HOW THE CARTHUSIANS ACQUIRED AN ELIGIBLE SITE.
The order of Carthusian monks had the credit of having, the most strictly of all the orders, adhered to its rules for some six hundred years. One of the rules, that each monk was to be bled five times a year—which modern science, however, shuns—must have been founded on some misapprehension. The astute manner in which this order acquired a gift of land in Paris has been recorded as follows: St. Louis had given the order a house at Paris, from the windows of which they saw another more extensive and convenient mansion and site in the neighbourhood. Soon afterwards this house opposite was found to be haunted by spirits and goblins, which made a great noise in the night, rattling their chains, and sending forth the most horrid yells and groans. Amongst other hideous things a green monster appeared every night, with a large white beard, half man and half serpent, terrifying all the passengers and neighbourhood. What was to be done with this intolerable nuisance? The pious monarch gave the house to the Carthusians, after which no more noises were heard and no more spectres appeared; but the street in which the house was situated was long known as Hell-fire Street, which name it bore in St. Foix’s time.
LUTHER SOFTENED AT REVISITING HIS OLD CONVENT.
It is related by Audin, in his Life of Luther, that on the eve of Palm Sunday Luther arrived at Erfurth and descended at the convent of the Augustines, where a few years before he had taken the habit. It was nightfall; a little wooden cross over the tomb of a brother whom he had known, and who had lately departed sweetly to the Lord, struck his attention and troubled his soul. He was himself no longer the poor friar travelling on foot and begging his bread. His power equalled that of Charles V., and all men had their eyes on him. That morning, on his march, he had sung the famous war hymn, which Heyne compares to the Marseillaise, and the Emperor was about to resist him, as he said in his imperial rescript, “though at the peril of his own blood, of his dignity, and of the fortune of the empire.” The triumphant innovator was recalled to himself for an instant by seeing the tomb of a faithful brother. He pointed it out to Doctor Jonas. “See, there he rests; and I——” He could not finish. After a little while he returned to it and sat down on the stone, where he remained more than an hour, and till Amsdorf was obliged to remind him that the convent bell had tolled the hour for sleep. Well might the heart in which such tempests were still gathering have wept at the image of that quiet grave.
THE MONKS AND POLITE LETTERS (A.D. 527).
Cassiodorus, a most accomplished and high-born youth, became prime minister to Odoacer and then to Theodoric; but on the downfall of the Ostrogoths he become tired of diplomacy, and at seventy years of age retired and founded the monastery of Viviers about 527, at the foot of Mount Moscius. He was not satisfied with the usual occupations of monastic life; and having always been devoted to the pursuit of learning and science, he sought to distinguish his monastery from the others by making it the asylum of literature and the arts. He endowed the institution with his Roman library, containing the accumulations of half a century. Not only were the monks incited by his example to the study of classical and sacred literature, but he trained them likewise to the art of carefully transcribing manuscripts of rare and precious works. He introduced also the arts of bookbinding, gardening, and medicine. He employed much of his own spare time also in the composition of scientific treatises, and in making clocks, sundials, and lamps. His mode of arranging the occupations of monks became known as a system, and was adopted beyond the boundaries of Italy; and thus the multiplication of manuscripts became a recognised employment, like prayer and fasting. He is said to have lived to be a hundred years old, and left several interesting works of his own on sacred literature.
THE MONKISH LITERATURE ABOUT THE SAINTS.
The early Christians had great difficulty in obtaining knowledge of the Scriptures, though it was the duty of the bishops and priests and deacons to read these as part of the service. And the want of printing was a great drawback to the circulation of every kind of book knowledge at the fireside. But the Lives of the Saints were the favourites, and the most keenly sought after from the sixth to the sixteenth century. Many of the biographies were written by some friend or pupil of the deceased person, and still remain most graphic pictures of the habits of the age. The ingenuity of the authors, when they lived long after their hero, was taxed in order to crowd into the narrative every incident which could sustain the craving for the marvellous and romantic, and these were the inventions of the composer. The Lives were written in the language of the people, and the supply seemed to be equal to the demand. They moulded the creed of all the common people, and the artists embodied them in endless forms in stained windows, mosaics, and pictures. So wonderful were the works usually recorded that they not only arrested the ear at once, but they became so blended and intermixed with history, that it is almost impossible to separate the fact from the fiction. Many of the details seem purposeless in their absurdity; while a few are well narrated and so probable that they were implicitly believed by all who enrolled themselves among the faithful.
THE SCRIPTORIUM IN THE MONASTERY OF ST. GALL.
The monastery of St. Gall, in Switzerland, which rose to be one of the chief religious houses in the Frankish Empire in 816-883, had a fine library and scriptorium, where the monks excelled in copying manuscripts and illuminating them. The monks sat daily in perfect silence at writing-tables, copying the works of the Fathers and the Bible. They often wrote marginal notes, giving vent to their wants and desires of the moment. Each house had its peculiar style of penmanship. In the time of the Abbot Hartmut, about 870, there were three famous monks at St. Gall, called Notker the Stammerer, Ratpert, and Tutilo, and close friends. Notker was said to be the most learned man of his time; and one day a presumptuous emperor’s chaplain went up to him, saying, “Most learned sir, you know everything; pray tell us what God is doing now.” Notker at once replied, “He is doing now what He is always doing, and what He will soon do to thee. He is exalting the humble and abasing the proud.” A chronicler says that this chaplain, in departing in the Emperor’s train, was thrown from his horse and disfigured for life. Notker was a great musician, and set the best hymns to music for use in all the Western Churches. Ratpert also composed sacred songs and a chronicle of the abbey. Tutilo was skilful as an orator, as well as carver and painter, and played on the flute. His delight was to travel from monastery to monastery, where he was always welcome; for he carved and painted and made gifts of his own fine workmanship. These three friends greatly enjoyed their time of meeting each night in the scriptorium, where they discoursed on Bible subjects. One night they overheard the new abbot, who was greatly disliked, listening at the door, and they seized him and chastised him vigorously, to the great delight of the brethren. In revenge the abbot wilfully cut and spoiled the leaves of some valuable Greek works then in course of being copied by Notker.