Him tohelp me and shew me His will; and then I went to dinner. 

"Since that time, Sir John, the warmth has left me. I see the flowers, but there is nothing behind them; and the sunlight, but there is noheavenly colour in it. My mind is disquiet; I cannot rest norcontemplate as I should. I have been up the stairs that I have told youof a thousand times; I have set myself apart from the world, which isthe first step, until all things visible have gone; then I have setmyself apart from my body and my understanding so that I was consciousof neither hands nor heart nor head, nor of aught but my naked soul;then I have left that, which is the third step; but the gate is alwaysshut, and our Lord will not speak or answer. Tell me what I must do, SirJohn. Is it true that this is from our Lord, and that I must go to seethe King?"

 * * * * *

I was sick at heart when I heard that, and I strove to silence what mysoul told me must be my answer. 

"It has persevered ever since, my son Richard, " I said?

He bowed his head. 

"There is no savour in anything to me until I go, " he answered. "Thismorning as I looked from over the wall upon the sacrament, my eyes wereblinded: I saw nothing but the species of bread. I was forced to restupon the assent of my faith. "

Again I attempted to silence what my soul told me. It was the very powerthat Master Richard had taught me to use that was turning against what Idesired. I had not known until then how much I loved this quiet holy ladwith grave eyes--not until I thought I should lose him. 

"There is no sin, " I said, "that has darkened your eyes?"

I saw him smile sideways at that, and he turned his head a little. 

"My sins are neither blacker nor whiter than they have always been, " hesaid; "you know them all, my father. "

"And you wish to leave us?" I cried. 

He unclasped his hands and laid one on my knee. I was terrified at itspurity, but his face was turned away, and he said nothing. 

I had never heard the wood at that time of the evening so silent as itwas then. It was the time when, as the lax monks say, the birds saymattins (but the strict observants call it compline), but there wasneither mattins nor compline then in the green wood. It was all in agreat hush, and the shadows from the trees fifty paces away had crept upand were at our feet. 

Then he spoke again. 

"Tell me what your soul tells you, " he said. 

I put my hand on his brown head; I could not speak. Then he rose atonce, and stood smiling and looking on me, and the sunlight made asplendour in his hair, as it were his heavenly crown. 

"Thank you, my father, " he said, though I had not spoken one word. 

Then he turned and went into the hut, and left me to look upon the greenwoods through my tears, and to listen to a mavis that had begun to singin one of the may-trees. I knew he was gone to make ready. 

 * * * * *

The sun had quite gone down before he came out again, and the shadowswere like a veil over the land; only the yellow flowers burned hot likecandle flames before me. 

He had four books in his hand and a little bottle, his hat on hisshoulders, and the wooden sandals on his feet that he had worn to walkin four years before when he came to us. His little linen picture of thefive wounds was fastened over his breast with thorns. He carried acrosshis arm the second white-sleeved kirtle that he had, and his burse wason his girdle. He held out two of the books to me. 

"These are for you, my father, " he said; "the book of hours and the_Regula Heremitarum_ I shall take with me, and all the rest of themobills and the two other books I shall leave at our Lord's disposal, except the bottle of Quintessence. "

I took the two books and looked at them. 

There was Master Hoveden's _Philomela_, and a little book he had made onQuinte Essence. 

"But you will need them!" I cried. 

"I carry _Philomela_ in my heart, " he said, "and as for the QuinteEssence I shall have enough if I need it, and here is the bottle thatholds that that has been made of blood. --The fifth--being of gold andsilver I have not. _Argentum et aurum non est mihi_. " ["Silver and goldI have none. " (Acts iii. 6. )]

(That was the little bottle that I have told you of before. It wasdistilled of his own blood, according to the method of HermesTrismegistus. )

"If I do not return, " he said, "I bequeath all to you; and I wish sixmasses to be said; the first to be sung, of _Requiem_; the second of thefive wounds; the third of the assumption; the fourth of all martyrs witha special memory of saint Christopher; the fifth of all confessors witha special memory of saint Anthony, hermit, and saint Giles, abbot; thesixth of all virgins with a special memory of saint Agnes. "

You understand, my children, that he knew what would come to him, andthat he had foreseen all; he spoke as simply as one who was going toanother village only, looking away from me upon the ground. (I was gladof that. )

I begged of him to bid good-bye to his meadow. 

"I will not;" he said, "I bear it with me wherever I go. "

Then he took me by the arm, carrying his shod staff in his other hand, and led me to the gate, for I was so blinded that I stumbled as I went. 

Once only did I speak as we passed upwards through the dark wood. 

"And what will be your message, " I asked, "when you come to the King?"

"Our Lord will tell it me when I come thither, " he said. 

We went through the village that lay dark and fast asleep. I wished himto go to some of the houses, and bid the folks good-bye, but he wouldnot. 

"I bear them, too, wherever I go, " he said. 

After we had adored God Almighty in the church, [That is, God present inthe Blessed Sacrament. ] and I had shriven the young man and blessed him, we went out and stood under the lychgate where his body afterwardsrested. 

It was a clear night of stars and as silent as was once heaven for thespace of half-an-hour. The philomels had given over their singing near amonth before, and it was not the season for stags to bray; and those, as you know, are the principal sounds that we hear at night. 

We stood a long time listening to the silence. I knew well what was inmy heart, and I knew presently what was in his. He was thinking on hissoul. 

He turned to me after a while, and I could see the clear pallour of hisface and the line of his lips and eyes all set in his heavy hair. 

"Do you know the tale of the Persian king, Sir John?"

I told him No; he had many of such tales. I do not know where he hadread them. 

"There was once a king who had the open eyes, and he looked into heavenand hell. He saw there two friends whom he had known in the flesh; theone was a hermit, and the other another king. The hermit was in hell, and the king in heaven. When he asked the reason of this, one told himthat the hermit was in hell because of his consorting with the king, andthe king in heaven because of his consorting with the hermit. "

I understood him, but I said nothing. 

"Pray for me then, Sir John, " said Master Richard. 

Then we kissed one another, and he was gone without another word alongthe white road. 

How Master Richard fared: how he heard Mass in Saint Pancras' Church:how he came to Westminster: and of his colloquy with the Ankret

_Abyssus abyssum invocat: in voce cataractarum tuarum_. 

Deep calleth on deep: at the noise of Thy flood-gates. --_Ps. Xli. 8. _

III

The tale of his journey and of his coming to London he told me when Isaw him again at the end. He spoke to me for over an hour, and I thinkthat I have remembered near every word, but I cannot write down thelaughter and the tears that were in his voice as he told me. 

As he went along the road beneath the trees and the stars, carrying hiskirtle, with his books and other things in his burse, and his hat on hisshoulders, he was both happy and sorry. 

There are two kinds of happiness for mortal men: there is that which iscarnal and imperfect and hangs on circumstances and the health of thebody and such like things; and there is that which is spiritual andperfect, which hangs on nothing else than the doing of the will of GodAlmighty so far as it is known, so that a man may have both at once, oreither without the other. Master Richard had the one without the other. 

At first he could not bear to think of what he had left behind him--hislittle quiet house and meadow and the stream where he washed, and thebeasts and men that loved him; and he threw himself upon the otherhappiness for strength. By the time that he had arrived at the ford hewas so much penetrated by this better joy that he was able to lookback, and tell himself, as he had told me, that he bore with him alwayswherever he went all that he had left behind him. It was ever hisdoctrine that we lose nothing of what is good and sweet in the past, andthat we suck out of all things a kind of essence that abides with usalways, and that every soul that loves is a treasure-house of all thatshe has ever loved. It is only the souls that do not love that go emptyin this world and _in saecula saeculorum_. He thought much of this onhis road, and by the time that he had come so far that he thought itbest to sleep by the wayside, the warmth had come back that had left himfor four days. 

He went aside then out of the road to find a hazel thicket, and by thespecial guidance of God found one with a may-tree beside it. There hegroped together the dead leaves, took off his burse and his hat and hisgirdle and his brown habit, and laid the habit upon the leaves, unpinning the five wounds, and fastening them again upon his whitekirtle. Then he knelt down by the may-tree, and said his prayers, beginning as he always did:

_"Totiens glorior, quotiens nominis tui, JESU, recordor. "_ ["I glory, sooften as I remember Thy Name, JESU. "]

Then he repeated the Name an hundred times, and his heart grew so hotand the sweetness in his month so piercing that he could scarce go on. Then he committed himself to the tuition of the glorious Mother ofChrist, and to that of saint Christopher, saint Anthony, hermit, andsaint Agnes, virgin, and lastly to that of saint Giles and saint Denis, remembering me. Then he said compline with _paternoster, avemaria_, and_credo_, signed himself with the cross, and lay down on hiskirtle--_specialissimus_, darling of God--and drew the second kirtleover his body for fear of the dews and the night vapours; and so went tosleep, striving not to think of where he had slept last night. (He toldme all this, as I have told you. )

He awoke at dawn in an extraordinary sweetness within and without, andas he walked in his white habit beneath the solemn beech-trees, his soulopened wide to salute the light that rose little by little, pouring downon him through the green roof. The air was like clear water, he said, running over stories, brightening without concealing their colours; andhe drank it like wine. He had that morning in his contemplation whatcame to him very seldom, and I do not know if I can describe it, but hesaid it was the sense that the air he breathed was the essence of God, that ran shivering through his veins, and dropped like sweet myrrh fromhis fingers. There was the savour of it on his lips, piercing anddelicate, and in his nostrils. 

He set out a little later after he had washed, following the road, andcame to a timber chapel standing by itself. I do not know which it is, but I think it must have been the church of saint Pancras that wasburned down six years after. The door was locked, but he sat to wait, and after an hour came a priest in his gown to say mass. The priestlooked at him, but answered nothing to his good-day (there be so many ofthese idle solitaries about that feign to serve God, but their heart isin the belly). I do not blame the priest; it may be he had been deceivedoften before. 

There was a fellow who answered the mass, and Master Richard knelt byhimself at the end of the church. 

When mass was over the two others went out without a word, leaving himthere. He said _ad sextam_ then, and was setting out once more when thepriest came back with a jug of ale and a piece of meat and bread whichhe offered him, telling him he would have given him nothing if he hadbegged. 

Master Richard refused the meat and the ale, and took the bread. 

The priest asked him his business, and he said he was for London to seethe King. 

The priest asked him whether he would speak with the King, and he toldhim Yes if our Lord willed. 

"And what have you to say to him?" asked the priest. 

"I do not know, " said Master Richard. 

The priest looked at him, and said something about a pair of fools, butMaster Richard did not understand him then, for he had not heard yet thetale that the King was mad or near it. 

So he kissed the priest's skirt, and asked his blessing; then he wentdown the steps to the little holy well (which makes me think it to besaint Pancras's church) and drank a little water after signing himselfwith it and commending himself to the saint, and went on his way. Thesun was now high and hot, but he told me that when he looked back at theturn of the path the priest was at the gate in the full sun staringafter him. 

Of his journey that day there is not much to relate. He went byunfrequented ways, walking sedately as his manner was, with devotion inhis heart. An hour before noon a woman gave him dinner as she came backfrom taking it to her husband who burned charcoal in the forest, andasked him a kiss for payment when he had done his meal, sitting on atree, with her standing by and looking upon him all the while. But hetold her that he was a solitary, and that he had kissed no woman but hismother, who had died ten years before, so she appeared content, thoughshe still looked upon him. Then as he stood up, thanking her for thedinner, she caught his hand and kissed that, and he reproved her gentlyand went on his way again. 

For many miles after that it was the same; he saw no man, but only thebeasts now and then, walking beneath the high branches in the sylvantwilight, over the dead leaves and the fern, and seeing now and again, as he expressly told me, for it seemed he had some lesson from it, thehot light that danced in the open spaces to right and left. 

He saw one strange sight, which I should not have believed if he hadnot told me, and that was a ring of bulls in a clearing that tossedsomething this way and that, one to the other: he drove them off, andfound that it was a hare, not yet dead, but it died in his hands. Hetold me that this verse came to his mind as he laid the poor beast downunder a tree; _Circumdederunt me vituli multi: tauri pingues obsederuntme_, ["Many calves have surrounded me: fat bulls have besieged me"(Ps. Xxi. 13)] and there is no wonder in that, for it is from a psalm ofthe passion, and it was what befell him afterwards, as you shall hear. 

Soon after that he bathed himself in a pool, for he was hot withwalking, and desired to be at his ease when he saw folk again; and hedipped his sandals, too, to cool them. 

Then he went in his white kirtle a little, until his hair was dried, andwhen the heat of the day began to turn he was aware that he was comingnear to a village, for there was a herd of pigs that looked on himwithout fear. 

The village was a very little one, but it stood upon a road, and herehe had his first sight of the town-folks, for as he rested by a gate acompany of fellows went by from the wars. I suppose that they werelately come from France (maybe from Arfleet [that is, Harfleur]), forhe told me that there were pavissors among them--the men with the greatshields called pavices which are used only in sieges from the woodencastles that they push against the walls of the town. They were stainedwith travel, too, and were very silent and peevish. There were allsorts there besides the pavissors--the men-at-arms in their plateand mail-shirts, the archers in their body-armour and aprons, andthe glaivemen [Glaives were a kind of pike, but with long carvedcutting-blades. Bills had straight blades. ] with the rest. He said thatone company that rode in front had the sign of the Ragged Staff upontheir breasts, by which he learned afterwards that they were my lordWarwick's men. [The Ragged Staff was the emblem of Lord Warwick. ]

One cried out to him to know how far was it to London, but he shook hishead and said that he was a stranger. The fellow jeered and named himbumpkin, but the rest said nothing, and looked on him as they passed, and two at the end doffed their caps. They were about two hundred, andone rode in front with a banner borne before him; but it was a still hotday, and Master Richard could not see the device, for the folds hungabout the staff. 

He saw other folks after that here and there, although he avoided thevillages where he could; but he got no supper, and an hour before sunsethe came to the ferry over against Westminster. The wherries were drawnup on the beach, and he came down to these past Lambeth House, wonderinghow he was to get over. 

He besought one man for the love of Jesu to take him over, but he wouldnot; and another for the love of Mary, and a third for the sake of theRood of Bromholm, [a famous relic of the True Cross. ] and a fourth forthe love of saint Anthony. And at that they laughed at him, coming roundhim and looking on him curiously, and crying that they would have all thesaints out of him before _Avemaria_, and asking to know his business. When he told them in his simplicity that he was to see the King, theylaughed the more, and said that the King was gone to be a monk at saintEdmond's, and that he had best look for him there. 

Then he asked yet another, a great fellow with a hairy face and chest, to take him over for the love of saint Denis and saint Giles, and thefellow swore a great oath, elbowed his way out of the press that wereall staring and laughing, and bade him follow. 

So he got into the boat and sat there while the man carried down theoars, and all the rest crowded to look and question and mock. He told methat he supposed at the time that all the folks looked at him for thatthey were not used to see solitaries, but I do not think it was that. Itell you that one who looked a little on Master Richard would look long, and that one who looked long must either laugh or weep, so surprisingwas his beauty and his simplicity. 

 * * * * *

When they were half-way over the fellow told him which was the abbeychurch, and Master Richard said that he knew it, for that he had seen itfour years before when he came under our Lord's hand from Cambridge, andthat he would ask shelter from the monks. 

"And there is an ankret [an ankret was a solitary, confined to one cellwith episcopal ceremonies. ], is there not?" asked Master Richard. 

The man told him Yes, looking upon him curiously, and he told him, too, where was his cell. Then he put him on shore without a word, save askingfor his prayers. 

I cannot tell you how Master Richard came to the ankret's cell, for Iwas only at Westminster once when Master Richard went to his reward, but he found his way there, marvelling at the filth of the ways, andlooked in through the little window, drawing himself up to it by thestrength of his arms. 

It was all dark within, he told me, and a stench as of a kennel came upfrom the darkness. 

He called out to the holy man, holding his nostrils with one hand, andwith the other gripping the bars and sitting sideways on the sill of thewindow. He got no answer at first, and cried again. 

Then there came an answer. 

