"Thou hast come out of thy probation badly, brother Paul, and broken through the rules in two instances. Thou knowest that the members of our order must ever travel in couples, as the Saviour sent out his disciples two by two. Thou hast also sinned against thy vow of obedience. Thou still thinkest to oppose thy conscience, thy reason, thy will to those of thy superior. The Holy Ignatius did not say however without cause: 'When G.o.d has placed over thee even an unreasoning animal, do not refuse to obey it in all things as thy guide and teacher, G.o.d has so ordered it,' and again he writes: 'If the Church of Rome declares as white, what appears to thee black, thou shalt not believe thy own eyes, but those of the Church of Rome.'

Instead of this thou hast set thy own inward light above the revealed command, as do the heretics. We know now, how we stand with thee."

Thus Paul had to begin his stay in Speyer with severe exercises, which were to punish him for something, which still appeared to him as the usual and plain mode of dealing of every honest man. The Rector perceived however that here he must not draw the bow string too tight, and therefore the universally beloved Father Aloysius was appointed as Paul's confessor and spiritual guide, his mild and calm nature soon winning the latter's confidence. Paul did not make any further mention of the annoying event which happened on his journey. He had now learnt that a monk must submit to an injury, without complaint. Other sorrows however tortured him much more than the question whether he or this Brother Antonio had been in the right. As he finally concluded to frankly confess to this worthy Father Aloysius how it stood with him, to lament to him the feeling of emptiness and solitude which weighed him down, to acknowledge the utter absence of joy and hope which had come over him, his confessor made him no reproachful reprimand, but said gently and kindly to him: "Be of good cheer, my son. Many, many a young man has been tormented by the grievous thoughts, whether unendless sorrow and heaviness awaited him, who however stood on the brink of a richly endowed life; thou knowest however, that the morning star rises above all these dismal fogs and lowering clouds." These kindly words distilled themselves like balm over the mind of Paul, and he had never before experienced so vividly the advantage of auricular confession. Father Aloysius became a shining model of one fulfilling the most severe duties. He would become like to this aged delicate man, who devoted every moment of his life to others, in the care of his penitents, his poor, his sick. Unreservedly did he describe in his next report these inward sensations concerning his mode of life. The effect of this confession was a removal to Heidelberg. The Superior found that the young Brother Paul was wasting his life in fruitless inward contemplation; the young wine must fill some new bottle, lest it be spoiled, moreover the peace-loving method of which Father Aloysius was the model, was not to be recommended to the young man in these moments of warfare. So Paul was commanded to accept a call to Heidelberg, which had just been offered to him. "You will have there a worldly-wise superior," said Father Aloysius when wishing him farewell, "the Doctor Pigavetta as he is known in the world, and I fear muchly he has made the world a part of his individual self, still he is more active than I am, and perhaps his unrest will be of more use to thee, than the monotonous intercourse with an old man like myself, who has perchance already wearied thee. Shouldst thou however be in need of inward peace, thou wilt ever be welcomed by Brother Aloysius."

A straight level road brought Paul from Speyer to Heidelberg, and this time he was determined to blindly obey his new Superior, as prescribed by his vow. Modestly did he knock at the door of the house near the Klingenthor. His tranquillity was sorely tried, when on the door opening he found standing before him his travelling companion Doctor Antonio. He had on the same velvet cap and dark cloak, which he had worn on the journey, and noticed with visible complacency the horror of the novice. Paul composed himself and asked in a dry tone to see Doctor Pigavetta. "Go up stairs and you will find him," answered Brother Antonio coolly. A number of spiral staircases led Paul to the upper part of a tower, where he found Dr. Pigavetta's name inscribed on a door. At his knock a well known voice bade him enter, and as he opened the door he saw before him the same man whom he had met below in travelling costume, seated near a table in a long dressing gown, and apparently deeply studying some books and papers. This appearance completely confused him. Which was the veritable Antonio? He bowed his head and waited patiently till this mysterious stranger chose to address him. "Your credentials," said the Superior in a cold tone of command. Paul handed his cypher-letter with trembling hands. After that the former had read it through, he said with an expression of quiet contempt: "I think, young Brother, that our first acquaintance will render obedience to your new Superior easier for all times. You may depend upon it that whenever I give astonishing commands I have my reason for doing so, and you will henceforth be more sparing of your little bit of worldly wisdom. That in Innsbruck it was not for the sake of a few pennies, you might have discovered from a man of my appearance, had you not been a short-sighted bookworm. Now that you have acquired this knowledge through your own wisdom, you will perhaps kindly remember your vow of obedience. In any case we know each other well enough, to accommodate ourselves to each other." Pigavetta was silent and a sarcastic smile curled his upper lip. So this was the same Dr. Antonio with whom he had travelled, into whose care he was again committed. Inwardly Paul boiled over with wild rage, but he would give his superior no cause, to report him again for disobedience. He remained standing in the same humble position adopted by novices before the initiated. The joker in the former soon came again to the surface.

