“Impossible!”
“Hear me, my son!——Is not death a horrible precipice to the view of human creatures?”
“Assuredly,” said I——“the most horrible: human laws declare that, by resorting to it for punishment, as the ultimatum of all terrible inflictions.”
“When, then,” said he, “covered as we are with misery, to leave this world is so insupportable to the human reflection, what must it be if we had nothing but joy and felicity to taste of in this life? Mark me, child!” said he, with an animated zeal that gave an expression to his countenance beyond any thing I had ever seen: “the miseries, the calamities, the heart-rendings, and the tears, which are so intimately interwoven by the great Artist in our natures as not to be separated in a single instance, are in the first place our security of a future state, and in the next place serve to slope the way before us, and, by gradual operation, fit our minds for viewing, with some sort of fortitude, that hideous chasm that lies between us and that state——death. View those miseries, then, as special acts of mercy and commiseration of a beneficient Creator, who, with every calamity, melts away a link of that earthly chain that fetters our wishes to this dismal world. Accept his blessings and his goods, when he sends them, with gratitude and enjoyment: receive his afflictions, too, with as joyous acceptance, and as hearty gratitude. Thus, and not otherwise, you will realize all your Utopian flights of desire, by turning every thing to matter of comfort, and living contented with dispensations which you cannot alter, and, if you could, would most certainly alter for the worse.”[worse.”]
I sat absorbed in reflection——The Friar, after some pause, proceeded——
“Errors arising from virtuous dispositions and the love of our fellow-creatures, take their complexion from their parent motives, and are virtuous. Your wishes, therefore, my son! though erroneous, merit reward, and, I trust, will receive it from that Being who sees the recesses of the heart; and if the truths I have told you have not failed to make their way to your understanding, let your adventure of to-day impress this undeniable maxim on your mind——so limited is Man, so imperfect in his nature, that the extent of his virtue borders on vice, and the extent of his wisdom on error.”
I thought he was inspired; and, just as he got to the last period, every organ of mine was opened to take in his words.
“’Tis well, my son!” said he——“I perceive you like my doctrine: then (changing his manner of speaking, his expressive countenance the whole time almost anticipating his whole words) take some more of it,” said he gaily, pouring out a fresh glass. I pleaded the fear of inebriety——“Fear not,” said he; “the beer of this Convent never hurts the intellect.”
Our conversation continued till near dinner-time; for I was so delighted, I scarcely knew how to snatch myself away: such a happy melange of piety and pleasantry, grave wisdom and humour, I had never met. At length, the Convent-bell tolling, I rose: he took me by the hand, and, in a tone of the most complacent admonition, said, “Remember, my child! as long as you live, remember the Convent of the Carmelites; and in the innumerable evils that certainly await you if you are to live long, the words you have heard from old Friar Augustine will afford you comfort.”
“Father!” returned I, “be assured I carry away from you a token that will never suffer me to forget the hospitality, the advice or the politeness of the good father Augustine. Poor as I am in natural means, I can make no other return than my good wishes, nor leave any impression behind me: but as my esteem for you, and perhaps my vanity, make me wish not to be forgotten, accept this, (a seal ring, with a device in hair, which I happened to have on my finger); and whenever you look at it, let it remind you of one of those, I dare say innumerable, instances, in which you have contributed to the happiness and improvement of your fellow-creatures.”