There rose out of the darkness a face hung all over with hair and nearas black as the hair, with red-rimmed eyes that oozed salt rheum. Theholy man asked him what he wished, and why did he hold his nostrils. 

"I wish to speak with your reverence, " said Master Richard, "of highthings. I hold my nostrils for that I cannot abide a stench. "

The red eyes winked at that. 

"I find no stench, " said the holy man. 

"For that you are the origin of its propagation, " said Master Richard, "and dwell in the midst of it. "

It was foolish, I think, of the sweet lad to speak like that, but he wasan-angered that a man should live so. But the holy solitary was notan-angered. 

"And in God's Majesty is the origin of my propagation, " he said. "_Ergo_. "

Master Richard could think of no seemly answer to that, and he desired, too, to speak of high matters; so he let it alone, and told the holy manhis business, and where he lived. 

"Tell me, my father, " he said, "what is the message that I bear to theKing. It may be that our Lord has revealed it to you: He has not yetrevealed it to me. "

"Are you willing to go dumb before the King?"

"I am willing if God will, " said Master Richard. 

"Are you willing that the King should be deaf and dumb to yourmessage?"

"If God will, " said Master Richard again. 

"What is that which you bear on your breast?"

"It is the five wounds, my father. "

"Tell me of your life. Are you yet in the way of perfection?"

Then the two solitaries talked together a long while; I could notunderstand all that Master Richard told to me; and I think there wasmuch that he did not tell me, but it was of matters that I am scarceworthy to name, of open visions and desolations, and the darkness of thefourth Word of our Saviour on the rood; and again of scents and soundsand melodies such as those of which Master Rolle has written; and aboveall of charity and its degrees, for without charity all the rest iscounted as dung. 

_Avemaria_ rang at sunset, but they did not hear it, and at the end theholy man within crept nearer and raised himself. 

"I must see your face, brother, " he said. "It may be then that I shallknow the message that your soul bears to the King. "

Master Richard came out of his heavenly swoon then, and saw the faceclose to his own, and what he said of it to me I dare not tell you, buthe bitterly reproached himself that he had ever doubted whether thiswere a man of God or no. 

As he turned his own face this way and that, that the failing lightmight fall upon it, he said that beneath him in the little street therewas a crowd assembled, all silent and watching the heavenly colloquy. 

When he looked again, questioning, at the holy old man, he saw that theother's face was puckered with thought and that his lips pouted throughthe long-falling hair. Then it disappeared, and a grunting voice cameout of the dark, but the sound of it was as if the old man wept. 

"I do not know the message, brother. Our Lord has not shewed it to me, but He has shewed me this--that soon you will not need to wear Hiswounds. That I have to say. _Oremus pro invicem. _" ["Let us pray for oneanother. "]

 * * * * *

The crowd pressed close upon Master Richard as he came down from thewindow, and, going in the midst of them in silence, he came to saintPeter's gate where the black monks dwell, and was admitted by theporter. 

How Master Richard saw the King in Westminster Hall: and of the Mass atSaint Edward's Altar

_Revelabit condensa: et in templo ejus omnes dicent gloriam. _

He will discover the thick woods: and in His temple all shall speak Hisglory. --_Ps. Xxviii. 9. _

IV

Master Richard did not tell me a great deal of his welcome in themonastery: I think that he was hardly treated and flouted, for theprofessed monks like not solitaries except those that be established inreputation; they call them self-willed and lawless and pretending to asanctity that is none of theirs. Such as be under obedience think thatvirtue the highest of all and essential to the way of perfection. And Ithink, perhaps, they were encouraged in this by what had been said ofthemselves by our holy lord ten years before, for he was ever a favourerof monks. [This may have been Eugenius IV. , called _Gloriosus_. If so, it would fix the date of Richard at about 1444. ] But Master Richard didnot blame them, so I will not, but I know that he was given no cell tobe private in, but was sent to mix with the other guests in the commonguest-house. I know not what happened there, but I think there was anuproar; there was a wound upon his head, the first wound that hereceived in the house of his friends, that I saw on him a little later, and he told me he had had it on his first coming to London. It was sucha wound as a flung bone or billet of wood might make. He had now the_caput vulneratum_, as well as the _cor vulneratum_ [wounded head . .. Wounded heart. ] of the true lover of Jesus Christ. 

 * * * * *

He desired, after his simplicity, on the following morning, to speakwith my lord abbot, but that could not be, and he only saw my lord atterce before mass, afar off sitting in his stall, a great prelate withhis chain, and with one who bore a silver wand to go before him and dohim service. 

He prayed long in the church and at the shrine, and heard four orfive masses, and saw the new grave of the Queen in the midst of thelady-chapel [This may have been Queen Katharine, whose body wasafterwards moved. ], and did his devotions, hoping that our Lord wouldshow him what to speak to the King, and then went to dinner, andafter dinner set out to Westminster Hall, where he was told that theKing could be seen that day. 

He passed through the little streets that lay very nastily, no betterthan great gutters with all the filth of the houses poured out there, but he said that the folks there were yet more surprising, for thesewere they who had taken sanctuary here, and were dwelling round themonastery with their wives and children. There were all sorts there, slayers of men and deer, thieves, strikers of the clergy _suadentediabolo_ ["at the devil's persuasion"--a technical phrase], false-coiners, harlots, and rioters; all under the defence of Religion, and not suffered to go out but on peril of being taken. He had a littlecompany following him by the time that he came to the gate, some mockingand some silent, and all looking on him as he went. 

When he came to the door of the hall the men that stood there would notlet him in until he entreated them. They told him that the King was nowgoing to dinner, and that the time was past, so he knew that it was notyet his hour to give the message that he knew not. But they let him inat last, and he stood in the crowd to see the King go by. 

There was a great company there, and a vast deal of noise, for theaudiences were done, and the bill-men were pushing the folks with theirweapons to make room for the great men to go by, and the heralds werecrying out. Master Richard stood as well as he could, but he was pushedand trampled about, and he could not see very well. They went by ingreat numbers; he saw their hats and caps and their furred shouldersbetween the crooked glaives that were gilded to do honour to the King, but there was such a crying out on all sides that he could not ask whichwas the King. 

At last the shouting grew loud and then quiet, and men bowed down on allsides; and he saw the man whom he knew must be the King. 

He had a long face (as I saw for myself afterwards), rather sallow, witha long straight nose and small, full mouth; his eyebrows were black andarched high, and beneath them his sorrowful eyes looked out on thepeople; he was bowing his head courteously as he came. On his head hewore a black peaked cap of velvet; there was ermine at his collar and agold chain lay across his shoulders. 

Now this is what Master Richard saw with the eyes of his body, but withthe eyes of his soul he saw something so strange that I know not how toname or explain it. He told me that it was our Saviour whom he saw go bybetween the gilded glaives, as He was when He went from Herod's hall. Ido not understand how this may be. The King wore no beard as did ourSaviour, he was full fourteen years younger at that time than was JesuChrist when He suffered His bitter passion. They were of a height, Isuppose, and perhaps the purple that the King wore was of the samecolour as that which our Lord had put on him, but that was all thelikeness that ever I could see, for the King's hair was black and hiscomplexion sallow, but our Lord's was corn colour, and His face whiteand ruddy. [A reference, I suppose, to Cant. Cant. V. 10. ] And, again, the one was but a holy man, and the other God Almighty although made manfor our salvation. 

Yet perhaps I did not understand Master Richard aright, and that hemeant something else and that it was only to the eyes of the soul thatthe resemblance lay. If this is so, then I think I understand what itwas that he saw, though I cannot explain it to you, any more than couldhe to me. There be some matters so high that no mouth can tell them, heart only can speak to heart, but I can tell you this, that MasterRichard did not mean that our Lord was in the hall that day as He is inheaven and in the sacrament of the altar; it was something else that hemeant. .. . [There follows a doctrinal disquisition. ]

 * * * * *

When Master Richard came out from the hall, he told me that he was in akind of swoon, but having his eyes open, and that he knew not how hecame back to the guest-house. It was not until he knocked upon the doorthat he saw that the crowd was about him again, staring on him silently. 

The porter was peevish as he pulled him in, and bade him go and cut woodin the wood-house for his keep, so all that afternoon he toiled in hiswhite kirtle at the cutting with another fellow who cursed as he cut, but was silent after a while. 

Yet, when supper and bed-time came and Master Richard had assisted atcompline in the abbey-church, still he knew not what the message was tobe on Monday, when he would see the King and speak with him. 

On Sunday he did no servile work, except that he waited upon the guests, girt with an apron, and washed the dishes afterwards. He heard fourmasses that day, as well as all the hours, and prayed by himself a longwhile at saint Edward's shrine, hearing the folks go by to the tilting, and that night he went to bed with the servants, still ignorant of whathe should say on the next day. 

I am sure that he was not at all disquieted by his treatment, for he didnot speak of it to me, except what was necessary, and he blamed no one. When I saw the porter afterwards he told me nothing except that MasterRichard had worked well and willingly, and had asked for other taskswhen his were done. He had asked, too, for a plenty of water to bathehimself, which he did not get. But whether he were disquieted or no onthat Sunday, at least he was content next day, for it was on the nextday at mass that our Lord told him what was the message that he was todeliver to the King. 

There was a Cluniac monk from France who had obtained leave to say massat the shrine of the Confessor, and Master Richard followed him and hisfellow to the altar at five o'clock in the morning to hear mass thereand see his Maker. [This is the common mediaeval phrase. Men did notthen bow their heads at the Elevation. ]

He knelt down against the wall behind the high altar, and began toaddress himself to devotion, but he was distracted at first by thesplendour of the tomb, the porphyry and the glass-work below, thatMaster Peter the Roman had made, and the precious shrine of gold abovewhere the body lay, and the golden statues of the saints on either side. All about him, too, were such marvels that there is little wonder thathe could not pray well for thinking on them--the kings that lay here andthere and their effigies, and the paved steps on this side and that, andthe fair painted glass and the high dark roof. Near where he knelt, too, he could see the great relic-chest, and knew what lay therein--thegirdle of our Blessed Lady herself, mirror of chastity; the piece ofstone marked by Christ's foot as He went up to heaven; a piece of theVery Rood on which He hanged; the precious blood that He shed there, ina crystal vase; the head of saint Benet, father of monks. [Surely not!]All these things have I seen, too, myself, so I know that they are trulythere. 

Behind him, as he kneeled on the stones, sounded the singing of themonks, and the noise of so much praise delighted him, but they endedsoon, and at _Sanctus_ his spirit began to be rapt into silence, and theholy things to make heaven about him. 

He told me that he did not know what befell him until it came to theelevation of the sacring: only he knew that his soul was filled withlightness and joyousness, as when he had walked in the wood at dawnthree days before. 

But as he lifted up his hands to see his God and to beat upon hisbreast, it appeared to him, he said, as if his feet rested again on somehigher place: until then he had been neither on earth nor in heaven. 

Now there was no visible imagination that came to him then; he saidexpressly that it was not so. There was none to be seen there but thepriest in the vestment with his hood on his shoulders, and the _fraterconversus_ [that is, the lay brother. ] who held the skirt and shook thebell. Only it appeared to him that the priest held up the Body for agreat space, and in that long time Master Richard understood many thingsthat had been dark to him before. Of some of the things I have neitherroom nor wit to write; but they were such as these. 

He understood how it was that souls might go to hell, and yet that itwas good that they should go; how it was that our Saviour was born ofHis blessed Mother without any breaking of her virginity; how it is thatall things subsist in God; in what manner it is that God comes into thespecies of the bread. But he could not tell me how these things were so, nor what it was that was shewed him. .. . [There follow a few confusedremarks on the relations of faith to spiritual sight. ]

There were two more things that were shewed him: the first, that heshould not return home alive, but that his dead corpse should be carriedthere, and the second, what was the tidings that he should bear to theKing. 

Then he fell forward on his face, and so lay until the ending of themass. 

How Master Richard cried out in Westminster Hall: and of his coming toa Privy Parlour

_Eructavit cor meum verbum bonum: dico ego opera mea regi. _

My heart hath uttered a good word: I speak my works to the king. --_Ps. Xliv. 1. _

V

It would be about half an hour before the King's dinner-time, which wasten o'clock, that Master Richard came again to the hall. 

There was not so great a press that day, and the holy youth was able tomake his way near to the barrier that held back the common folk, and tosee the King plainly. He was upon his seat beneath the cloth-of-estatethat was quartered with the leopards and lilies, and had his hat uponhis head. About him, beneath the scaffold on which he sat were the greatnobles, and my lord cardinal had a chair set for him upon the right-handside, on the step below the King's. 

All was very fair and fine, said Master Richard, with pieces of richstuff hanging upon the walls on this side and that beneath the windows, and, finest of all were the colours of the robes, and the steel and thegold and the white fur and the feathers, and the gilded glaives andtrumpets, and coat-armour of the heralds. 

There was a matter about to be concluded, but Master Richard could nottell what it was, for there was a din of talking all about him, and hesaw many clerks and Religious very busy together in the crowd, shakingtheir fingers, lifting their brows, and clacking like rooks atsunset--so the young man related it. There were two fellows with theirbacks to him, standing in an open space before the scaffold with guardsabout them. One of the two was a clerk, and wore his square cap uponhis head, and the other was not. 

The King looked sick; he was but a young man at that time, not two yearsolder than Master Richard. He was listening with his head down, to aclerk who whispered in his ear, kneeling by his side with papers and agreat quill in his hand, and the King's eyes roved as he listened, nowup, now down, and his fingers with rings upon them were arched at hisear. My lord cardinal had a ruddy face and bright holy eyes, and sat inhis sanguine robes with his cap on his head, looking out with his lipspursed at the clerks and monks that babbled together beyond the barrier. He was an old man at this time, but wondrous strong and hearty. 

At the end the King sat up, and there was a silence, but he spoke so lowand quick, with his eyes cast down, and the shouting followed so hardupon his words, that Master Richard could not hear what was said. But itseemed to content the clerks and the Religious [King Henry VI. Was agreat favourer of ecclesiastics. ], for they roared and clamoured and oneflung up his cap so that it fell beyond the barrier and he could notcome at it again. Then the two prisoners louted to the King, and wentaway with their guards about them; and the King stood up, and thecardinal. 

Now this was the time on which Master Richard had determined forhimself, but for a moment he could not cry out: it seemed as if thefiend had gripped him by the throat and were hammering in his bowels. The King turned to the steps, and at that sight Master Richard wasenabled to speak. 

He had not resolved what to say, but to leave that to what God shouldput in his mouth, and this is what he cried, in a voice that all couldhear. 

"News from our Lord! News from our Lord, your grace. "

He said that when he cried that, that was first silence, and then such aclamour as he had never heard nor thought to hear. He was pushed thisway and that; one tore at his shoulder from behind; one struck him onthe head: he heard himself named madman, feeble-wit, knave, fond fellow. The guards in front turned themselves about, and made as though theywould run at the crowd with their weapons, and at that the men left offheaving at Master Richard, and went back, babbling and crying out. 

Then he cried out again with all his might. 

"I bring tidings from my Lord God to my lord the King, " and went forwardto the barrier, still looking at the King who had turned and looked backat him with sick, troubled eyes, not knowing what to do. 

A fellow seized Master Richard by the throat and pulled him against thebarrier, menacing him with his glaive, but the King said something, raising his hand, and there fell a silence. 

"What is your business, sir?" asked the King. 

The fellow released Master Richard and stood aside. 

"I bring tidings from our Lord, " said the young man. He was all out ofbreath, he told me, with the pushing and striking, and held on to thered-painted barrier with both hands. 

The King stooped and whispered with at cardinal, who was plucking him bythe sleeve, for the space of a _paternoster_, and the murmuring began tobreak out again. Then he turned, and lifted his hand once more forsilence. 

"What are the tidings, sir?"

"They are for your private ear, your grace. "

"Nay, " said the King, "we have no private ear but for God's Word. "

"This is God's Word, " said Master Richard. 

There was laughter at that, and the crowd came nearer again, but theKing did not laugh. He stood still, looking this way and that, now onMaster Richard, and now on the cardinal, who was pulling again atsleeve. It seemed as if he could not determine what to do. 