Laughing he clapt the young man on the shoulder and said: "Be merry, be merry, little brother. 'Jovial people are worth twice as much as sad ones,' said the Holy Ignatius, and our vows do not require us to hang down our heads. Thus I welcome you to Heidelberg, and first of all you must pledge me." Then the old Jesuit took a bottle of water, poured out its contents into a vessel in the wall, turned on a little tap and immediately red wine flowed out. "Drink to our welfare," he said, as if there was nothing remarkable in all this. Paul sipped, but as the wine was strong and with a bouquet, he put down his half emptied gla.s.s on the table and said: "Pardon me, Reverend Father, I am not accustomed to wine."

"As you will," replied the Doctor. He then took the gla.s.s, poured the wine back into the vessel in the which was the water, opened the same tap out of which wine had previously flowed, filled the gla.s.s with pure water, with which he rinced it and placed it on one side. Paul felt that his head was turning with all this excitement, and as he leant against a chair which stood before him, it began to play and sing. "You feel unwell," said Pigavetta, "go out into the air, and come to the Collegium at the hour of Vespers. I will then introduce you to the teachers." He was thus dismissed. As he however reached the house-door as in a dream. Dr. Antonio stood suddenly before him in his travelling clothes. He appeared to have returned from a walk and said calmly: "It is well that we meet again, here is the gold piece which I borrowed of you at Innsbruck," he then coolly turned his back on him.

Paul stood before this uncanny house with a dull feeling of stupefaction. The wine had gone to his head. He hastened therefore to a clear little brook on his right to bathe his temples and wash this dream away from his eyes. On thinking calmly over the matter he felt very certain that Dr. Antonio had been making a fool of him. The trick of turning water into wine together with the musical chair was too childish to impress him, but that which rendered him most sceptical was the returned purse. As Antonio had not paid the innkeeper at Innsbruck, he therefore owed him two gold pieces and a lot of small change, it might be also, that the money returned to him was a lucky-penny, but previous proofs did not seem to confirm this. The Professor's magic arts appeared to the novice as being of a dubious character. The double appearance in the study and at the door Paul finally explained as being one of those contrivances which he had often seen as a part of his brother's scaffolding works. There was evidently a lift in the Tower, by which Pigavetta could get up and down much quicker than his visitors who had to use the winding staircase. The more however that his superst.i.tious fears were allayed, the more did the feeling of discomfort increase, at being placed in a strange country under a man who bore two names, calculated very inexactly, and either possessed or pretended to possess the gift of a double ident.i.ty.

Nevertheless the new calling which he had accepted did away for a short time with his melancholy. For a few months all went on well, when however the first winter came to an end, and the mild blasts came over from Italy, the old feeling of despondency once more seized the lonely Youth. The dark thoughts, which had been dispelled by his intercourse with the excellent Father Aloysius returned with twofold power. He wandered about with an inward wretchedness, which crippled his every action. Such was the condition in the which Felix found him, as they met once again after so long a separation.

The malady which had befallen Paul, is better described as an opposition to his brother's health, who had already spent a winter with him in Venice.

Felice had followed Paul to Venice, and the young artist had been full of ardor to make use of a better instruction in that mechanical part of his profession, now offered to him at the Collegio. Soon Felix became almost more thankfully submissive to the order than was his brother Paul. The Architect learnt here the theory of his art, mathematics, geometry, mechanics, without a knowledge of which he had ever remained a mere dabbler. His mind found nourishment in the rhetorical and poetical exercises, and after he had laid aside his chisel and ap.r.o.n, it was his delight and highest joy to hear in the College lectures on philosophy, literature and poetry. He knew little of the inward hierarchic motive-power, and when he by means of the Society's influence received a brilliant offer in the Netherlands, he left the College with a feeling of grat.i.tude, which inwardly was boundless, although he seldom found opportunity of proving it. The exact contrary was the case with his brother. The last moments of his stay in College had been a mere tribulation, for the long years of ambitious excitement began now to tell. Accustomed to applause, even the highest measure which could be bestowed on a novice no longer satisfied him. The clearness in the exposition of science, which delighted his more ignorant brother, appeared to him already superficial; the bands, which his brother did not even perceive, began already to oppress him, and inwardly less subservient to the Order than Felice, so much the more did he wish outwardly to serve it, thinking thus to subdue his inward uneasiness by a galling outward activity, to deaden the feeling of dissatisfaction, to appease the hunger after happiness which had awakened in him. Therefore now in Heidelberg did he pa.s.sionately buckle to the work a.s.signed to him, without troubling himself much about Pigavetta. After all the time of preparation he found himself opposed to a task, which was important if rendered so by him. For the outside world an inferior member of a theological seminary, he felt himself an historical lever, which was designed to throw an entire people into other religious grooves. The idea was sufficiently phantastic, that a tutor of philology should from this subordinate position demolish the Church of the Kurfurst, but Paolo clung to the maxim of the founder of his order, "should G.o.d bid you cross the sea, go you in a ship, but if there be no ship, then cross on a board." In Speyer he had received the order to enter for the degree of Master of Arts at the University of the Kurfurst, which to him was mere child's play. Pigavetta had imposed on him the part of a good Calvinist, for which violent abuse of the Lutherans was all that was necessary. But now his Superior laid before him an order in cypher from the Provincial which commanded him to pa.s.s an examination before the Council of the reformed Church _pro ministerio_, and to take the position of clergyman in Heidelberg. For the first time he hesitated. The better man in him reacted against the hierarchical. He was willing to play the comedy of Calvinism for a time, but he was too proud to make it the purport of his life. Being told that he must become a reformed clergyman so as to better spread the Catholic dogma, awoke in him a feeling of discomfort, even though he shared the opinion of his teachers, that every means was good which proved of service to the highest good, the Church. But the proposition found a powerful ally in the oratory lying fallow within him, and which longed for an auditorium, a pulpit and the applause so thirsted after.