Then he spoke again. 

"Who are you, sir?"

"I am a solitary, named Richard Raynal, " said the young man. "I comefrom the country, from . .. [It is most annoying that the name of thevillage is wanting. ] Sir John Chaldfield, the parson, willundertake for me, your grace. "

"Is Sir John here?" asked my lord cardinal, smiling at the clerks. 

"No, my lord, " said Master Richard, "he has his sheep in the wilderness. He cannot run about to Court. "

There was again a noise of laughter and dissent from the crowd ofclerks, and my lord cardinal smiled more than ever, shewing his whiteteeth in the midst of his ruddy face. 

"This is a witty fellow, your grace, " said my lord cardinal aloud to theKing. "Will your grace be pleased to hear him in private?"

The King looked at Master Richard again, as if he knew not what to do. 

"Will you not tell us here, sir?" he asked. 

"I will not, your grace. "

"Have you weapons upon you?" said my lord cardinal, still smiling. 

Master Richard pointed to the linen upon his breast. 

"I bear wounds, not weapons, " he answered; which was a brave and shrewdanswer, and one that would please the King. 

His grace smiled a little at that, but the smile passed again like thesunshine between clouds on a dark and windy day, and the crowd crept upnearer, so that Master Richard could feel hot breath upon his bare neckbehind. He committed his soul again to our Lady's tuition, for he knewnot what might be the end if he were not heard out. 

 * * * * *

Well, the end of it was as you know, it was not possible for any manwith a heart in his body to look long upon Master Richard and not lovehim, and the King's face grew softer as he looked upon that fair youngman with his nut-brown hair and the clear pallour of his face and hispure simple eyes, and then at the coarse red faces behind him that creptup like devils after holy Job. It was not hard to know which was in theright, and besides the brave words that had stung the clerks to angerhad stung the King to pity and pleasure; so the end was that the guardswere bidden to let Master Richard through, and that he was to follow onin the procession, and be gently treated, and admitted to see the Kingwhen dinner was done. 

 * * * * *

So that, my children, is the manner in which it came about that my namewas cried aloud before the King's presence, and the cardinals and thenobles, in Westminster Hall on the Monday after _Deus qui nobis_. [So the collect of Corpus Christi begins. It was a common method, evenamong the laity, of defining dates. ]

Of Master Richard's speaking with the King's Grace: and how he wastaken for it

_Et nunc reges intelligite: erudimini qui judicatis terram. _

And now, O ye kings, understand: receive instruction, ye that judge theearth. --_Ps. Ii. 10. _

VI

They searched Master Richard for weapons, in spite of what he had said, when they had him alone in a little chamber off the King's closet, butnot unkindly, after what had been ordered, but they found nothingbeneath the white kirtle save the white skin, and nothing in the bursebut the book of hours and a little pen-knife, and the bottle of QuinteEssence. One of them held that up, and demanded what it was. 

"That is the cordial called Quinte Essence, " said Master Richard, smiling. 

They thought it to be a poison, so he was forced to explain that it wasnot. 

"It is made from man's blood, " he said, "which is the most perfect partof our being, and does miracles if it is used aright. "

They would know more than that, so he told them how it was made, withsalt, and set in the body of a horse, and afterwards distilled, and hetold them what marvels it wrought by God's grace; how it would draw outthe virtues and properties of things, and could be mixed with medicines, and the rest, as I have told to you before. That is the bottle you haveseen at the parsonage. 

But they would not give it back to him at that time, and said that heshould have it when the King had done talking with him. Then they wentout and left him alone, but one stood at the door to keep him untildinner was over. 

It was a little room, Master Richard said, and looked on to the river. It was hung with green saye, and was laid with rushes. There was a roundtable in the midst of the floor, and a chair on this side and that; andthere was an image of Christ upon the rood that stood upon the table. There was another door than that through which he had been brought fromthe hall. 

Master Richard, when he was left alone, tried to compose himself todevotion, but he was too much distracted by all that he had seen, untilhe had said _ad sextam_, and then he was quieter, and sat down beforethe table, looking upon the rood, and he did not know how long hadpassed before the King came in. 

 * * * * *

My children, I like to think of Master Richard then; it was his lastpeaceful hour that he spent until near the end when I came to him. Butthe peace of his heart did not leave him (except at one time), in spiteof all that happened to him, for he told me so himself. Yet, save forthe little wound upon his head, he was clean of all injury at thistime, and I like to think of him in his strength and loveliness as hewas then, content to give his tidings from our Lord to the King, and toabide what was to follow. 

As the clock beat eleven, the King came suddenly through from hisparlour, but he was not alone: my lord cardinal was with him. 

As Master Richard knelt down on the floor to do them homage, he observedthe King's dress: it was not as that of the other great men, for theKing loved plain dress, and folks said that the clothing he would haveliked best to wear was a monk's cowl or a friar's frock (and I doubt notthat there be many a monk and friar, and clerk too, who would have beenglad to change with him, for not every Religious man has a Religiousheart!). .. . [There follows a little sermon on Vocation. ]

The King's dress was a plain doublet with a collar of ermine, and overit a cloak of royal purple lined and trimmed with fur, but cut veryplainly with a round cape such as priests wear. He had the collar of_Sanctus Spiritus_ over his shoulders, his cap on his head, with a peakto it, and little plain round shoes (not like those pointed follies thatsome wear, and that make a man's foot twice as long as God made it byHis wisdom). My lord cardinal was in his proper dress, and bore himselfvery stately. 

The King bade Master Richard stand up, and himself and my lord sat downin the two chairs beside one another, so that half their faces were inshadow and half in light. Master Richard saw again that the King lookedsomewhat sick, and very melancholy. 

Then the King addressed himself to Master Richard, speaking softly, butwith an appearance of observing him very closely. My lord, too, watchedhim, folding his hands in his lap. 

"Now tell me, sir, " said the King, "what is this tidings that you bear?"

Master Richard was a little dismayed at my lord's coming: he hadthought it was to be in private. 

"It was to your ear alone, your grace, that I was bidden to deliver themessage, " he said. 

"My lord here is ears and eyes to me, " said the King, a little stiffly, and my lord smiled to hear him, and laid his hand on the King's knee. 

That was answer enough for the holy youth, who was attendant only forGod's will; so he began straightway, and told the King of hiscontemplation of eight days before, and of the dryness that fell on himwhen he strove to put away his thoughts, and of his words with me whowas his priest, and his coming to London and an the rest. Then he toldhim of how he heard mass at saint Edward's altar, and how at theelevation of the sacring our Lord had told him what tidings he was totake. 

The King observed him very closely, leaning his head on his hand and hiselbow on the table, and my lord, who had begun by playing with hischain, ceased, and watched him too. 

Master Richard told me that there was a great silence everywhere when hehad come to the matter of saint Edward's altar; it was such an exteriorsilence as is the interior silence that came to him in contemplation. There appeared no movement anywhere, neither in the room, nor thepalace, nor the world, nor in the three hearts that were beating there. There was only the great presence of God's Majesty enfolding all. 

When he ceased speaking, the King stared on him for a full minutewithout any words, then he took his arm off the table and clasped hishands. 

"And what was it that our Lord said to you, sir?" he asked softly, andleaned forward to listen. 

Master Richard looked on the sick eyes, and then at the ruddy prelate'sface that seemed very stern beside it. But he dared not be silent now. 

"It is this, your grace, that our Lord shewed to me, " he began slowly, "that your grace is not as other men are, neither in soul nor in life. You walk apart from all, even as our Saviour Christ did, when He wasupon earth. When you speak, men do not understand you; they take itamiss. They would have you make your kingdom to be of this world, andGod will not have it so. _Regnum Dei intra te est. _ ['The kingdom of Godis within thee' (from Luke xvii. 21. )] It is that kingdom which shall beyours. But to gain that kingdom you must suffer a passion, such as thatwhich Jesu suffered, and this is the tidings that He sends to you. Hebids you make ready for it. It shall be a longer passion than His, but Iknow not how long. Yet you must not go apart, as you desire. You must gothis way and that at all men's will, ever within your _portans stigmataDomini Jesu_. ['Bearing the marks of the Lord Jesu' (from Gal. Vi. 17. )]And the end of it shall be even as His, and as His apostles' was who nowrules Christendom. _Cum senueris, extendes manus tuas, et alius te cinget, et ducet quo tu non vis. _ ['When thou shalt be old thou shalt stretchforth thy hands; and another shall gird thee, and lead thee whither thouwouldst not' (John xxi. 18. )] And when you come before the heavenlyglory, and the blessed saints shall ask you of your wounds, you shallanswer them as our Lord answered, '_His plagatus sum in domo eorum quidiligebant me. _'" ["With these I was wounded in the house of them thatloved me" (Zach. Xiii. 6. )]

 * * * * *

When Master Richard had finished speaking, his head and body shook somuch that he could scarce stand, or see the King plainly, and by this heperceived for a certainty that God was speaking by him. But he was awarethat my lord cardinal was standing up with his hand outstretched and anappearance of great anger on his face. For indeed those were terriblethings that Master Richard had said--that he should foretell the King'sdeath in this manner, and all the sorrows that he should go through, for, as you know, all these words came about. 

Yet it seemed that something restrained my lord from speaking till theother was done; but when Master Richard went back a step, shaking underthe spirit of God, my lord burst out into words. 

Master Richard could not understand him; there was drumming in his ears, and the sweat poured from him, but when sight came back he observed mylord's face, red with passion, turning now to him, now to the King, whosat still in his place; his white eyebrows went up and down, and hisscarlet cape and his rochet flapped this way and that as he shook hisarms and cried out. 

When he had done there was silence again for a full minute. MasterRichard could hear the breathing of one in the gallery without. 

Then the King rose up without speaking, but looking intently upon theyoung man, and still without speaking, went out from the room, and mylord went after him. 

When Master Richard had stood a little while waiting, and there was nosound (for the door into the King's parlour was now shut again), heturned to the other door to go out; for he had delivered his message, and there was no more to be said. 

The man that kept the door, and whose breathing Master Richard had heardjust now, barred the way, and asked him his business. 

"My business is done, " said Master Richard, "I must go home again. "

"And the King?" asked the fellow. 

"The King and my lord are gone back into the parlour. "

There was no cause to keep Master Richard any longer, so the fellow lethim past, and he went down the gallery and the stairs towards the courtthat opened upon the hall. 

But before he reached the door, there was a great tumult overhead, and anoise of men moving and crying, and Master Richard stayed to listen. (Ihad almost said that it had been better if he had not stayed, but madehis way out quickly and escaped perhaps; but it is not so, as I nowbelieve, for our Lord had determined what should be the end. )

Two fellows came running presently down the stairs up which MasterRichard was looking. One of them was a page of my lord's, a lad dressedall in purple with the pointed shoes of which I have written before, andthe other the man-at-arms that had kept the door. The lad cried outshrilly when he saw him standing there, and came down the steps four ata leap, with his hands outstretched to either wall. Master Richardthought that he would fall, and stepped forward to catch him, but thelad recovered himself on the rushes, and then, screaming with anger, sprang at the young man's throat, seizing it with one hand, and strikinghim in the face again and again with the other. 

For an instant Master Richard stood amazed, then he caught the lad'shands without a word and held them so, looking at the man-at-arms whowas now half-way down the stairs in his plate and mail, and at otherswho were following as swiftly as they could. In the court outside, too, there were footsteps and the sound of talking, and presently the doorwas darkened by half a dozen others, who ran up at the tumult, and allin a moment Master Richard found himself caught from behind and hishands pulled away, so that the lad was able to strike him again, whichhe did, three or four times. 

So he was taken by the men and held. 

Master Richard could not understand what the matter was, as he looked atthe press that gathered every moment on the stairs and in the court. Sohe asked one that held him, and the page screamed out his answer abovethe tumult of voices and weapons. 

So Master Richard understood, and went upstairs under guard, with theblood staining his brown and white dress, and his face bruised andtorn, to await when the King should come out of the fit into which hehad fallen, and judge him for the message which he had brought. 

Of Master Richard's second speaking with his Grace: and of hisdetention

_Abscondes eos in abscondito faciei tuae: a conturbatione hominum. _

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of Thy face: from the disturbance ofmen. --_Ps. Xxx. 21. _

VII

I scarcely have the heart to write down all that befell Master Richard;and yet what it pleased God's Majesty that he should suffer, cannotdisplease Him to write down nor to think upon. .. . [There follows acuriously modern discussion on what I may call the gospel of Pleasure, which is a very different thing from the gospel of Joy. The former, asSir John points out, disregards and avoids pain, the latter deals withit. He points out acutely that this difference is the characteristicdifference between Greek and Christian philosophy. ]

Master Richard was taken back again by two of the men-at-arms into theparlour where he had lately seen the King, and was allowed to stand bythe window, looking out upon the river, while one fellow kept one door, and one the other. 

He strove to keep quiet interiorly, keeping his eyes fixed upon thebroad river in the sunshine and the trees on the other side, and hisheart established on God's Will. He did not know then what kind of a fitit was into which the King had fallen, nor why it was that himselfshould be blamed for it; and when he spoke to the men they gave himnothing but black looks, and one blessed himself repeatedly, with hislips moving. 

There came the sound of talking from the inner room, and once or twicethe sound of glass on glass. Without it was a fair day, very hot andwith no clouds. 

Master Richard told me that he had no fear, neither now nor afterwards;it seemed to him as if all had been done before; he said it was as if hewere one in a play, whose part and words are all assigned beforehand, as well as the parts and words of the others, by the will of thewriter; so that when violence is done, or injustice, or hard wordsspoken, or death suffered, it is all part of the agreed plan and mustnot be resisted nor questioned, else all will be spoiled. It appeared tohim too as if the ankret in the cell were privy to it all, and werestanding, observing and approving; for Master Richard remembered whatthe holy man had said as to the five wounds marked upon the linen, andhow he would not need to wear them much longer. 

 * * * * *

After about half-an-hour, as he supposed, the voices waxed louder in theother room; and presently one came out from it in the black dress of aphysician. He was a pale man, shaven clean, a little bald, and verythin. It was that physician that died last year. 

He said nothing, though his face worked, and he beckoned sharply toMaster Richard. 

Master Richard went immediately across the floor and through into thefurther room. 

There were a dozen persons gathered there, all staring upon the King, who sat in a great chair by the table. Two or three of these wereservants, and the rest of them, with my lord cardinal, the nobles thathad been in the palace at the time of the King's seizure. My lordcardinal was standing by the chair, very stern and anxious-looking; andall turned their faces, and there was an angry whisper from theirmouths, as the young man came forward and halted; and the physician shutto the door. 

But Master Richard did not observe them closely at that time; for he waslooking upon the King. 

The King sat very upright in his chair; his hands rested on the carvedarms; and his face and eyes were as if made of Caen stone, chalky andhard. He was looking out from the room, Master Richard said; and MasterRichard knew at once what it was that he was seeing. It was that ofwhich the holy youth had spoken; and was nothing else than the passionand death that came upon him afterwards. The words that the King hadheard had opened the eyes of his soul, and he was now seeing forhimself. 

Before that any could speak or hinder, Master Richard was on his kneesby the King, and had laid his lips to the white right-hand, seeing as hedid so the red ring on the first finger. My lord cardinal sprang forwardto tear him off, but the King turned his stony eyes; and my lord fellback. 

Then Master Richard knew that he had not given the whole message; andthat our Lord had not intended it at first. The message of the passionand death was to be first; and the second, second--first the wound, andthen the balm. 

So he began to speak; and these were the words as he told them to me. 

"My lord King, " he said, "Our Lord does not leave us comfortless when Hesends us sorrow. This is a great honour, greater than the crown thatyou bear, to bear the crown of thorns. That bitter passion of Christthat He bore for our salvation is wrought out in the Body which is HisChurch, and especially in those members, which, like His sacred handsand feet, receive the nails into themselves. Happy are those membersthat receive the nails; they are the more honourable; it was on His feetthat He went about to do good; and with His hands that He healed andblessed and gave His precious body; and with His burning heart that Heloves us. 

"My lord King; men will name you fool and madman and crowned calf; it isto their shame that they do so, and to your honour. For so they namedour Saviour. All who set not their minds on this world are accountedfools; but who will be the merrier in the world that is to come?

"And, last, our Lord has bestowed on your highness an honour that Hebestows upon few, but which Himself suffered; and that, the knowledge ofwhat is to be. In this manner the passion is borne a thousand times aday, by foreknowledge; and for every such pain there is a joy awarded. It is for this reason that you may bear yourself rightly, and that Hemay crown you more richly that our Lord has sent me to you, and biddenme tell you this. "

 * * * * *

All this while Master Richard was looking upon the King's face, butthere was no alteration in his aspect. It was as the colour of ashes, and his eyes like stone; and yet Master Richard knew very well that hisgrace heard what was said, but could not answer it. (It was so with himoften afterwards: he would sit thus without speaking or answering whatwas said to him: he would go thus to mass and dinner and to bed, as paleas a spirit: he would even ride thus among his army, with his crown onhis head, and his sword in his hand, dumb but not deaf; and looking uponwhat others could not see: and all, as those about him knew very well, began from the hearing of the message that Master Richard Raynalbrought to him from God's Majesty). 

While Master Richard was speaking the rest kept silence: for I thinkthat somewhat held them for pity of those two young men--for the onethat sat in such stiff agony, and for the other near as pale, and redwith his own blood, that spoke so eloquently. But when he had done andhad kissed the white hand again, my lord cardinal came forward, pushedhim aside, and himself began to speak in a voice that was at oncepitiful and angry, crying upon the King to answer, telling him that hewas bewitched and under the power of Satan through the machinations ofMaster Richard, and blessing him again and again. 

Master Richard stood aside watching, and wondering that my lord couldspeak so, and not understand the truth; and he looked round at theothers to see if any there understood. But they were all dumb, exceptfor muttering, and gave him black looks, and blessed themselves as theireyes met his; so he committed himself to prayer. [Sir John preaches alittle sermon here on internal recollection, and the advantages of thepractice. ]

It was of no avail; the King could not speak; and presently thephysician, Master Blytchett, [this is an extraordinary name, and isobviously a corruption of some English name, but I do not know what itcan be, nor why it was retained, when all others were erased. ] cameand whispered in my lord's ear as he knelt at the King's knees. Mylord turned his head and nodded, and Master Richard was seized frombehind and pulled through the door. The man who had pulled him was oneof the servants. I saw him afterwards and spoke with him, when he wassorry for what he had done; but now he spat on Master Richard fiercely, for the door was shut; and blessed himself mightily meanwhile. 

Then he spoke to the man that kept the door; and said that MasterRichard was to be taken down and kept close, until there was need of himagain; for that the King was no better. 

So Master Richard was brought downstairs, and through the guard-roominto one of the little cells: and as he went he was thinking on thewords of our Saviour. 

_Si male locutus sum, testimonium perhibe de malo: si autem bene, quidme caedis?_ ["If I have spoken ill, give testimony of the evil, but ifwell, why strikest thou me?" (John xviii. 23. )]

Of the Parson's Disquisition on the whole matter

_In columna nubis loquebatur ad eos. _

He spoke to them in the pillar of the cloud. --_Ps. Xcviii. 7. _

VIII

{At this point of the narrative, in consideration of what has precededand what is yet to follow, Sir John Chaldfield thinks it proper toenlarge at great length upon the threefold nature of man, and thevarious characters and functions that emerge from the development ofeach part. 

For the sake of those who are more interested in the adventures ofMaster Richard and the King than in a medieval priest's surmises as totheir respective psychological states, I shall take leave to summarise afew of his remarks and omit the rest. The whole section, in fact, mightbe omitted without any detriment to the history; and may be ignored bythose who have arrived as far as this point in the reading of the book. 

Sir John is somewhat obscure; and I suspect that he does not fullyunderstand the theory that he attempts to state, which I suppose wastaught him originally by Richard Raynal himself, and subsequentlyillustrated by the priest's own studies. He instances several cases asexamples of the classes of persons to which he refers; but his obscurityis further deepened by the action of the zealous and discreet scribe, who, as I have said in the preface, has been careful to omit nearly allthe names in Sir John's original manuscript. 

Briefly, his theory is as follows--at least so far as I can understandhim. 

 * * * * *

It is at once man's glory and penalty that he is a mixed being. By thepossession of his complex nature he is capable of both height anddepth. He can devote himself to God or Satan; and there are two methodsby which he can attain to proficiency in either of those services. Hecan issue forth through his highest or lowest self, according to his ownwill and predispositions. 

Most men are predisposed to act through the lower or physical self; andby an interior intention direct their actions towards good or evil. Those that serve God in this manner are often incapable of high mysticalacts; but they refrain generally from sin; and when they sin returnthrough Penance. Those who so serve Satan sin freely, and make noefforts at reformation. A few of these, by a wholehearted devotion toevil, succeed in establishing a relation between themselves and physicalnature, and gain a certain control over the lower powers inherent in it. To this class belong the less important magicians and witches; and evensome good Christians possess such powers (which we now call psychical)which, generally speaking, they are at a loss to understand. Suchpersons can blast or wither by the eye; they have a strange authorityover animals; [I append a form of words which Sir John quotes, andwhich, he says, may be used sometimes lawfully even by christened men. It is to be addressed in necessity to a troublesome snake. "By Him whocreated thee I adjure thee that thou remain in the spot where thou art, whether it be thy will to do so or otherwise. And I curse thee with thecurse wherewith the Lord hath cursed thee. "] and are able to set up aconnection between inanimate material objects and organic beings. [Heinstances the wasting of an enemy by melting a representation of himfashioned in wax. ] But such magic, even when malevolent, need not begreatly feared by Christian men living in grace: its physical orpsychical influence can be counteracted by corresponding physical acts:such things as the sign of the cross, the use of sacramentals, theavoidance of notoriously injurious follies such as beginning work onFriday, the observance of such matters as wearing Principium Evangeliisecundum Joannem on the person, and the paying of ocular deference toSaint Christopher on rising--these precautions and others like them areusually a sufficient safeguard. [I am afraid it is impossible to clearSir John wholly of the charge of superstition. The "Beginning of theGospel according to John" was the fourteen verses read as the lastGospel after mass. A copy of this passage was often carried, sewn intothe clothes, to protect from various ills. The image of St. Christopherusually stood near the door of the church to ensure against violentdeath all who looked on it in the morning. ]

But all this is a very different matter from the high mysticism ofcontemplatives, ascetics, and Satanic adepts. 

These are persons endowed with extraordinary dispositions, who haveresolved to deal with invisible things through the highest faculty oftheir nature. The Satanic adepts are greatly to be feared, even inmatters pertaining to salvation, for, although their power has beenvastly restricted by the union of the divine and human natures in theIncarnation of the Son of God, yet they are capable by the exercise oftheir power, of obscuring spiritual faculties, and bringing to beargrievous temptations, as well as of afflicting by sickness, misfortuneand death. 

These select souls are the great mages of all time; and their leader, since the year of redemption, Simon Magus himself, could be dealt withby none other than the Vicar of Christ and prince of apostles. 

It is not every man, even with the worst will in the world, who iscapable of rising to this sinister position: for it is not enough torenounce the faith, to make a league with Satan, to insult the cross andto commit other enormities: there must also be resident in the aspiranta peculiar faculty, corresponding to, if not identical with, theglorious endowment of the contemplative. If, however, all these andother conditions are fulfilled, the initiated person is severed finallyfrom the Body of Christ and incorporated into that of Satan, throughwhich mysterious regeneration it receives supernatural powerscorresponding to those of the baptised soul. 

Finally Sir John considers those whom he calls "God's adepts, " andamong those, though in different classes, he places Richard Raynaland the King. [A little later on he also mentions King Solomon as aneminent pre-Christian adept, and Enoch. ] These adepts, he says, are ofevery condition and character, but that which binds them together is thefact that they all alike deal directly with invisible things, and not, as others do, through veils and symbols. Since the Incarnation, however, all baptized persons who frequent the sacraments are in a certain degreeadepts, for in those sacraments they may be truly said to see, handle, hear and taste the Word of Life. Other powers, however, are stillreserved to those who are the masters of the spiritual life;--for notall persons, however holy, are contemplatives, ecstatics, or seers. 

Now contemplation is an arduous labour; it is not, as some ignorantpersons think, a process of idle absorption; it is rather a state ofstrenuous endeavour, aided at any rate in its first stages by acts ofsteady detachment from the world of sense. Richard Raynal had passedthrough the first rigour of that purgative stage in the short period ofone year, and although he still lived a detached life, and practisedvarious austerities, he was so far free of danger that he was able, ashas been already remarked, to dig and talk without interrupting theexercise of his higher faculties. He had then passed to the illuminativestage, and had remained, again for one year, in the process of beinginformed, taught and kindled in preparation for the third and last stageof union with the Divine--elsewhere named the Way of Perfection. He hadbeen rewarded by various sensible gifts, particularly by that ofEcstasy, by which the soul passes, as fully as an embodied soul canpass, into the state of eternity. Here mysteries are seen plainly, though they seldom can be declared in words, or at least only haltinglyand under physical images that are not really adequate to that whichthey represent. [That which Richard calls Calor, or Warmth, appearsto be one of these. ]

With the King, however, it was different. By the exigencies of hisvocation he was unable to live the properly contemplative life;solitude, an essential to that life, was impossible to him: but he haddone what he could by asceticism and the habit of recollection; and, further, his soul had been naturally one of those which had thenecessary endowments of the contemplative. 

The purgative, illuminative and unitive stages had therefore beenconfused, and had come upon him simultaneously, though gradually; andthis as was to be expected, had resulted in intense suffering. There wasfor him no gradation by which he passed slowly upwards from detachmentto union. Richard Raynal's words to him had coincided with thestruggling emergence of his own soul on to the higher plane; and he hadopened his spiritual eyes on to a terrible future for which he had hadbut little preparation. The result had been a kind of paralysis of hiswhole nature, and henceforward the rest of his life, Sir Johnmaintains, had been darkened by his first definite experience in themystical region. If indeed this King was none other than Henry theSixth, Sir John's explanation is an interesting commentary on thatmelancholy personage. Richard then, according to this hypothesis, found joy in his contemplation because he had been trained to look forit; and Henry had found sorrow because he had been overwhelmed by thesuddenness of the revelation and his men unpreparedness. Sir John addsthat it is difficult to know which of the two lives would be morepleasing to God Almighty. 

As regards his whole statement I feel it is impossible to say more thanto quote the opinion of a modern mystic to whom I submitted theoriginal; which was to the effect that it contains a little nonsense, agood deal of truth, and a not intolerable admixture of superstition. Headded further that Sir John must not be judged hardly; for he waslimited by an inadequate vocabulary and an ignorance of many of theterms that his scanty reading enabled him to employ. }

How Master Richard took his meat: and of Master Lieutenant's whippingof him

_Domine, ante te omne desiderium meum; et gemitus meus a te non estabsconditus. _

Lord, all my desire is before Thee: and my groaning is not hidden fromThee. --_Ps. Xxxvii. 10. _

IX

It was a little cell in which Master Richard found himself thatafternoon, after he had passed through the guardroom and heard the angerand laughter of the men-at-arms, and sustained their blows, and when hehad looked about it, at the little narrow window high up upon the wall, and the water that dripped here and there from the stones, and thestrong door shut upon him, the first thing that he did was to go downupon his knees in the puddle, and thank God for solitude. 

(There be two kinds of men in the world, those that love solitude, andthose that hate it; for there be two kinds of souls, the full and theempty. Those that be full have enough to occupy them with, and thosethat be empty are for ever seeking somewhat wherewith to occupy them. )

When he had done that he looked round again upon the walls and theceiling and the floor, and sitting down upon the wood that was to be hispillow, first girding up his kirtle that it might not be fouled, hesought to unite himself with all that he saw, that it might be hisfriend and not his foe. So he told me when I asked him, but I do notknow if I understood him aright. 

There he sat then a great while, communing with God, and the saints, with his cell and with his soul, and after a little time his interiorquiet was again restored. Then, as he knew he would have no light thatnight, and that the cell would grow dark early, for his window lookedeastwards, and was a very little one, he made haste to say the rest ofhis office from the book that he had with him. But he said it slowly, asthe Carthusians use, sucking the sweetness out of every word, and saying_Jesu_ or _Mary_ at every star [the break in each verse of the psalteris marked with an asterisk], and after a while the sweetnesswas so piercing that he could scarcely refrain from crying out. 

When he had done he looked again at his window, and saw that the stripof sky was becoming green with evening light, and he thought upon hishazels at home. 

Half an hour afterwards a fellow came with his bread and water forsupper, on a wooden plate and in a great jug, set them down and went outwithout speaking. 

 * * * * *

Now I will tell you all that Master Richard did; it was his custom whenhe was at home, and he observed it here too. 

He first poured water upon his hands, saying the psalm _lavabo_, and hedried them upon the sleeves of his habit, for he had no napkin; then heset the second stool before him, and broke the bread upon it into fiveparts, in memory of the five wounds, setting two portions here and twothere, and the fifth in the middle. Then he blessed the food, lookingupon it a great while, and seeing with the eyes of his soul hisSaviour's body stretched upon the rood. Then he began to eat, dippingeach morsel into its proper wound, so that it tasted to him sweet aswine, and last of all he ate that which lay in the middle, thinking onthe heart that was pierced for love of him. Then he drank water, blessedhimself, and gave thanks to God, and last of all poured water once moreupon his hands. 

Master Richard has often told me that there is no such sweet food to befound anywhere--(save only the sacrament of the altar)--as that which isso blessed and so eaten, and indeed I have found it so myself, when Ihave had patience to do so with it. [Sir John makes here a few rathertrite remarks upon holy bread and ashes and upon various methods ofdevotion. His words are quite irrelevant, therefore I omit them. He iscareful, however, to warn his flock that not every form of devotion isequally suitable for every soul. ]. .. . 

Now God was preparing three trials for Master Richard, and the firstcame on the following morning very early. 

He had not slept very well; the noise from the guard-room without wastoo great, and when that was quiet there was still the foulness of theplace to keep him awake, for all the floor was strewn with rotten ragsand straw and bones, as it were a kennel. His wounds, besides, had notbeen tended, and he was very sick when he awoke, and for a while scarceknew where he was. I think, perhaps, he had taken the fever then. 

He heard presently steps in the way that led to his cell, and talking, and immediately his door was unlocked and opened. There came in alieutenant of the King's guard, richly dressed, and in half-armour, withhis sword at his side. He had a heavy, hairy face, and as MasterRichard sat up on his blanket he perceived that the man was littlebetter than an animal--gross-bodied and gross-souled. I saw the fellowlater, though I did not speak with him, and I judge as Master Richardjudged. There were four men behind him. 

Master Richard stood up immediately to salute the King's officer, andstood awaiting what should follow, but he swayed with sickness as hestood. 

The officer said a word to his men, and they haled Master Richard forth, pulling him roughly, although he went willingly, as well he was able forhis sickness, through the passage and into the guard-room. 

There was a table set there on a step at the upper end with a chairbehind it; and at the lower end was a couple of men cleaning theirharness beneath a gallery that was held up by posts; the rest were outchanging guard. The door into the court was wide at first, and the sweetair streamed in, refreshing Master Richard like wine after the stenchthat was in his nostrils, and making him think upon the country againand running water and birds, but Master-Lieutenant, when he had takenhis seat, bade them close it, and to set Master Richard before him; allof which they did, and so held him. 

Then he began to speak. 

"Now, sir, " he said roughly, "my lord King is at the point of death, andI am here to examine you. What is it that you have done to his grace?"

Now Master Richard knew that the King could not die, else where were thepassion he was to undergo? And if the officer could lie in this matter, why should he not lie in other matters?

"Where is your authority, " he said "to examine me?"

"What sir! do you question that? You shall see my authority by and bye. "

"I am willing to answer you as one man to another" said Master Richardsoftly, "but not to plead, until I have seen your authority. "

"Oh! you are willing to answer!" said the officer, smiling like an angrydog. "Very well, then. What have you done to his grace?"