He was already weary of explaining the Latin authors to the sleepy scholars of the Sapientia College. With what an enthusiasm did he daily introduce descriptions of the splendor of Italy in his lectures, so as to call forth a home-sickness for Rome in the hearts of the young Germans,--they however yawned in his face. With what ingenuity had he found pieces out of Seneca and Plato, to which he could append quotations from the Church Fathers in support of the Catholic dogma,--the worthy scholars cut large holes in the oaken benches and thought about, not his conclusions extracted from Festino and Barbara, but of a barmaid of the same name in the adjacent pot-house. In lofty sounding words did he glorify the great men of the Church's past, the scholars threw paper b.a.l.l.s, or mutually smeared each others' seats with cobbler's wax. Whether Rome, or Wittenberg, that was for him the momentous question of the day, to them it was of much more importance, whether the beer at the Schiltzenhof or at the Hirsch was better.

Evidently the heretics were not to be gotten at through the male s.e.x of their hopeful progenies. He was soon very tired of "nipping the horn of the bull," as says the Italian proverb. Then came the unexpected command of his Superior to turn the full force of his activity to the pulpit. Disgusted at a want of success among the sleepy youths, and famishing for praise, the order given him to undertake the ambiguous _role_ rendered his decision easier. His inward scruples were soon silenced, as his eloquence received the highest meed of praise. Hearts were moved by the melodious voice of the Italian, by the grace of his appearance, by the charm of his foreign accent, and Paolo's bold dreams of a counter-reformation appeared about to be consummated when he saw, how Sunday after Sunday the ranks of his hearers filled more and more.

The intoxication of success deafened the voice of conscience, which warned him, that he was in reality carrying on a very critical line of action, and he was therefore little pleased when the Countess Palatine singled him out for the Stift at Neuburg, and took him away from a career so full of promise. To win back a lost convent already seemed to him as too contemptible a matter for a man of his gifts, and it went almost against his grain to be compelled to learn once more the almost forgotten services of the Ma.s.s, and to hold a surrept.i.tious service, which owing to the Kurfurst's hatred of the "d.a.m.nable bigotry" might cost him dear. Even the confessions of the old ladies, their thoughts, the monotonous relations of their troubled dispositions, their inward sorrows and sore temptations were not quickening to him. Young himself he felt an attraction towards young people. Owing to this very human cause the instruction which he had to impart to the young maidens of the cloister-school, was not so burdensome as that bestowed on the cla.s.ses of the Sapientia. Fresh and blooming as beauteous buds just bursting from their sh.e.l.ls sat the girls and children before him, and listened eagerly to every word he spoke. They understood intuitively what he wished, and in that breath of love and admiration, which met him on all sides, it seemed to him as if his parched soul lived again, and as if feelings awoke once more, which had slumbered since he saw the pale thin woman, who had watched over him during his youth, borne away in her coffin. If when in the College he had rejoiced that his lessons were over, now did he willingly place himself at the head of his young ones, and accompany them in their walks around the convent meadows. Above at the spring house, lower down sitting under the spreading beeches he taught the children to build altars, and wind wreaths. He showed them how the beloved angels vanished through bushes, or looked down as clouds from heaven and bore away a greeting from each child to the Mother of G.o.d. At other times he drilled the young ones into forming processions and pilgrimages, teaching them to sing guileless texts adapted from catholic books. Thus could the children play at being catholics without the parents becoming aware of it. It is true that once the miller's wife complained that her little daughter had burnt the name of the Holy Mary in her arm, and that Reinhard had cut the same in an apple-tree. The Domina however calmed her by saying that through that the little maiden would not get a fever, and that the apple-tree would bear a double crop.