"I have done nothing, " said Master Richard, "save give the message thatour Lord bade me give. "

Master-Lieutenant laughed short and sharp at that, and the two men thatheld Master Richard laughed with him. (The other two men were gone tothe other end of the hall, and Master Richard could not see what theywere doing. )

"Oho!" said the officer, "that is all that you have done to his grace! Iwould advise you, sir, not to play the fool with me. We know very wellwhat you have done; but we would know from you how and when you did it. "

Master Richard said nothing to that. He felt very light in the head, what with his wounds and the bad air, and the strangeness of theposition. He knew that he was smiling, but he could not prevent it. Hissmiling angered the man. 

"You dare smile at me, sir!" he cried. "I will teach you to smile!"--andhe struck the table with his hand, so that the ink-horn danced upon it. 

"I cannot help smiling, " said Master Richard. "I think I am faint, sir. "

One of the men shook him by the arm, and Master Richard's sense cameback a little. 

When he could see again clearly (for just now the face of the officerand the woodwork behind him swam like images seen in water), Master-Lieutenant had a little bottle in his hand. He bade MasterRichard look upon it and asked him what it was. 

"I think it to be my Quinte Essence" said Master Richard. 

"You acknowledge that then!" cries the man. "And what is QuinteEssence?"

"It is distilled of blood" said Master Richard. 

The officer set the bottle down again upon the table. 

"Now sir" he said, "that is enough to cast you. None who was a Christianman would have such a thing. Say _paternoster_. " [This seems to havebeen one of the tests in trials for witchcraft. ]

"_Paternoster_ . .. " began Master Richard. 

Now, my children, I cannot explain what this signified, but MasterRichard could get no further than that. I know that I myself cannot sayany of the prayers of mass when I am away from the altar, and otherpriests have told me the same of themselves, but it seems to me verystrange that a man should not at any time be able to say _paternoster_. Whether it was that Master Richard was sick, or that the officer's facetroubled him, or whether that God Almighty desired to put him to agrievous test, I know not. But he could not say it. He repeated over andover again, _Paternoster . .. Paternoster_, and swayed as he stood. 

The officer's face grew dark and a little afraid; he blessed himselfthree or four times, and breathed through his nostrils heavily. MasterRichard felt himself smiling again, and presently fell to laughing, andas he laughed he perceived that the men who held him drew away from hima little, and blessed themselves too. 

"I cannot help it, " sobbed Master Richard presently, "to think that Icannot say _paternoster_!"

When he had recovered himself somewhat, he perceived that the two othermen were come up behind him. 

Then the officer bade him turn and look, and he did so, with the tearsof that dreadful laughter still upon his cheeks. 

The two men were standing there; one had a great hangman's whip ofleather in his hand, and the other a rope. 

"Now, sir;" said the officer behind him, "here is enough authority foryou and me. Shall I bid them begin, or will you tell us what it is thatyou have done to the King?"

Now, Master Richard had nothing to tell, as you know; he could not havesaved himself in any case from the torment, but our Lord allowed him tohave this trial, to see how he would bear himself. He might have criedout for mercy, or told a false tale as men so often have done, but hedid neither of these things. The laughter again rose in his throat, buthe drove it down, and after looking upon the men's faces and the arms ofthe man that held the whip, he turned once more to the officer. 

"I have scourged myself too often, " he said, "to fear such pain; and ourSaviour bore stripes for me. "

Then (for the men had released him that he might turn round) he undidthe button at his throat, and threw back the kirtle, knotting thesleeves about his waist, and so stood, naked to his middle, awaiting thepunishment. 

He told me afterwards that never had he felt such lightness and freedomas he felt at this time. His body yearned for the pain, as it yearnedfor the sting and thrill of cold water on a cold day. When he wastelling me, I understood better how it was that the holy martyrs were somerry in the midst of their torments. [Sir John relates at considerablelength the Acts of St. Laurence and St. Sebastian. ]. .. . 

When the officer had looked on him a moment, he bade him turn round, andso, I suppose, sat staring upon the youth's holy shoulders that werecovered with the old stripes that he had given himself. At last MasterRichard faced about again; and again, as he looked upon the solemn faceof the man, he began to laugh. It seemed a marvellous jest, he thought, that so long a consideration should be given to so small a matter as awhipping. I am glad I was not there to bear that laughter; I think itwould quite have broken my heart. 

 * * * * *

Well, my children, I cannot write what followed, but the end of it wasthat the post to which Master Richard's hands were tied, and the face ofMaster-Lieutenant standing behind it, and the wall behind him with theweapons upon it, grew white and frosted to the young man's eyes, andbegan to toss up and down, and a great roaring sounded in his ears. Hethought, he told me afterwards, that he was on Calvary beneath the rood, and that the rocks were rending about him. 

So he swooned clean away, and was carried back again to his prison. 

 * * * * *

Now I learned afterwards that the officer had no authority such as hepretended, but that he had sworn to his fellows that he could find outthe truth by a pretence of it, thinking Master Richard to be a poorcrazed fool who would cry out and confess at the touch of the whip. 

But Master Richard did not cry out for mercy. And I hold that he passedthis first trial bravely. 

Of the Second Temptation of Master Richard: and how he overcame it

_Exacuerunt ut gladium linguas suas: interderunt arcum rem amaram: utsagittent in occultis immaculatum. _

They have whetted their tongues like a sword: they have bent their bow abitter thing, to shoot in secret the undefiled. --_Ps. Lxiii, 4, 5. _

X

As Master Richard had striven to serve God in the trinity of his nature, so was he to be tried in the trinity of his nature. It was first in hisbody that he was tempted, by pain and the fear of it; and his secondtrial came later in the same day--which was in his mind. 

He lay abed that morning till his dinner was brought to him, knowingsometimes what passed--how a rat came out and looked on him awhile, moving its whiskers; how the patch of sunlight upon the wall darkenedand passed; and how a bee came in and hummed a great while in the room;and sometimes conscious of nothing but his own soul. He could make noeffort, he told me, and he did not attempt it. He only lay still, committing himself to God Almighty. 

He could not eat the meat, even had he wished it, but he drank a littlebroth and ate some bread, and then slept again. 

 * * * * *

He did not know what time it was when he awoke and found one by his bed, looking down on him, he thought, compassionately. It was growing towardsevening, for it way darker, or else his eyes were heavy and confusedwith sickness, but he could not see very clearly the face of the man whostood by him. 

The man presently kneeled down by the bed, murmuring with pity as itseemed, and Master Richard felt himself raised a little, and then laiddown again, and there was something soft at the nape of his neck overthe wooden pillow and against his torn shoulders. There was something, too, laid across his body and legs, as if to keep him from chill. 

He said nothing for a while; he did not know what to say, but he lookedsteadily at the face that looked on him, and saw that it was that of ayoung man, not five years older than himself, shaven clean like a clerk, and the eyes of him seemed pitiful and loving. 

"_Laudetur Jesus Christus!_" said Master Richard presently, as hiscustom was when he awoke. 

"_Amen_, " said the man beside the bed. 

That comforted Master Richard a little--that the man should say _Amen_to his praise of Jesu Christ, so he asked him who he was and what he didthere. 

The young man said nothing to that, but asked him instead how he did, and his voice was so smooth and tender that Master Richard was furtherencouraged. 

"I do far better than our Lord did, " he answered. "He had none tominister to Him. "

It seemed that the young man was moved at that, for he hid his face inhis hands a moment. 

Then he began to pity Master Richard, saying that it was a shame that hehad been so evilly treated, and that Master-Lieutenant should smart forit if it ever came to his grace's ears. But he said this so strangelythat Master Richard was astonished. 

"And how does the King do?" he asked. 

"The King is at the point of death, " said the young man solemnly. 

"It is no more than the point then, " said Master Richard confidently, "and a point that will not pierce him, else what of the passion that hemust suffer?"

The young man seemed to look on him very steadily and earnestly at that. 

"Why do you look at me like that?" he asked him. "I have done nothing tohis grace save give my tidings. "

"Master Hermit, " said the young man very gravely, "I entreat you not tospeak like that. "

"How should I speak then?" he asked. 

The young man did not answer immediately, but he moved on his knees alittle closer to the bed, and took Master Richard's hand softly betweenhis own, and so held it, caressing it. Master Richard told me that thisaction moved him more than all else; he felt the tears rise to his eyes, and he gave a sob or two. It is always so with noble natures after greatpain. [Sir John relates here the curious history of a girl who wasnearly burned as a witch, and that when she was reprieved she yielded atonce to the solicitations of marriage from a man whom she had alwayshated, but who was the first to congratulate her on her escape. But thestory sadly interrupts the drama of the main narrative, and therefore Iomit it. ]. .. . 

Then the young man spoke very sweetly and kindly. 

"Master Hermit, " he said, "you must bear with me for bringing sadtidings to you. But will you hear them now or to-morrow?"

"I will hear them now, " said Master Richard. 

So the young man proceeded. 

"One came back to-day from your home in the country. He was sent thereyesterday night by my lord cardinal. He spoke with your parson, SirJohn, and what he heard from him he has told to my lord, and I heardit. "

(This was a lie, my children. No man from London had spoken with me. Butyou shall see what follows. )

"And what did Sir John tell him, " asked Master Richard quietly. "Did hesay he knew nothing of me?"

Now he asked this, thinking that perhaps this was a method of temptinghim. And so it was, but worse than he thought it. 

"No, poor lad, " said the young man very pitifully, "Sir John knew youwell enough. The messenger saw your little house, too, and the hazelsabout it; and the stream, and the path that you have made; and therewere beasts there, he said, a stag and pig that looked lamentably outfrom the thicket. "

Now observe the Satanic guile of this! For at the mention of all hislittle things, and his creatures that loved him, Master Richard couldnot hold back his tears, for he had thought so often upon them, anddesired to see them again. So the young man stayed in his talk, andcaressed his hand again, and murmured compassionately. 

Presently Master Richard was quiet, and asked the young man to tell himwhat the parson had said. 

"To-morrow, " said the young man, making as if to rise. 

"To-day, " said Master Richard. 

So the young man went on. 

"He went to the parsonage with Sir John, and talked with him there along while--"

"Did he see my books?" said Master Richard in his simplicity. 

"Yes, poor lad; he saw your books. And then Sir John told him what hethought. "

"And what was that?" said Master Richard, faint with the thought of theanswer. 

The young man caressed his hand again, and then pressed it as if to givehim courage. 

"Sir John told him that you were a good fellow; that you injured neitherman nor beast; and that all spoke well of you. "

Then the young man stayed again. 

"Ah! tell me, " cried Master Richard. 

"Well, poor lad; as God sees us now, Sir John told the messenger that hethought you to be deluded; that you deemed yourself holy when you werenot, and that you talked with the saints and our Lord, but that theseappearances were no more than the creations of your own sick brain. Hesaid that he humoured you; for that he feared you would be troublesomeif he did not, and that all the folk of the village said the same thingto you, to please you and keep you quiet. --Ah! poor child!"

The young man cried out as if in sorrow, and lifted Master Richard'shand and kissed it. 

Master Richard told me that when he heard that it was as a blow in theface to him. He could not answer, nor even think clearly. It was as if agross darkness, full of wings and eyes and mocking faces pressed uponhim, and he believed that he cried out, and that he must have swooned, for when he came to himself again his face was all wet with water thatthe young man had thrown upon it. 

It was a minute or two more before he could speak, and during that timeit appeared to him that he did not think himself, but that ideas movedbefore his eyes, manifesting themselves. At first there was a doubt asto whether the young man had spoken the truth, and whether any messengerhad been to the village at all, but the mention of the hazels, the stagand the pig, and his books, dispelled that thought. 

Again it did not seem possible that the young man should have lied asto what it was that I was said to have answered; if they had wished tolie, surely they would have lied more entirely, and related that I haddenied all knowledge of him. But the falsehood was so subtle an one; itwas so well interwoven with truth that I count it to have beenimpossible for Master Richard in his sickness and confusion to havedisentangled the one from the other. I have heard a physician say, too, that the surest manner to perplex a man is to suggest to him that hisbrain is clouded; at such words he often loses all knowledge of self; hedoubts his own thoughts, and even his senses. 

This, then, was Master Richard's temptation--that he should doubthimself, his friends, and even our Lord who had manifested Himself sooften and so kindly to the eyes of his soul. 

Yet he did not yield to it, although he could not repel it. He criedupon Jesu in his heart, and then set the puzzle by. 

He looked at the young man once more. 

"And why do you tell me this?" he asked. 

The clerk (if he were a clerk) answered him first by anotherJudas-caress or two, and then by Judas-words. 

"Master Hermit, " he said, "I am but a poor priest, but my words havesome weight with two or three persons of the court; and these again havesome weight with my lord cardinal. I asked leave to come and tell youthis as kindly as I could, and to see what you would say. I observed youin the hall the other day, and I have a good report of yourreasonableness from the monastery. I conceived, too, a great love foryou when I saw you, and wish you well; and I think I can do you a greatservice, and get you forth from this place that you may go whither youwill, --to your house by the stream or to some other place where noneknow you. Would it not be pleasant to you to be in the country again, and to serve God with all your might in some sweet and secret placewhere men are not?"

"I can serve God here as there, " answered Master Richard. 

"Well--let that be. But what if God Almighty wishes you to be at peace?We must not rush foolishly upon death. That is forbidden to us. "

"I do not seek death, " said Master Richard. 

The clerk leaned over him a little, and Master Richard saw his eyes bentupon him with great tenderness. 

"Master Hermit, " he said, "I entreat you not to be your own enemy. Yousee that those that know you best love you, but they do not think you tobe what you think you are---"

"I am nothing but God's man, and a sinner, " said the lad. 

"Well, they think your visions and the rest to be but delusions. And ifthey be delusions, why should not other matters be delusions too?"

"What matters?" asked Master Richard. 

"Such matters as the tidings that you brought to the King. "

"And what is it you would have me to do?" asked Master Richard againafter a silence. 

"It is only a little thing, poor lad--such a little thing! and then youwill be able to go whither you will. "

"And what is that little thing?"

"It is to tell me that you think them delusions too. "

"But I do not think them so, " said Master Richard. 

"Think as you will then, Master Hermit; but, you know, when folks aresick we may tell them anything without sin. And the King is sick todeath. I do not believe that you have bewitched him: you have too good aface and air for that--and for the matter of the _paternoster_ I do notvalue it at a straw. The King is sick with agony at what he thinks willcome upon him after your words. He will not listen to my lord cardinal:he sits silent and terrified, and has taken no food to-day. But if youwill but tell him, Master Hermit, that you were mistaken in yourtidings--that it was but a fancy, and that you know better now--all willbe well with him and with you, and with us all who love you both. "

So the clerk spoke, tempting him, and leaned back again on his heels;and Master Richard lay a great while silent. 

 * * * * *

Now, I do not know who was this young man, whether he were a clerk orwhether he were not a devil in form of a man. I could hear nothing ofhim at Court when I went there. It may be that he was one of those idlefellows that had come to Master Richard from time to time to ask him tomake them hermits with him, else how did he know the matters of the stagand the pig and the stream and the rest? But it does not greatly matterwhether his soul were a devil's or a man's, for in any case his wordswere Satan's. If I had not heard what came after I should have believedthis temptation to be the most subtle ever devised in hell and permittedfrom heaven. He spoke so tenderly and so sweetly; he commanded hisfeatures so perfectly; he seemed to speak with such love andreasonableness. 

Yet I would have you know that Master Richard did not yield by a hair'sbreadth in thought. He examined the temptation carefully, setting asidealtogether the question as to whether I had spoken as this young man hadsaid that I had. Whether I had spoken so or not made no difference. Itwas this that he was bidden to do, to say that he had erred in histidings, to confess that they were not from God; to be a faithlessmessenger to our Lord. 

He examined this, then, looking carefully at all parts of thetemptation. [Sir John appends at this point two or three paragraphs, distinguishing between the observing of a temptation of thought andthe yielding to it. He instances Christ's temptation in the Garden ofGethsemane. ]. .. . 

At the end Master Richard opened his eyes and looked steadily upon theyoung man's face. 

"Take this answer, " he said, "to those that sent you. I will neitherhear nor consider such words any more. If I yield in this matter, andsay one word to the King or to any other, by which any may understandthat my message was a delusion, or that I spoke of myself and not fromour Lord, then I pray that our Lord may blot my name out of the Book ofLife. "

 * * * * *

So Master Richard answered and closed his eyes to commune with God. Andthe young man went away sighing but speaking no word. 

Of the Dark Night of the Soul

_De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine: Domine exaudi vocem meam. _

Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord: Lord, hear myvoice. --_Ps. Cxxix. 1, 2. _

XI

The third temptation was so fierce and subtle, that I doubt whether Iwholly understood it when Master Richard tried to tell it to me. He didnot tell me all, and he could answer but few questions, and I fear thatI am not able to tell even all that I heard from him. It was built uplike a house, he said, stone by stone, till it fenced him in, but he didnot know what was all its nature till he saw my lord cardinal. 

A soul such as was Master Richard's must have temptations that seem asnothing to coarser beings such as myself: as a bird that lives in theair has dangers that a crawling beast cannot have. There are perils inthe height that are not perils on the earth. A bird may strike a tree ora tower; his wings may fail him; he may fly too near the sun till hefaint in its heat; he cannot rest; if he is overtaken by darkness hecannot lie still. [Sir John enumerates at some length other such dangersto bird life. ]. .. . 

 * * * * *

Now Master Richard described the state into which he fell under acurious name that I cannot altogether understand. He said that there bethree _nights_ through which the contemplative soul must pass or ever itcome to the dawn. The first two he had gone through during his life inthe country; the first is a kind of long-continued dryness, whenspiritual things have no savour; the second is an affection of the mind, when not even meditation [This is an exercise distinct from contemplationapparently. I include this passage, in spite of its technicalities, forobvious reasons. ] appears possible; the mind is like a restless fly thatis at once weary and active. This second is not often attained to byordinary souls, though all men who serve God have a shadow of it. It isa very terrible state. Master Richard told me that before he suffered ithe had not conceived that such conflict was possible to man. It wasduring this time that the fiend came to him in form of a woman. Theimagination that cannot fix itself upon the things of God is wide-awaketo all other impressions of sense. [I do not think that Sir Johnunderstands what he is writing about, though he does his best to appearas if he did. I have omitted a couple of incoherent paragraphs. ]. .. . 

Now, these two first _nights_ I think I understand, for he told me thatwhat he suffered during his whipping in the hall and the strife of hismind with the clerk were each a kind of symbol of them. But the third, which he called the _Night of the Soul_ I do not understand at all. [Itis remarkable that this phrase frequently occurs in the writings of St. John of the Cross, though he treats it differently. Until I came acrossit in this MS. I had always thought that the Spanish mystic was thefirst to use it. ] This only can I say of the state itself: that MasterRichard said that it was in a manner what our Lord suffered upon therood when he cried to His Father _Eloi, Eloi, etc. _

But I can tell you something of the signs of that affliction, as theyshewed themselves to Master Richard. Of the interior state of his soul Icannot even think without terror and confusion. Compared with thedarkness of it, the other _nights_, he said, are but as clouds acrossthe sun on a summer's day compared with a moonless midnight in winter. He had suffered a shadow of it before, when he was entering thecontemplative state, or the prefect Way of Union. Now it fell upon him. Before I tell you how it came, I must tell you that this _night_, as heexplained it, takes its occasion from some particular thought, and thethought from which it sprang you shall hear presently. 

When the clerk had left him, sighing, as I said, as if with a kindlyweariness (to encourage the other to call for him, I suppose), MasterRichard committed himself again to God and lay still. 

A fellow came in soon with his supper (for it was now growing dark), setit by him and went out. Master Richard took a little food, and after awhile, as his custom was after repeating the name of Jesu, began tothink on God, on the Blessed and Holy Trinity, and on His Attributes, numbering them one by one and giving thanks for each, and marking thecolour and place of each in the glory of the throne. He was too weary tosay vespers or compline, and presently he fell asleep, but whether itwas common sleep or not I do not know. 

In his sleep it seemed to him that he was walking along a path beneathtrees, as he had walked on his way to London; but it was twilight, andhe could not see clearly. There was none with him, and he was afraid, and did not know what he feared. He was afraid of what lay behind, andon all sides, and he was yet more afraid of what lay before him, but heknew that he could not stay nor turn. He went swiftly, he thought, andwith no sound, towards some appointed place, and the twilight darkenedas he went; when he looked up there was no star nor moon to be seen, andwhat had been branches when he set out seemed now to be a roof, so thickthey were. There was no bray of stag, nor rustle of breeze, nor cry ofnight-bird. He tried to pray, but he could remember no prayer, and noteven the healthful name of _Jesu_ came to his mind. He could do noughtbut look outwards with his straining eyes, and inwards at his soul; andthe one was now as dark as the other. He thought of me then, mychildren, and longed to have me there, but he knew that I was asleep inmy bed and far away. He thought of his mother whom he had loved so much, but he knew that she was gone to God and had left him alone. And still, through all, his feet bore him on swiftly without sound or fatigue, though the terror and the darkness were now black as ink. He felt hishair rising upon his head, and his skin prickle, and the warmth wasaltogether gone from his heart, but he could not stay. 

And at the last his feet ceased to move, and he stood still, knowingthat he was come to the place. 

Now, I do not understand what he said to me of that place. He told methat he could see nothing; it was as if his eyes were put out, yet heknew what it was like. 

It was a little round place in the forest, with trees standing about it, and it was trampled hard with the footsteps of those who had come therebefore him. But that was no comfort to him now; for he did not know howthese persons had fared, nor where were their souls. 

So he stood in the black darkness, knowing that he could not turn, withthe horror on him so heavy that he sweated as he told me of it, and withthe knowledge that something was approaching under the trees withoutsound of step or breathing--he did not know whether it was man or beastor fiend, he only knew that it was approaching. Yet he could not pray orcry out. 

Then he was aware that it had entered the little space where he stood, and was even now within a hand's grasp. Yet he could not lift his handsto ward it off, or to pray to God, or to bless himself. 

Then he perceived that the thing--_negotium perambulans in tenebris_["the Business that walketh about in the dark" (Ps. Xc. 6. )]--wasformless, without hands to strike or mouth to bite him with, and that itwas all about him now, closing upon him. If there had been aught totouch his body, wet lips to kiss his face, or fiery eyes to look intohis own, he would not have feared it with a thousandth part of the fearthat he had. It was that there was no shape or face, and that it soughtnot his body but his soul. And when he understood that he gave a loudcry and awoke, and knew, as in a mystery, that it was no dream, butthat he was indeed come to the place that he had seen, and that this_negotium_ was at his soul's heart. [There is either an omission herein the translation of Sir John's original MS. , or else the transcriberhas dashed his pen down in horror, or sought to produce an impressionof it. ]. .. . 

I find it impossible, my children, to make you understand in what statehe was; he could not make even me understand. I can only set down alittle of what he said. 

First, he knew that he had lost God. It was not that there was no God, but that he had lost Him of his own fault and sin. He was aware that inall other places there was God and that the blessed reigned with Him, but not in the place where he was, nor in his heart. In all men thatever I have met there was a certain presence of God. As the apostle toldthe men of Athens, _Ipsius enim et genus suum_; ["For we are also Hisoffspring" (Acts xvii. 28. )] and, again, _Non longe est ab unoquoquenostrum_; ["He is not far from every one of us" (Acts xvii. 27. )] andagain, _In ipso vivimus, et movemur, et sumus_. ["In Him we live, andwe move, and we are" (Acts xvii. 28. )] I have not seen a man who hadnot this knowledge, though maybe some, such as Turks and pagans, maycall it by another name. But until death, I think, all men, whatevertheir sins or ignorance, live and move in God's Majesty. Hell, MasterRichard told me, is nothing less than the withdrawal of that presence, with other torments superadded, but this is chief. Master Richard toldme that that black fire of hell rages wherever God is not; and that theworm gnaws in all hearts that have lost Him, and know it to be by theirown fault--_maxima culpa_. ["the very great fault. "]

There be a few men in this world--the Son of God derelict is theirprince--who are called to this supreme torment while they yet live--ifindeed that man may be said to live who is without God--and of thiscompany Master Richard was now made one. 

It was with him now as he had dreamed. Where God is not, there can be nocommunion with man, for the only reason by which one perceives another'ssoul, or understands that it is the soul of a man and has a likeness tohis own, is that both are, in some measure, in God. If we were more holyand wise we should understand for ourselves that this is so, and see, too, why it is so, for He is eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf. [I do not understand this at all. I wonder whether Sir John did as hewrote it; I am quite sure that his flock did not. ]

For Master Richard, then, there was no other person in the world. Therewas that that fenced him from all living. Our Saviour Christ upon therood spoke to His Blessed Mother before His dereliction, but not againafterwards. There was no more that He might say to her, or to Hiscousin, John. 

This, then, was the state in which Master Richard lay--that_specialissimus_ of God Almighty, to whom the Divine Love and Majestywas as breath to his nostrils, meat to his mouth, and water to his body. I an say no more on that point. 

As to the fault by which it seemed that he had come to that state, itwas the most terrible of all sins, which is Presumption. Holy Churchsets before us Humility as the chief of virtues, to shew us thatPresumption is the chief of vices. A man may be an adulterer or amurderer or a sacrilegious person, and yet by Humility may find mercy. But a man may be chaste and stainless in all his works, and a worshipperof God, but without Humility he cannot come to glory. [Sir John proceedsin this strain for several pages, illustrating his point by the cases ofLucifer, Nabuchodonosor, Judas Iscariot, King Herod, and others. ]. .. . 

Now the matter in which it seemed to Master Richard that he had sinnedthe sin of Presumption was the old matter of the tidings he had borne tothe King. It was not that the tidings were false, for he knew them fortrue; but yet that he had been presumptuous in bearing them. It was asthough a stander-by had overheard tidings given by a king to hisservant, and had presumed to hear them himself, as it were Achimaas theson of Sadoc. [I supposed that this obscure reference is to 2 Kingsxviii. 19. ] And more than that, that he had presumed in thinking that hecould be such a man as our Lord would call to such an office. He had sethimself, it appeared, far above his fellows in even listening to ourSaviour's voice; he should rather have cried with saint Peter, _Exi a mequia homo peccator sum Domine_. ["Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Luke v. 8. )]

It was this sin that had driven him from God's Presence. Our Lord hadbestowed on him wonderful gifts of grace. He had visited him as Hevisits few others and had led him in the Way of Union, and he hadfollowed, triumphing in this, giving God the glory in words only, untilhe had fallen as it seemed from the height of presumption to the depthof despair, and lay here now, excluded from the Majesty that he desired. 

 * * * * *

Now, here is a very wonderful thing, and I know not if I can make itclear. 

You understand, my children, a little of what I heard from MasterRichard's lips--of what it was that he suffered. But although all thiswas upon him, he perceived afterwards, though not at the time, thatthere was something in him that had not yielded to the agony. His bodywas broken, and his mind amazed, and his soul obscured in this _Night_, yet there was one power more, that we name the Will (and that is thevery essence of man, by which he shall be judged), that had not yet sunkor cried out that it was so as the fiend suggested. 

There was within him, he perceived afterwards, a conflict withoutmovement. It was as when two men wrestle, their limbs are locked, theyare motionless, they appear to be at rest, but in truth they arestriving with might and main. 

So he remained all that night in this agony, not knowing that he didaught but suffer; he saw the light on the wall, and heard the cockscrow--at least he remembered these things afterwards. But his releasedid not come until the morning; and of that release, and its event, andhow it came about, I will now tell you. 

How Sir John went again to the cell: and of what he saw there

_Ecce audivimus eam in Ephrata: invenimus eam in campis silvae. _

Behold we have heard of it in Euphrata: we have found it in the fieldsof the wood. --_Ps. Cxxxi. 6. _

XII

It is strange to think that other men went about their business in thepalace, and knew nothing of what was passing. It is more strange thatthat morning I said mass in the country and did not faint for fear orsorrow. But it is always so, by God's loving-kindness, for no man couldbear to live if he knew all that was happening in the world at one time. [Sir John adds some trite reflections of an obvious character. ]. .. . 

There was a little heaviness upon me that morning, but I think no morethan there had been every day since Master Richard had left us. It wasnot until noon that a strange event happened to me. This day wasWednesday after Corpus Christi, the sixth day since he was gone. 

There was only one man that knew aught of what was passing in theinterior world, and that was the ankret in the cell against the abbey, but of that you shall hear in the proper place. 

Of what fell on that day I heard from an old priest whom I sawafterwards, and who was in the palace at that time. He was chaplain tomy lord cardinal and his name was. .. . 

He told me that very early in the morning my lord sent for him and toldhim that he would hold an examination of Master Richard that day afterdinner, to see if he should be put on his trial for bewitching the King. There were none who doubted that he had bewitched the King, for hisgrace had sat in a stupor for two days, ever since he had heard thetidings from the holy youth. He heard his masses each morning with afallen countenance, and took a little food in private, and slept in hisclothes sitting in his chair; and spoke to none, and, it seemed, heardnone. Though he had been always of a serious and quiet mind, loving topray and to hear preaching more than to talk, yet this was the first ofthose strange visitations of God that fell upon him so frequently in hislater years. Those then (and especially my lord cardinal) who now sawhim in such a state, did not doubt that there was sorcery in the matter, and that Master Richard was the sorcerer; for the tale of the QuinteEssence--of which at that time men knew nothing--and how that he couldnot say _paternoster_ when it was put to him;--all this was run aboutthe court like fire. 

But the tale of the clerk who went to him and sought to shake him, Iheard nothing of, save from Master Richard's own lips. None knew ofwhat had happened, and some afterwards thought that it was the fiend whowent to Master Richard, but some others that it was indeed one of theclerks of the court who had perhaps stolen the keys, and gone in to getcredit to himself by persuading Master Richard to confess that all was adelusion. For myself, I do not know what to think. [I suspect that SirJohn was inclined to think it was the devil, for at this point hediscusses at some length various cases in which Satan so acted. He seemsto imply that it was a peculiar and cynical pleasure to the Lord of Evilto disguise himself as an ecclesiastic. ]. .. . 

Now, old Master . .. Said mass before my lord cardinal at seven o'clock, and then went to his own chamber, but he was immediately sent for againto my lord, who appeared to be in a great agitation. My lord told himthat one had come from the ankret to bid him let Master Richard go, forthat it was not the young man who was afflicting the King, but GodAlmighty. 

"But he shall not play Pilate's wife with me, " said my lord in a greatfury, "I shall go through with this matter. See that you be with me, Master Priest, at noon, and we will see justice done. I doubt not thatthe young man must go for his trial. "

He told the clerk, too, that Master Blytchett was greatly concernedabout his grace, and that the court would be in an uproar if somewhatwere not done at once. He had sat three hours last night with . .. And. .. And . .. And . .. , [It would be interesting to know who were thesepersons. ] and they had all declared the same thing. But he said nothingof the whipping of Master Richard, and I truly believe that he knewnothing of it. 

So the hour for the questioning was fixed at noon, and the place to bein my lord cardinal's privy parlour. 

 * * * * *

Now that morning, as I told you, I was no more than usually heavy. Iremembered Master Richard's name before God upon the altar, and at teno'clock I went to dinner in the parsonage. It was a very bright hotday, and I had the windows wide, and listened to the bees that were verybusy in the garden. I remember that I wondered whether they knew aughtof my dear lad, for I hold that they are very near to God, more so thanperhaps any of His senseless creatures, and that is why Holy Church onEaster Eve says such wonderful things about them, and the work that theydo. [This refers to the _Exultet_ sung by the deacon in the Roman riteon Holy Saturday. ]

For they fashion first wax and then honey. It is the wax that in thechurch gives light and honour to God, and it is to the honey-comb thatGod's Word is compared by David. [Sir John continues in this strain fora page or two. ]. .. . 

It is not strange then that I thought about the bees, and the knowledgethat they have. 