The Magister had also quiet talks concerning the welfare of the soul with the older girls, and the maidens acknowledged, that they had never before conceived how bad, how in reality wicked they were, but their heavenly good Magister knew how to console them so lovingly, that they had never been so happy as at the present moment. But how came it to pa.s.s that about this time Lydia Erast took to complaining that recently in their games the less agreeable positions were always given to her, and that when playing: "Do not look round, the Fox is about," Clara and Bertha, who used to be her best friends, now struck out at her more spitefully even than did the others? How came it also that the usually so grave Magister came at times out of the cla.s.s rooms with a happy smile such as had never been seen on his lips when leaving the Sapientia, and instead of reciting his breviary warbled the Odes to Lalage to the astonished beeches? How all this came about, he himself knew not. At first his eye had rested unwittingly on this fair head, as a young teacher when giving the first lesson, out of embarra.s.sment fixes his look on some bright face, a particular pillar, or the corner of one of the benches. Next the bright blue eye fixed on him with touching devotion had attracted him, and soon he had to acknowledge to himself, that he especially directed his teaching to that sweet child, that only for her did he prepare the substance of his discourse, that he only saw her, only thought of her, only heard her answers, though she in no wise surpa.s.sed the others in mental acquirements. An indefinite yearning seized him, to see her always before him in all the cla.s.ses. Thus the misery, which rendered his days peaceless and his nights sleepless began, and cast him into that inwardly at variance, gloomy state of mind, in the which his brother found him.

CHAPTER VII.

To be questioned about a secret, which one conceals from one's self often resembles the fatal word of the fairy tale, which wakes the Sleeping Beauty from her trance, or dispels the dreams of the Seven Sleepers. This horrible word, which had aroused him from his dangerous dawning life, and cast him out into the sharp morning air and glaring light of day, had on this eventful day twice fallen on the ear of the young Priest, and he would not hear it, as he desired not to awake.

This was indeed rather the cause why Paolo Laurenzano had received his brother, whom he was in reality delighted to see once again, so coldly and distantly, than the coolness befitting a monk as regards the ties of the flesh. It had not been necessary for him to be informed of the raillery to which Lydia was exposed on his account. As scholar of the Collegio, he had been accustomed to have ears and eyes about him, and had also heard the name "Wegewarte" as he directed his steps that morning towards his apartment, and as he had often met on his way the fair child, and had exchanged a few kindly words with her, he understood the state of the case at once, and turned back through the wood towards the public road without entering his own room. In vain had he endeavored to banish the hideous word "Wegewarte" from his memory.

It was clear that every child in the convent knew how matters which he dreaded admitting to himself stood between him and Lydia. Then his brother had bluntly at once hinted at his well kept secret, and he had angrily repelled the hand, because perhaps it alone had any right to lift the veil. With a feeling of unspeakable misery and bitterness he now stood alone on the road gazing at the river. Had he wished to represent clearly to himself the feeling which oppressed him, he would perhaps have thus addressed himself: "Beloved Magister Laurenzano, the pious Fathers in the College taught thee, that deception is a weapon with which a wise man can overthrow a hundred fools. But this weapon is sharp and double-edged, and often wounds him, who carries it concealed about him, even before he can turn it against others. Hadst thou boldly appeared in thy veritable character of Roman priest, this fair German maiden had never gazed on thee with such eyes, and had never stolen thy heart from thee; or if thou wert, what thou appearest to be, a Calvinistic clergyman, thou wouldst go tomorrow to her father and frankly ask for the hand of his daughter, and I know he would not say thee, nay. Whom hast thou therefore most grievously injured by thy deception? Thyself, thyself alone. But why not put an end to these deceits and frauds?" Had the dejected man wished to render himself a plain answer, thus would he have spoken: "I, Paolo Laurenzano, primus omnium of the College at Venice, am too good for the people here. I have not worked day and night and denied myself all the joys of youth, to now throw up my career on account of a fair child. Every Priest wears his nimbus under his tonsure, so was I taught and so I learnt. Of the generalship, of the scarlet hat, of the Tiara was the song ever dinned into my ears, and now shall I end in this excommunicated land, in this dull German town my days as tutor of these unlicked whelps?

Why, even the feeling of homesickness for the sunny skies of Italy prevents me from accepting a belief, which would ever prevent my return thither."

Something of this unconscious wish roused him to-day from his inertness, and as a keen east wind blew towards him from the mountains, a more powerful energy obtained the mastery within him. "As a mighty conqueror will I return some day to Italy, and not remain sequestered in the fogs of this Odenwald. How would it be if I brought about a great revival? If I, as did the Archbishop Borromeo in Veltlin, could only effect a great conversion among heretics, of women especially?"

The thought excited him. "Thou must act, not dream. Thou must press forward to the attack, not be ever putting it off. If they drive thee away, if they slay thee, so much the better. What is this life worth, that we should not lay it down in the breach for our flag?" And he depicted to himself, the rage of the fat German Kurfurst at hearing that the daughters of his court aristocracy had returned in a body to the Catholic Faith. He at once recognised the means which he must employ. He would introduce the exercises of Loyola into the Stift, through prayers, contemplations and an education in visions he would attain to a much more rapid result than through his everlasting preaching and catechising. "The Catholic Faith must be introduced in a catholic manner, not by the long-drawn-out means of heresy. Things must take a more rapid course; the fortress is either to be taken by storm or not at all." But with whom should he begin? With the old dames? They were already won over or impregnable. The young ones, whose phantasy was still paramount, whose minds were excitable and ductible, they must be filled with enthusiasm for the sweet Madonna and child, and then carry on others through their example. It quite escaped the good Magister that here once again the child Jesus with the banner of his Church in hand appeared under the guise of the rogue Cupid. With the steps of an Elisha he strode up the hill to the Stift; reaching his room he put a book hastily into his pocket, and requested the sister-porter to beg an audience in his name of the Lady Superior. The Countess, an elderly lady with mild finely cut features, received him with that calm composed kindness, which in a life full of good intentions and shattered hopes had become her second nature, and asked him what he wished. With all her gentleness the immobility of expression caused by years of conventual discipline was still perceptible about her, and though she had been compelled to lay aside the great white cap worn by the Sisters, she held her head as straight as if its huge white pinions still flapped around her head. But her cool repelling manner only stimulated the excited young man to a higher pitch of enthusiasm. The fiery Italian described with much gesticulation the torture of an inactive life. "No storm is worse than a placid sea," says the holy Ignatius, "and no enemy is more dangerous than having none." Either he must return to Italy, or dare and succeed in something. He had not been sent merely to celebrate a clandestine service in a half empty Convent, or to teach Greek particles to overgrown boys; he must have some success or quit the place. "For weeks," said he at the end of a pa.s.sionate harangue, "I have been explaining the Catholic dogma, exalting monachism, and celibacy, and extolling virginity above marriage. I praise, as prescribed by my directions, at every opportunity the blessing of relics, the worship and invocation of saints, the stations of the cross, pilgrimages, abstinences, fastings, indulgences, jubilees, holy days, the custom of lighting candles, pictures, and all the other aids to piety and the worship of G.o.d, but what has it availed? Everything is as before. If you cannot determine on a more decided line of action I give up the struggle. In this way we shall never attain our end."

The old Countess had kept her eyes fixed calmly on the youthful speaker and her hands moved as if she were telling her beads, a habit into which she naturally fell, whenever an event occurred in the which she was deeply interested. If his youthful enthusiasm and the high colour which covered his usually pale face had not suited him so well, the old Princess would have calmly called him to order, for she was opposed to any violent excitement. But she felt in this case a motherly interest in the handsome young man and her own life had taught her that by waiting over long, one could wait through a whole life time. In answer to her question, as to what he meant by a more decided action, the young Magister handed her a small book, bearing the t.i.tle "_Exercitia spiritualia_." "We cannot produce a belief in catholicism through protestantism," added Paul, "only through catholicism, and here is the approved _disciplina_, by which our famed General, the holy Ignatius, knew how to win souls over to the Catholic Church better than by teaching or preaching."

The Lady Superior turned over the leaves of the book, and asked somewhat doubtfully: "In what do these _exercitia_ differ from other christian books?"

"The prayer-books of the heretics," answered Paul, "would teach a cognition of G.o.d, for the Protestants desire to comprehend G.o.d, to think and understand Him. The holy Ignatius has on the other hand shown in the book, how man can feel and experience G.o.d, taste his entire sweetness. Not through knowledge, says he in the introduction, is the desire of the soul after G.o.d satisfied, but only through inward experience, and the idea of these _exercitia spiritualia_ is to guide this perception. These _exercitia_ are practical prayers, by which we, through the exertion of our senses, through the extending of our hands and whole body, through wrestling and prayer struggle to feel him near to us, and thus ourselves come nearer to G.o.d. The holy man traces out here in outline the objects on which man should direct his attention with his entire energy. They are identical with those accepted by the heretics, the fall of the angels, the mystery of the redemption, the incorporation of the _logos_, eternal d.a.m.nation and the everlasting pains of h.e.l.l. Yet understand, n.o.ble Lady! The Lutheran believes this, he ponders over these things, he endeavours to conceive them. But only to hear or read concerning these things does not bring us nearer to the Supreme Being. The soul must see all these things, it must become aware of their truth through the consciousness of the senses, it must raise itself even to vision. This little book only contains the directions by which we succeed, in seeing, tasting and feeling with all our senses the eternal splendor. Opposed to calvinistic vapidness this book wishes to bestow on the poor frozen soul the sweet fire of the old faith. He only who has seen the Mother of G.o.d and the saints, as Saint Franciscus and St. Katherina saw them, is one of us. That is the G.o.dly doctrine of the 'Application of the senses' as imagined by the holy Ignatius.