After I had done dinner, I slept a little as my custom is, and the lastsound that I heard, and the first upon awaking, was the drone of thebees. When I awakened I thought that I would walk down to MasterRichard's house and see how all fared. So I took my staff and set out. 

It was very cool and dark in the wood, through which I had come up sixdays before walking in the summer night with the young man, and all wasvery quiet. I could hear only the hum of the flies, and, as I drewnearer, the running of the water over the stones of the road, where itcrosses it beside the little bridge. 

Then I came out beside the gate into the meadow, and my eyes weredazzled by the hot light of the sun after the darkness of the wood. 

I stood by the gate a good while, leaning my arms upon it (for I feltvery heavy and weary), and looking across the meadow yellow with flowersto the green hazels beyond, and between me and the wood the air shook asif in terror or joy, I knew not which. I could see, too, the open doorof the hut, and its domed roof of straw, and the wicket leaning againstthe wall as he had left it, and on either side the may-trees liftedtheir bright heads. 

My children, I am not ashamed to tell you that I could not see all thisvery clearly, for my eyes were dim at the thought that the master of itwas not here, and that I knew not where he was nor how he fared. Iprayed saint Giles with all my might that I might see him here again, and walk with him as I had walked so often. And then at the end, alittle after I had heard the _Angelus_ ring from over the wood, and hadsaluted our Lady and entreated her for Master Richard, I thought that Iwould go up and see the hut. 

As I went I perceived that here, too, the bees were busy in the noon ofthe day, going to and fro intently, but I was to see yet more of them, for I heard a great droning about me. At first I could not perceivewhence it came, but presently I saw a great ball of them gathering onthe doorway of the hut, as their custom is in summer-time. I wasastonished at that, I do not know why, but it seemed to me that beeswere all about me, _semitam meam et funiculum meum investigantes; omnesvias meas praevidentes. _ ["searching out my path and my line; foreseeingall my ways" (from Ps. Cxxxviii. 3, 4. )] Well, I looked on them awhile, but they seemed as if they would do me no harm, yet I did not wish to gointo the house while they hung there, so I was content with looking infrom where I stood. I could not see very much, my eyes were too wearywith the sunshine that beat on my head, and it was, perhaps, God'spurpose that I should not go in to see what I was not worthy to see. 

I had, too, something of fear in my heart; it was like the fear that Ihad had when I looked on Master Richard six days before as he prayed. SoI stood a little distance from the door and observed it and the bees. Ofthe inside of the but I could see no more than the beaten mud floor fora little space within, and through the veil of bees that swung this wayand that working their mysteries, the green light of the window lookingupon the hazel wood, above which was the image of the Mother of God. 

Then on a sudden my fear came on me strongly, and I cried out what Ithink was Master Richard's name for I thought that he was near me, butthere was no answer, and after I had looked a little more, I turned backby the way I had come. 

Now, here, my children, happened a marvellous thing. 

When I reached the gate and had gone through it, I turned round againtowards the hut, ashamed of the terror that had lain on me as I walkeddown, for I had walked like one in a nightmare, not daring to turn myhead. 

And as I turned, for one instant I saw Master Richard himself, in hisbrown kirtle and white sleeves standing at the door of his hut, with hisarms out as if to stretch himself, or else as our Saviour stretched themon the rood. I could not observe his face, for in an instant he wasgone, before I had time to see him clearly, but I am sure that his facewas merry, for it was at this hour that he found his release before mylord cardinal, and cried out, as you shall hear in the proper place. 

I stood there a long while, stretching out my own hands and crying onhim by name, but there was no more to be seen but the hut and its opendoor, and the may-trees on either side, and the wood behind, and theyellow-flowered meadow before me, and no sound but the drone of the beesand the running of the water. And I dared not go up again, or set footin the meadow. 

 * * * * *

So I went home again, and told no man, for I thought that the vision wasfor myself alone, and as night fell the messenger came to bid me come totown, and to deliver to me the letter from the old priest of whom I havespoken. 

How one came to Master Priest: how Master Priest came to the King'sBedchamber: and of what he heard of the name of Jesus

_Dum anxiaretur cor meum: in petra exaltasti me. _

When my heart was in anguish: Thou hast exalted me on a rock. --_Ps. Lx. 3. _

XIII

This was the letter that I read in my parlour that night, as the man inhis livery stood beside me, dusty with riding. I have it still (it is inthe mass-book that stands beside my desk; you can find it there after Iam gone to give my account. ). .. . 

"REVEREND AND RIGHT WORSHIPFUL SIR JOHN CHALDFIELD, --

"There is a young man here named Master Richard Raynal, who tells usthat you are his friend. He desires to see you before his death, for hehas been set upon and will not live many days. His grace has orderedthat you shall be brought with speed, for he loves this young man andcounts him a servant of God. He is with Master Raynal as I write. I fearthis may be heavy news for you, Sir John, so I will write no more, but Irecommend myself to you, and pray that you may be comforted and speededhere by the grace of God, which ever have you in His keeping. 

"Written at Westminster, the Wednesday after Corpus Xti. 

 "Yours, ". .. .. .. "

I asked the fellow who brought the letter whether he could tell me anymore, but all that he could say was that he was in the court outside mylord cardinal's privy stairs--where the people were assembled to seeMaster Richard come out, and that he had seen a confusion, and blowsstruck, and the glaivemen run in to help him. Then he had seen no more, but he thought Master Richard had been taken back again to the palace, and heard that he had been sore wounded and beaten, and was not like tolive. 

 * * * * *

I will not tell you, my children, of my ride to London that night, savethat I do not think I ceased praying from the instant that I set out tothe instant when I came up as the dawn began behind Lambeth House, andwe went over in the ferry. I cried in my heart with David, _Fili mi, Fili mi; quis mihi tribuat ut ego moriar pro te, fili mi, fili mi?_["My son, my son! Who would grant that I might die for thee, my son, myson?"--2 Kings xviii. 33. ] And I prayed two things--that God mightforgive me for having allowed the lad to go, and that I might find himalive. More than that I dared not pray, and I know not even now if Ishould have prayed the first. 

It was a wonderful dawn that I saw as I crossed over, with a mist comingup from the water as a promise of great heat, and above it the highroofs and towers like the lovely city of God, and over all the sky wasof a golden colour with lines of pearl across it. It comforted me alittle that I should come to Master Richard so. 

Even at that hour there were many awake. There was one great fellow bythe ferry, that was looking across towards the palace; and I think itmust have been he who had taken Master Richard over for love of saintGiles and saint Denis, but I did not know that part of the tale at thattime, and I never saw him again. 

In the court and passages, too, that we went along there were personsgoing to and fro. One told me afterwards that never had he seen such amovement at that hour since the night that the King's mother died. Theywere all waiting for tidings of the lad, and they eyed me very narrowly, and I heard my name run before me as I went. 

At the last we came to a great door, and we were let through, and I wasin the King's bed-chamber. 

It was a quiet room, and I will describe it to you now, although I sawlittle of it at that time. 

 * * * * *

In the centre, with its head against the wall, stood a tall bed, with acanopy over it, and four posts of twisted wood, carved very cunninglywith little shields that bore the instruments of our Saviour's passion. On the tapestry beneath the canopy, above the pillow, were the arms ofthe King, wrought in blue and red and gold. The hangings on the wallswere all of a dark blue, wrought with devices of all kinds, and theywere hanged from a ledge of wood beneath the ceiling such as I havenever seen before or since. The ceiling was of painted wood, dividedinto deep squares, and in the centre of each was a coat. The floor wasall over rushes, the cleanest and the most fragrant that I have eversmelled. I think that there must have been herbs and bay leaves mixedwith them. 

I saw all this afterwards, for when I came in the curtains were alldrawn against the windows, save against one that let in the cool airfrom the river and a little pale light of morning, and two candlesburned on a table beside the bed. The room was very dark, but I couldsee that a dozen persons stood against the walls, and one by every door. 

But I had no eyes for them, and went quickly across the rushes, and as Icame round the foot of the bed, I heard my name whispered again, and theKing stood up from where he had been kneeling. 

I have already described to you his appearance at that time, so I willsay no more here than that he was in all his clothes which were a littledisordered, and that his head was bare. He had been weeping, too, forhis eyes were red and swollen, and his lips shook as he put out hishand. But he could not speak. 

I kneeled down and kissed his hand quickly and stood up immediately. Master Richard who was lying on his left side, turned away from me, sothat I could not see his face, but I knew he was not yet dead, else hewould have been laid upon his back, but he was as still as death. Hishead was all in a bandage, except on this side where his long hair hungacross his cheek, and his bare arm lay across the rich coverlet, brownto the elbow with his digging, and white as milk at the shoulder. 

When I saw that I kneeled down too, and hid my face in my hands, andalthough I felt the King lay his fingers on my shoulder I could not lookup. But it was not all for sorrow that I wept; I was thanking GodAlmighty who permitted me to see Master Richard alive once more. 

I do not know how long it was before I looked up, but all the folkswere gone from the room save the King, and Master Blytchett, thephysician, who sat on the other side of the bed. 

I went round presently to the other side, the King going with me, andthere I saw Master Richard's face. I cannot tell you all that I saw init, for there are no words that can tell of its peace; his eyes wereclosed below the little healed scar that he had taken in the monastery, and his lips were open and smiling; they moved two or three times as Ilooked, as if he were talking with some man, and then they ceased andsmiled again. But all was very little, as if the soul were far down insome secret chamber with company that it loved. 

I asked presently if he had received his Maker, and the King told meYes, and shrift too, and anointing--all the night before when he hadcome to himself for a while and called for a priest. He had spoken myname, too, at that time and they had told him that one was gone tobring me and at that he seemed content. 

Master Blytchett told me soon that I could be gone for a while, to takesome meat, and that he would send for me if Master Richard awoke. But Isaid No to that; until the King bade me go, saying that he, too, wouldremain, and pledging his word that I should be called. 

So I went away into a parlour, and washed myself, and took some food, and after a while the old clerk that had written the letter to me, camein and saluted me. 

I was desirous to know how all had come about, so we sat there a greatwhile in the window seat, with the door a little open into thebed-chamber, and he told me the tale. I did not speak one word till hehad done. 

This was how it came about. 

 * * * * *

Master Richard was sent for from his cell to the parlour of my lordcardinal, but my lord was not ready for him, and he had to stand agreat while in the court to wait his pleasure. The rumour ran about asto who it was, and a great number of persons assembled from all parts, some from the palace, and some from the streets. These had so cried outagainst the young man, that the billmen were sent for from theguard-room to keep him from their violence. This priest had looked outfrom a window at the noise, and seeing the crowd, had entreated my lordto have the prisoner in without any more delay. So he was brought in, and one was left to keep the little door that led to the privy stairs upwhich he came. 

It was then that this priest had seen him face to face, and I will tryto write down his words as he told them me. 

"I came into the parlour, " he said, "through the door behind my lord'schair, as Master Raynal was brought in by the other door. 

"I have never seen such a sight, Sir John, as I saw then. He was in hiswhite kirtle only, with the five wounds upon his breast, and he had onhis sandals. But his face was as that of a dead man: his eyelids weresunk upon his cheek, and his lips hung open so that I could see his bareteeth. 

"There were two men who led him by the arms, and he would have fallenbut for their assistance, and I immediately whispered to my lord to lethim sit down. But my lord was busy and anxious at that time, for he hadbut just come from the King, who was no better and would take no meatnor speak at all. So he paid no heed to me, and presently began to askquestions of Master Raynal, urging him to confess what it was that hehad done, and threatening him with this and that if he would not speak. 

"But Master Raynal did not speak or lift his eyes; it seemed as if hedid not hear one word. 

"My lord told him presently that if temporal pains did not move him, perhaps, it was that he desired spiritual--for my lord was very angry, and scarce knew what he was saying. But Master Richard made no answer. I will tell you, Sir John, plainly, that I thought he was but a fool toanger my lord so by his silence, for it could not be that he did nothear: my lord bawled loud enough to awaken the dead, and I saw the folkbehind, some laughing and some grave. 

"It would be full half an hour after noon before my lord had done hisquestions, and lay back in his chair wrathful at getting no answer, though the men that held Master Raynal shook him from side to side. 

"Then it was that the end came. 

"I was observing Master Raynal very closely, wondering whether he weremad or deaf, and on a sudden he lifted his eyes, and his lips closed. Heappeared to be looking at my lord, but it was another that he saw. 

"I cannot describe to you, Sir John, what that change was that came tohim, save by saying that I think Lazarus must have looked like that, ashe heard our Saviour Christ's voice calling to him as he lay in thetomb. It was no longer the face of a dead man, but of a living one, andas that change came, I perceived that my lord cardinal had raisedhimself in his chair, and was staring, I suppose, at the young man too. But I could not take my eyes off Master Raynal's face. 

"Then on a sudden Master Raynal smiled and drew a great breath and criedout. It was but one word; it was the holy Name of JESUS. 

"I perceived immediately that my lord cardinal had stood up at that cry, but then he sat down again, and he made a motion with his hand, and themen that held Master Raynal wheeled him about, and they went through thecrowd towards the door. 

"My lord cardinal turned to me, and I have never seen him so moved, butstill he could not speak, and while we looked upon one another there wasa great uproar everywhere--in the court and in the palace. 

"I stood there, not knowing what to do, and my lord pushed past to thewindow. He, too, cried out as he looked down, and then ran from theroom, and as I was following there broke in one by the door behind thechair. 

"'Where is my lord cardinal?' he cried; 'The King has sent for him. '

"Well, the end of the matter was that they brought Master Raynal backagain, wounded and battered near to death. The crowd that had beenattendant for him had set on him as he came out--they should have sentmore bill-men before to keep the road, and the King met him in the way(for he had come to his senses again), and turned as white as ashes oncemore, crying out that his own craven heart had slain one more [If thisking was Henry VI, the reference may be to Joan of Arc. But Henry wasonly a child at the time of her death. At the best this can be onlyconjecture. ] servant of God, but I know not what he meant by that. Master Raynal was taken to the King's bed-chamber, and my lord cameafter. And the King has been with him, praying and moaning ever since. "

Then I put one question to the priest. 

"My lord cardinal?" I said. 

"No man but the King has seen my lord cardinal since yesterday. "

 * * * * *

We sat a while longer in silence, and then Master Blytchett came in tosee me. 

Of Sir John's Meditations in Westminster Palace

_Et existimabam cognoscere hoc: labor est ante me_

And I desired that I might know this thing: labour in my sight. -_Ps. Lxxii. 16. _

XIV

Master Blytchett told me that Master Richard was still asleep. He hadblooded him last night, and reduced the fever, but God only could savehis life. For himself, he thought that the young man would die beforenight, and he did not know whether he would speak again. 

I was drawn towards Master Blytchett; he seemed a sour fellow withsweetness beneath; and I love such souls as that. I loved him more thanI did the King either at that time or afterward. The King appeared to meat that time a foolish fellow--God forgive me!--for I had not then heardwhat Master Richard had to say of him; nor that such opinion was to beall part of his passion. 

I thanked Master Blytchett for what he had done for my lad; but he burstout upon me. 

"I was all against him, " he said, "at the beginning. I thought him acrack-brained fool, and a meddler. But now--" And he would say no more. 

It seemed that many were like that at the Court. They were near allagainst him at first; but when they knew that he was wounded to death;and had heard what the King had said of him; and seen my lord cardinal'srosy face running with tears of pity and anger as he tore the lad out oftheir hands; and gossipped a little with the porter of the monastery;and listened to the holy ankret roaring out in his cell againstHierusalem that slew the prophets;--and, most of all, remembered, ortold one another of Master Richard's face as he came out from the privystaircase before he was struck down--like the Melitenses--_convertentesse dicebant eum esse deum_. ["Changing their minds, they said he wasa god" (Acts xxviii. 6. )]

 * * * * *

I talked with many that morning (for I could do nothing for my lad), whocame in to see one who knew him so well, and had been his friend in thecountry. 

And after dinner my lord cardinal came in to see me, and I was broughtback to the parlour. 

His ruddy face was all blotched and lined with sorrow or age, and for awhile he could say nothing. He went up and down with his sanguine robesflying behind him, and stayed to look out of the window at the boatsthat went by until I thought that he had forgotten me. And at the lasthe spoke. 