Permit me therefore, most gracious Countess, to exercise this the only effectual method on the pupils."

The Abbess remained silent, and distrustfully turned the leaves over and over. "Is that really the whole of the discipline?" she then asked the Magister, remembering many scandals which had come to her knowledge with reference to such _exercitia_.

"Flagellation, expiation through blood, even fasting, we cannot introduce again," replied Laurenzano, "at least not yet, but the pious maidens can by prayers at the foot of the cross, by kissing the implements of torture applied on the martyrs, by tears and weeping, atone in a measure for the outrage committed at Golgatha on the tree of life, at a time when the King of Kings was spat upon and buffetted.

There is a blessing in the tears of women, and the maiden who has wept over the sorrows of the Mother of G.o.d is thereby freed from the curse of heresy. What I usually add, are innocuous things, pictures, relics, flowers, a few mementoes of death and the grave. You remember how in the Eleusinian mysteries the initiated were led up to the truth through serious or pleasing symbols. Permit me to use a few aids of this kind.

The symbol is the language of our church, only the heretic is satisfied with the mere word."

"On which of the young ladies have you thought to essay these exercises?" inquired the Domina.

"We could proceed according to age."

"The pupils von Eppingen, von Steinach, and Lieblerin are the first in the order."

Paul nodded indifferently.

"I only fear," said the Abbess, and her hand sought the Rosary which was no longer there, "that you will drive these young souls into a fanaticism, which can do injury to the _sanitudo corporis_. These young ladies have not been entrusted to me, to be turned into visionaries."

"When the Domina of this Convent notices evil consequences," replied Paul submissively, "she is always at liberty to order these _exercitia_ to be broken off. I am quite certain, n.o.ble lady, that so soon as you experience the blessing, which is to be found in this little book, you will yourself as well as all the other ladies attend these _exercitia_."

"Well then, in G.o.d's name. How do you wish to manage the affair?"

"According to the prescription of the holy Ignatius, the person shall thoroughly study in his private closet at a quiet hour of the morning or evening one of the pa.s.sages marked here. Doors and windows must be closed, the light of day must be shut out. Kneeling on his knees must the penitent give his whole soul up to the narrative of the stories, which are here marked out with short strokes. I will read out these extracts to the young ladies, and beg them to remain in a position of worship, till the object of the exercise has been obtained."

"These exercises cannot take place in the rooms, you must use the Church."

"In that case," replied Paolo, "the Church must remain closed, and the light must be subdued. All impressions likely to distract are to be avoided, otherwise the real compilation is impossible."

"I will close the outer doors," said the Abbess, "those leading to my pa.s.sage must remain open, so that I can go in and out. I shall not disturb you."

Paolo bowed. "When do you wish to begin?"

"At sunset."

It now struck the good Domina, that the dark Neapolitan had declared as the fittest implements of the church the three fairest children of the Odenwald, but she suppressed her suspicions, went to the young girls, and informed them that the Magister intended holding special evening prayer services for the promotion of their souls' welfare. Did they acquiesce, they must remain behind in the church after Vespers. The three maidens blushed, but none refused.

The Magister at noon visited the church several times and brought in secretly a few objects, some of them from his own room, others were taken from the town into the chapel of the Convent. In the evening vespers were conducted as usual. When the organ had ceased playing the loud sounding recessional and the exulting Hallelujah, Paul appeared before the altar, where he found the three girls kneeling in a reverent position on the three first benches. A mystical semi-darkness filled a chapel never too bright. The young Priest uttered a prayer, and then made his three young friends a small discourse containing much of the same substance which we have already read in his remarks to the Countess Sabina. Man must not only think about a higher world, but must feel and experience it, so as to be certain of its existence. For this cause a holy man had thought of the exercises which he was about to go through with them. Their soul should in this very hour confer with Jesus about its belief as a friend with a friend, as a servant with its Lord. He himself would aid them. He then ordered the first of the maidens to kneel down in the gloom behind the altar, where on this day hung a picture representing in vivid and glaring colours the Holy family in the carpenter's shop. Next he took Bertha von Steinach already trembling with excitement by the hand and led her to a gloomy chapel at the side. Before the altar at which he bade her kneel was a large basket of roses. "Pray here, my dear child," he said, "and when thou hast reverently repeated a Pater noster, Ave Maria, Salve regina, Gloria and Magnificat, cast aside these flowers of the Spring and consider what is hidden behind the roses of this life." Then he led Lydia, gently supporting her by the arm to the steps of the organ, where in a semi-dark corner a strange casket covered over by a curtain, and having a round gla.s.s attached was visible. On it was written in Latin: "Memento mirror for Brother Paul, which will bring back his veritable calling to his recollection." "When you have prayed," said the Magister, inviting her to kneel by a gentle pressure on her young shoulders, "look through this gla.s.s, and it will show you what awaits you." He then ascended the pulpit and read slowly and with many interruptions a meditation out of his book, which described in coa.r.s.e fanciful outlines, in stammering visionary language, the course, which the phantasy of the worshipper should follow. "I see," he began in a low suppressed tone, "the three Persons of the G.o.dhead, looking down on the entire globe, filled with men who must go down into h.e.l.l." "I see,"

continued he after a pause, "how the Holy Trinity concludes, that the second Person must take on himself human nature for the redemption of lost sinners."

"I now survey," he then read out after another pause, "the whole circ.u.mference of this earth and behold in a corner the hut of Mary. The Holy Personages stand around the crib at Bethlehem. A beam of light pours down on the divine child and I hear the song of praise of the heavenly host: 'Glory to G.o.d in the Highest and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.'"

Then all was still in the church; the setting sun threw its last golden beams over the entablature. Stupefying clouds of incense arose in the close chapel, and low, moaning, sighing tones proceeded from the organ; they were motives from the Miserere, and Tenebrae played with variations by the Italian. Then again the reading was continued in a tone which fell like lead on the young souls of his audience, and deadened every free action of the mind. The chords increased in power, and filled the darkened s.p.a.ce. The voices separated and joined again; some notes expressed the deep subjection of the sinner, his contrite humility, others spoke out in trumpet-like tones of the glorious Majesty. Then all became a chaotic struggling and wrestling. It was as if the earth itself opened its mouth to utter its sorrowful wail, and heaven returned an answer. So must it thus sound, when the mountains of the Alps join in converse, or the sea answers back the stormwind raging over it. The entire sorrow of finality wailed in those tones to the throne of the Highest, and the Grace from above came down, as hovers the Invisible over his worlds.

Clara von Eppingen, a plump fair Swabian kneeling at the altar, had in the meanwhile thoroughly imbued herself with the appearances of the Holy Family. How lovingly did the Madonna bend over the fair headed Christ child, which pulled at her neckband with its little hands; how paternally proud stood St. Joseph close at hand, whilst St. Anna in attendance on the child and mother surveyed the group. The Holy Family seemed to look back at the plump Clara with a kindly gaze, and the coa.r.s.e strokes and vivid colors of the picture impressed themselves more and more on the mind of the almost entranced maiden. Had she been a woman, she would have loved to be the mother of such a brown-eyed Madonna, or fair Christ child; the Magister had treated her like Jacob did Laban's flocks, in causing her to remain kneeling for hours before this colored imagery. The thoroughly hearty maiden would have felt quite at her ease during these _exercitia_, had it not been for the rolling and sighing of the Organ which at times startled her, and had not a shriek of terror from the chapel, and a cry for help from the organ steps reached her ear.

The nervous and delicate Bertha von Steinach had in the meanwhile bent her curly head in prayer in the chapel over the sweet-smelling roses.

As she then, as directed by the Magister, plunged her hand in among the flowers, a cold, flat surface met her fevered touch. In terror she seized it and drew out a skull, which gazed at her with hollowed eyes, and mocking drooping jaw. Tremblingly she wished to replace it, when a living object rustled past her. It was a ring adder which the Magister had concealed in the basket, and which now gliding over the floor disappeared behind the altar. At this the excited young maiden uttered the cry of terror, heard by her friend Clara, and on regaining her composure, she saw at the bottom of the basket, b.l.o.o.d.y nails, thorns on which hung pieces of wool, scourges with small knots at the end or leaden shot, sharp p.r.o.ngs, little wheels, and other instruments of mortification. Such things as these according to the words of the Magister lay concealed under the roses of life. In horrified anguish she knelt before the basket out of which the skull grinned back at her, and unresistingly did she give herself up to the tones which poured forth from the organ.

Matters had not been better for Lydia. She knelt before the "Mirror of remembrance" and could only bring her mind with difficulty to prayer.