"I do not know what to say to you, Sir John, or what to say to GodAlmighty on this matter. It appears to me that we have all been blindand deaf adders, and with the venom of adders, too, beneath ourtongues--except one or two rude fellows, and my lord King who knew himfor a prophet, and the ankret, who tells us we shall all be damned forwhat we have done, and yourself. There be so many of these wild assesthat bray and kick, that when he came we did not distinguish him to bethe colt on which our Lord came to town--and now, as it was then, _Dominus eum necessarium habet_. " ["The Lord hath need of him" (Lukexix. 34. )]

"But I know what I wish to be said to him, though I dare not say itmyself, or set eyes on him--and that is that I pray him to forgive us, and to speak our names before the Lord God when he comes before HisMajesty. "

"I will tell him that, my lord, " I said softly, for I did not doubt thatMaster Richard would speak before he died. 

After a while longer my lord cardinal asked how he did, and I told himthat he had lain very quiet all day without speaking or moving, andthen, for I knew what my lord wanted, I bade him in Jesu's name to comein and look on him. For a while he would not, and then he came, andknelt down beside the King. 

Master Richard was lying now upon his back, with his hands hidden andclasped upon his breast, and his lips were moving a little withoutsound. I think that he had never had so long and so heavenly a colloquyas he was enjoying then. I do not know whether it were the cardinal'spresence that disturbed him, or whether in that secret place where hissoul was retired he heard what had been said by us, but he spoke aloudfor the first time that day, and this is what he said:--

"_Et dimitte nobis debita nostra; sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribusnostris. _" ["And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them thattrespass against us. "]

I saw my lord's face go down upon his hands, and the King's face riseand look at him. And presently my lord went out. 

 * * * * *

I cannot tell you, my children, how that day passed, for it was like noday that I have ever spent. It appeared to me that there was no time, but that all stood still. Without, the palace was as still as death onthe one side--for the King had ordered it so--and on the other there wasthe noise from the river, little and clear and distinct, of the waterwashing in the sedges and against the stones, and the cries of theboatmen on the further shore, and the rattle of their oars as they tookmen across. 

Once, as I stood by the window saying my office, a boat went by withfolk talking in it, and I heard enough of what they said to know thatthey were speaking of Master Richard, and I heard one telling the taleto another, and saw him point to the windows of the palace. But whenthey saw me look out they gave over talking. 

A little after the evening bell Master Blytchett took the King out tohis supper, and I was left alone with Master Richard, but I knew thatthere were servants in the passage whom I might call if I needed them. 

So I sat down by the pillow and looked at him a great while. 

I will tell you, my children, something of what I thought at this time, for it is at such times when the eyes are washed clean by tears that thesoul looks out upon truth and sees it as it is. [I have omitted a greatnumber of Sir John's reflections. Many of them are too trite even forthis work, and others are so much confused that it is useless totranscribe them. Sir John seems to have been dearly fond of sermonizing. Even these that I have retained and set within brackets can be omittedin reading by those who prefer to supply their own comment. ]. .. . 

 * * * * *

{I thought of the _ironia_ that marks our Lord's dealings. MasterRichard had come to bring tidings of another's passion, and he found hisown in the bringing of it. It was as when children play at the hangingof a murderer or a thief, and one is set to play the part of prisonerand another to hang him, and then at the end when all is prepared theyturn upon the hangman and bid him prepare himself for whipping and deathinstead of the other, or maybe both are to be hanged. But our Lord isnot cruel, like such children, but kind, and I think that He acts so toshew us that life is nothing but a play and a pretence, and that Hiswill must be done, however much we rebel at it. He teaches us, too, thatthe blows we receive and even death itself are only seeming, though theyhurt us at the time, but that we must play in a gallant and merryspirit, and be tender, too, and forgive one another easily, and that Hewill set all right and allot to each his reward at the end of theplaying. And, since it is but a play, we are none of us kings orcardinals or poor men in reality; we are all of us mere children of ourFather, and upon one is set a crown for a jest, and another is robed insanguine, and another in a brown kirtle or a white; and at the end thetrinkets are all put back again in the press, ready for another day andother children, and we all go to bed as God made us. 

But you must not think, my children, that our life is a little thingbecause of this; I only mean that one thing is as little and as great asanother, and that maids maying in the country are as much about God'sbusiness as kings and cardinals who strive in palaces, and who give tothis man a collar of Saint Spirit, and to that man a collar of hemp. Itwas for this reason, maybe, that our Lord did all things when He wasupon earth. He rode upon His colt as a King; He reigned upon the rood;He sat at meat with sinners; He wrought tables and chairs at thecarpenter's; He fashioned sparrows, as some relate, out of clay, andmade them fly; and He said that not a sparrow falls without His love andintention; and He did all and said all in the same spirit and mind, andat the end He smiled and put on His crown again, and sat down for ever_ad dexteram Dei_, that He might let us do the same, and help us by Hisgrace, especially in the sacraments, to be merry and confident. [This isa very puzzling philosophy. It is surely either very profound or veryshallow. But it certainly is not cynical. Sir John is incapable of sucha feeble emotion as that. ]. .. . 

 * * * * *

This then, too, I thought at that time. 

It is marvellous how our Lord sets His seal upon all that we do, if wewill but attend to His working, and not think too highly upon what we doourselves. He had caused Master Richard to wear His five wounds until heloved them, and to set his meat, too, in their order, and then He hadbidden His servant tell him that he did not need the piece of linen, forthat he should bear the wounds upon his body. And this He fulfilled;for, as Master Blytchett told me, there were neither more nor less thanfive wounds upon the young man's body, which he had received from thecrowd that set on him, besides the bruises and the stripes. He hadcaused Master Richard, too, to be haled from judge to judge, as Himselfwas haled; to be deemed Master by some, and named fool by others; to beborne in a boat by one who loved him; to be arrayed in a white robe tobe judged without justice; to be dumb _sicut ovis ad occisionem . .. Etquasi agnus coram tondente se_ ["as a sheep to the slaughter . .. As alamb before his shearer" (Is. Liii. 7. )], with many other points andmarks, besides that which fell afterwards, when a rich man, like him ofArimathy, cared for his burying, and strewed herbs and bay leaves andmyrtle upon his body. 

There was the matter, too, of the bees that I had seen. [Sir John laysgreat stress upon the bees; I cannot understand why. He says that theybetokened great wealth and happiness. ]. .. . 

 * * * * *

And again there was the matter of the seven days that Master Richardfulfilled from the time of his setting out from his house, to the timethat he entered into his heavenly mansion. Seven days are the time ofperfection; it was in seven days that God Almighty made the world andall that is in it; there were seven years of famine in Egypt in whichJoseph gathered store, and seven years of plenty. [I cannot bring myselfto follow Sir John through the whole of the Old and New Testaments. ]. .. . And it was in seven days that Master Richard Raynal completed his course, from the sowing of the wheat and wine on Corpus Xti, to his joyfulharvest in heaven. .. . }

 * * * * *

I thought, too, at this time of many other things, such as you maysuppose--of Master Richard's little cell in the country which wouldnever see him again (for I did not know at this time what the Kingintended of his grace), and of the beasts that awaited him solamentably, and then of this great room hung all over with royaltywhither it had pleased God that his darling should come to die. Ilooked, too, very often upon Master Richard as he lay before me, uponhis clean pallour, paler than I had ever seen it, and his slenderfingers roughened by the spade, and his strong arm, and his smilinglips, and his closed eyes that looked within upon what I was not worthyto see, and I wondered often what it was that he was saying to our Lordand the blessed, and what they were saying to him, and I prayed that myname might be mentioned amongst them, lest I should be a castaway afterall that I had heard and seen. 

When it was dark (for I dared not kindle the candles) the King came inagain, and as he came in Master Richard spoke my name, and moved hishand towards me on the coverlet. 

How Master Richard went to God

_Transivimus per ignem et aquam: et eduxisti nos in refrigerium. _

We have passed through fire and water: and Thou hast brought us out intoa refreshment. --_Ps. Lxv. 12. _

XV

The King presently kissed Master Richard's hand and asked his pardon andhis prayers, saying that he had known nothing of what went forwardduring those two days, until the crying of Jesus' name by Master Richardbefore the cardinal, but blaming his own craven heart, as he called it. 

And when Master Richard had spoken awhile, he asked the King to go out, for that he had much to say to me in secret. 

So the King went out very softly, and set other guards at the doors, and we two sat there a long while. 

 * * * * *

I was astonished at Master Richard's strength and courage, for he hadspoken aloud to the King, but when the King was gone out, he spoke in alower voice, holding my hand. It was very dark, for he would have nolights, and I could see no more of him but a little of his hair, and thepallour of his face beneath it, until the morn came and the end came. 

 * * * * *

He told me first of what he had done, and what had been done to himsince a week ago, when we had kissed one another at the lych-gate--allas I have told it to you. He talked quietly, as I have said, but helaughed a little now and again, and once or twice his voice trembledwith tears as he related our Lord's loving-kindness to him. (I havenever known any man who loved Jesu Christ more than this man loved Him. )

I asked him a few questions, and he answered them, but the effect ofall that he said was what I have written down here, and sometimes I havehis very words as he spoke them. 

At last he came to the end of what he had to say, and began to tell meof the _Night of the Soul_, and here he talked in a very low voice sothat I could scarcely hear what he said, and of what he said I did notunderstand one half, [I am thankful that Sir John recognized his ownlimitations. ] for it was full of mysteries such as other contemplativesouls alone would recognise--for all contemplatives, as you know, relatethe same things to one another which they have seen and heard, and thewords that each uses the other understands, but other men do not; forthey speak of things that they have seen indeed, but for which there areno proper human words, so that they have to do the best that they can. 

He told me that the state that I have described to you continued untilhe came before my lord cardinal, so that although he saw men's facesand heard their words they were no more to him than shadows andwhisperings; for since (as it appeared to him) he had lost God by hisown fault there was no longer anything by which he might communicatewith man. 

Yet all this while there was the conflict of which I have spoken. Therewas that in him, which we name the Will, which continued tense andstrong, striving against despair. Neither his mind nor his heart couldhelp him in that _Night_; his mind informed him that he had sinneddeadly by presumption, his heart found nowhere God to love; and allthat, though he told himself that God was loveable, and adorable, andthat he could not fall into hell save by his own purpose and intention. 

Yet, in spite of all, and when all had failed him, his will stroveagainst despair (which is the antichrist of humility [A curious phrase, and, I think, rather a good one. I suspect it was originally MasterRichard's. ]), though he did not recognise until afterwards that he wasstriving, for he thought himself lost, as I have said. 

Then a little after noon, at the time when I saw his image at the doorof his cell, stretching himself as if after labour or sleep, he had hisrelease. 

Now this is the one matter of which he did not tell me fully, nor wouldhe answer when I asked him except by the words, "_Secretum meum mihi_. "["My secret is mine. "] But this I know, that he saw our Lord. 

And this I know, too, that with that sight his understanding came backto him, and he perceived for himself that Charity was all. He perceived, also, that he had been striving, and amiss. He had striven to bear hisown sins, and for those few hours our Lord had permitted him to bear theweight. He who bears heaven and earth upon His shoulders, and who borethe burden of the sins of the world in the garden and upon the rood, hadallowed this sweet soul to feel the weight of his own few little sinsfor those few hours. 

When he saw that he made haste to cast them off again upon Him who alonecan carry them and live, and to cry upon His Name; and he understood inthat moment, he said, as never before, something of that passion and ofthe meaning of those five wounds that he had adored so long inignorance. 

But what it was that he saw, and how it was that our Lord shewedHimself, whether on the rood, or as a child with the world in His hands, or as crowned with sharp-thorned roses, or who was with Him, if anywere; I do not know. It was then that he said "_Secretum mihi. _" Andwhen Master Richard had said that, he added "_Vere languores nostrosipse tulit; et dolores nostros ipse portavit. _" ["Surely He hath borneour infirmities, and carried our sorrows" (Is. Liii. 4. )]

 * * * * *

He lay silent a good while after that, and I did not speak to him. Whenhe spoke again, it was to bring to my mind the masses that were to besaid, and then he spoke of the Quinte Essence, and said that it was tobe mine if I wished for it; and all other things of his were to be mineto do as I pleased with them, for he had no kin in the world. 

And after he had spoken of these things the King came in timidly fromthe parlour, and stood by the door; I could see the pallour of his faceagainst the hangings. 

"Come in, my lord King, " said Master Richard very faintly. "I have donewhat was to be done, and there now is nothing but to make an end. "

The King knelt down at the further side of the bed. 

"Is it the priest you want, Master Hermit?" he asked. 

"Sir John will read the prayers presently, " said Master Richard. 

I heard the King swallow in his throat before he spoke again. 

"And you will remember us all, " he said, "before God's Majesty, and inparticular my poor soul in its passion. "

"How could I forget that?" asked Master Richard, and by his voice I knewthat he laughed merrily to himself. 

I asked him whether he would have lights. 

"No, my father, " he said, "there will be light enough. "

 * * * * *

It would be an hour later, I should suppose, after Master Blytchett wascome back, when he put out his hand again, and I knew that he wished forthe prayers. 

Now there was only starlight, for he would have no candles, and the moonwas not yet risen. So I went across to the parlour door, and as I wentthrough I could see that the chamber was full of persons all silent, butit was too dark to see who they were. I asked one for a candle, andpresently one was brought, and I saw that my lord cardinal was there, and . .. And . .. [The names are omitted as usual. This discreet scribe isvery tiresome. ] and many others. It was such a death-bed as a king might have. 

So I read the appointed prayers, kneeling on my knees in the doorway, and I was answered by those behind me. 

When I had done that, I stood up to go back, and my lord cardinal caughtme by the sleeve. 

"For the love of Jesu, " he said, "ask if we may come in. "

I went back and leaned over Master Richard, taking his hand in my own. 

"My lord and the rest desire to come in, my son, " I said. "If they maycome, press my hand. "

He pressed my hand, and I spoke in a low voice, bidding them to come in. 

So they came in noiselessly, one after another; I could see their facesmoving, but no more--my lord cardinal and the great nobles and thegrooms and the rest--till the room was half full of them. 

The door was put to behind them, but I could see the line of light thatshewed it, where the candle burned in the parlour beyond; and I couldhear the sound of their breathing and the rustle once and again of theirfeet upon the rushes. 

Then I knelt down, when the others had knelt, and waited for the agonyto begin, when I should begin the last commendation. 

My children, I have prayed by many death-beds, but I have never seen onelike this. 

The curtains were wide, and the windows, behind me, that he might havebreath to send out his spirit; and without, as I saw when I turned tokneel, the heavens were bright with stars. This was all the light thatwas in the room; it was no more than dark twilight, and I could see nomore of him than what I saw before, the glimmer of his face upon thepillow and his long hair beside it. His fingers were in mine, but theywere very cold by now. 

But he had said that there would be light enough, and so there was. 

It may have been half an hour afterwards that the room began to lightensoftly, as the sky brightened at moonrise, and I could see a little moreplainly. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be breathing very softlythrough his lips. 

Then the moon rose, and the light lay upon the floor at my side. Then alittle after it was upon the fringes of the coverlet, and it crept upmoment by moment across the leopards and lilies that were broidered ingold and blue. 

At last it lay half across the bed, and I could see the King's face verypale and melancholy upon the other side, and Master Blytchett a littlebehind him. 

And presently it reached Master Richard's hand and my own that laytogether, but my arm was so numbed that I could feel nothing in it; Icould see only that his fingers were in mine. 

So the light crept up his arm to the shoulder, and when it reached hisface we saw that he was gone to his reward. 

Of his Burying

_Quam dilecta tabernacula tua: Domine virtutum. _

How lovely are Thy tabernacles: O Lord ofHosts. --_Ps. Lxxxiii. 1. _

XVI

It was upon the next day that we tookMaster Richard's body down again to thecountry, and there was such an attendantcompany as I should not have thought thatall London held. 

The King had ordered a great plenty oftapers and hangings and a herse such as isused. .. . 

[The MS. Ends abruptly at the foot of the page. ]