The dark round gla.s.s before her seemed to haunt her, and she felt as if she were about to see all the dead wives of Bluebeard the moment she looked into it. The tones of the organ however rea.s.sured her and she summoned up courage to follow the directions. A screech for help escaped her lips, the moment she looked into the gla.s.s. Immediately before her she saw a monk in his cowl, who seemed to move, but from under the hood she had recognised her own features, gazing pale, spiritualized, with awe-struck eyes. A chill seized her, and now the tones of the organ shook her to her very marrow. Long did she remain kneeling before summoning sufficient courage to look at the horrid image once again. Once more the same image; calm and pale sat the monk, but from under the cowl her own features met her gaze. Again she uttered a shriek of terror, and immediately her second-self opened its lips. Then the gla.s.s became dim and she was obliged to wipe it with her handkerchief. Doing this she became aware how the hand holding the cloth appeared from under the hood. Everything was now evident, she saw her own reflection. Indignant at the frightful spectre she drew the linen to one side, so as to examine with a girl's curiosity the matter thoroughly. Behind the curtain was painted a monk, whose wide cowl was filled up by a looking-gla.s.s, so that whosoever should happen to look in, must see his own face from under the hood. In her disgust she let the curtain drop. The impression produced on her had not been that intended by Paul. She did not complain at seeing her own countenance thus ghostly disfigured, looking out in the costume of one cut off from the world, but the Latin inscription, which contrary to Paul's expectation, she understood, rendered her uneasy, as marking through this monk's dress the veritable position of the Brother Paulus. The most strange and wondrous thoughts rushed through this bewildered child's head, and she was aroused from her darksome half terrifying, half sensuous dreams by the sudden and abrupt ceasing of the organ, as if death with its hard grip had straightway borne off the player. The two other worshippers aroused themselves with a start from out of the world of crowding thoughts, but immediately the melodious voice of the Italian sounded through the darkened church: "I survey the entire circ.u.mference of the earth and behold in a corner the home of Mary."

When he had finished reading this meditation, he strode slowly up to the first of the penitents kneeling at the altar, and after turning the picture with its face to the wall, he laid his small hand gently over the maiden's eyes and asked: "Dost thou still see with thy spiritual eyes the Holy Family." "I think so," lisped the plump maiden.

"Represent to thyself the hut, the saintly personages, their looks, their dress. Thou must see which persons stand in the shade, which in the light, what colors are used for their clothing. Thou must touch their foot prints, hear the rustle of their garments, feel their breath on thy cheek, before that thou mayest rise. Is it thus with thee, then answer 'Amen' and go with the sign of the Cross over thee, before that thy soul is again deadened." And bowing over her he imprinted a fatherly kiss on the head of the blooming child. He next crossed over to the excitable pa.s.sionate Bertha von Steinach, who lay shaking with fever out-stretched on the cold stone floor before the death's head and the instruments of martyrdom. He saw with a feeling of contentment, the effect of the means he had employed and when he looked at this bruised reed now like pliable wax in his hand, he determined to knead her very soul. "Knowest thou," he asked, "where tarries the soul that used to gaze from these empty sockets?" The young maiden shook her head, without rising up. "It is in the place of torment, and thou shalt see it, writhing in the dread flames of h.e.l.l. Shut thine eyes and look within the s.p.a.ce through which the glowing flames break. Dost thou not hear the wail of the d.a.m.ned, their meanings, their screams, their shrieks, their blasphemies against Christ? Dost thou smell the sulphurous vapor, the breath of corruption, the stink of the slimy pool, reeking upwards? Dost thou taste on thy tongue the salty bitterness of the tears wept by those below? Feelest thou on thy fingers the flames, by whose glow the souls of the d.a.m.ned are now burning?"

"Oh no, no," sighed the terrified child. Then the dark figure knelt at her side. She felt his breath on her cheek, how he was shaken with convulsive tremors as he wrestled in prayers, she heard him whispering in her ear in fanatical excitement. "I see millions and millions of beings writhing and shrivelling in the everlasting fire. I see how the pupil of their eyes roll with indescribable fever, how their hacked and mangled limbs quiver with unendurable pain. Ah, how bodies wind themselves round one another, how yells for mercy sound, but the heaven above them is brazen. Only the echo of their shouts return to them.

There however and yonder again in the dark corners grin the masks of devils with birdlike faces, froglike bodies, and eagle claws. They hover like bats around the d.a.m.ned and mock their torments. Now they seize the heaps of the tortured, they shoulder them, and away with them to the chaldron of burning brimstone. Dost thou see how the blue flames flare upwards? If one attempts to creep out, the devils flog him in again with snake scourges; dost thou see that one winding himself as a serpent round the body of yonder woman, and the toad on her body and the devil kissing her with his bat-like snout? Now the devils lay their heads together; how they gnash with their teeth, how their mocking laugh resounds! They are considering new torments, sharper tortures.

Dost thou see them shaking in fresh pitch, and the red column of flame now rising upwards? Now the smoke hides the light; a vapour conceals the ruddy glow, but the shrieks of terror increase. See how they look at us, how they stretch out their hands to us, they beg for our help, our prayers...."

"Oh, I can endure no more," sighed the poor child--"every thing smells of sulphur, I faint--I must leave."