The Monk: A Romance
He begged leave to eat his portion at the Convent door. This was
granted without difficulty: His sweet voice, and in spite of his
patched eye, his engaging countenance, won the heart of the good old
Porteress, who, aided by a Lay-Sister, was busied in serving to each
his Mess. Theodore was bad to stay till the Others should depart, and
promised that his request should then be granted. The Youth desired no
better, since it was not to eat Soup that He presented himself at the
Convent. He thanked the Porteress for her permission, retired from the
Door, and seating himself upon a large stone, amused himself in tuning
his Guitar while the Beggars were served.
As soon as the Crowd was gone, Theodore was beckoned to the Gate, and
desired to come in. He obeyed with infinite readiness, but affected
great respect at passing the hallowed Threshold, and to be much daunted
by the presence of the Reverend Ladies. His feigned timidity flattered
the vanity of the Nuns, who endeavoured to reassure him. The Porteress
took him into her awn little Parlour: In the meanwhile, the Lay-Sister
went to the Kitchen, and soon returned with a double portion of Soup,
of better quality than what was given to the Beggars. His Hostess added
some fruits and confections from her own private store, and Both
encouraged the Youth to dine heartily. To all these attentions He
replied with much seeming gratitude, and abundance of blessings upon
his benefactresses. While He ate, the Nuns admired the delicacy of his
features, the beauty of his hair, and the sweetness and grace which
accompanied all his actions. They lamented to each other in whispers,
that so charming a Youth should be exposed to the seductions of the
World, and agreed, that He would be a worthy Pillar of the Catholic
Church. They concluded their conference by resolving that Heaven would
be rendered a real service if they entreated the Prioress to intercede
with Ambrosio for the Beggar’s admission into the order of Capuchins.
This being determined, the Porteress, who was a person of great
influence in the Convent, posted away in all haste to the Domina’s
Cell. Here She made so flaming a narrative of Theodore’s merits that
the old Lady grew curious to see him. Accordingly, the Porteress was
commissioned to convey him to the Parlour grate. In the interim, the
supposed Beggar was sifting the Lay-Sister with respect to the fate of
Agnes: Her evidence only corroborated the Domina’s assertions. She said
that Agnes had been taken ill on returning from confession, had never
quitted her bed from that moment, and that She had herself been present
at the Funeral. She even attested having seen her dead body, and
assisted with her own hands in adjusting it upon the Bier. This account
discouraged Theodore: Yet as He had pushed the adventure so far, He
resolved to witness its conclusion.
The Porteress now returned, and ordered him to follow her. He obeyed,
and was conducted into the Parlour, where the Lady Prioress was already
posted at the Grate. The Nuns surrounded her, who all flocked with
eagerness to a scene which promised some diversion. Theodore saluted
them with profound respect, and his presence had the power to smooth
for a moment even the stern brow of the Superior. She asked several
questions respecting his Parents, his religion, and what had reduced
him to a state of Beggary. To these demands his answers were perfectly
satisfactory and perfectly false. He was then asked his opinion of a
monastic life: He replied in terms of high estimation and respect for
it. Upon this, the Prioress told him that his obtaining an entrance
into a religious order was not impossible; that her recommendation
would not permit his poverty to be an obstacle, and that if She found
him deserving it, He might depend in future upon her protection.
Theodore assured her that to merit her favour would be his highest
ambition; and having ordered him to return next day, when She would
talk with him further, the Domina quitted the Parlour.
The Nuns, whom respect for the Superior had till then kept silent, now
crowded all together to the Grate, and assailed the Youth with a
multitude of questions. He had already examined each with attention:
Alas! Agnes was not amongst them. The Nuns heaped question upon
question so thickly that it was scarcely possible for him to reply. One
asked where He was born, since his accent declared him to be a
Foreigner: Another wanted to know, why He wore a patch upon his left
eye: Sister Helena enquired whether He had not a Sister like him,
because She should like such a Companion; and Sister Rachael was fully
persuaded that the Brother would be the pleasanter Companion of the
Two. Theodore amused himself with retailing to the credulous Nuns for
truths all the strange stories which his imagination could invent. He
related to them his supposed adventures, and penetrated every Auditor
with astonishment, while He talked of Giants, Savages, Ship-wrecks, and
Islands inhabited
“By anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders,”
with many other circumstances to the full as remarkable. He said, that
He was born in Terra Incognita, was educated at an Hottentot
University, and had past two years among the Americans of Silesia.
“For what regards the loss of my eye” said He, “it was a just
punishment upon me for disrespect to the Virgin, when I made my second
pilgrimage to Loretto. I stood near the Altar in the miraculous Chapel:
The Monks were proceeding to array the Statue in her best apparel. The
Pilgrims were ordered to close their eyes during this ceremony: But
though by nature extremely religious, curiosity was too powerful. At
the moment ..... I shall penetrate you with horror, reverend Ladies,
when I reveal my crime! .... At the moment that the Monks were changing
her shift, I ventured to open my left eye, and gave a little peep
towards the Statue. That look was my last! The Glory which surrounded
the Virgin was too great to be supported. I hastily shut my
sacrilegious eye, and never have been able to unclose it since!”
At the relation of this miracle the Nuns all crossed themselves, and
promised to intercede with the blessed Virgin for the recovery of his
sight. They expressed their wonder at the extent of his travels, and at
the strange adventures which He had met with at so early an age. They
now remarked his Guitar, and enquired whether he was an adept in Music.
He replied with modesty that it was not for him to decide upon his
talents, but requested permission to appeal to them as Judges. This was
granted without difficulty.
“But at least,” said the old Porteress, “take care not to sing any
thing profane.”
“You may depend upon my discretion,” replied Theodore: “You shall hear
how dangerous it is for young Women to abandon themselves to their
passions, illustrated by the adventure of a Damsel who fell suddenly in
love with an unknown Knight.”
“But is the adventure true?” enquired the Porteress.
“Every word of it. It happened in Denmark, and the Heroine was thought
so beautiful that She was known by no other name but that of ‘the
lovely Maid’.”
“In Denmark, say you?” mumbled an old Nun; “Are not the People all
Blacks in Denmark?”
“By no means, reverend Lady; They are of a delicate pea-green with
flame-coloured hair and whiskers.”
“Mother of God! Pea-green?” exclaimed Sister Helena; “Oh! ’tis
impossible!”
“Impossible?” said the Porteress with a look of contempt and
exultation: “Not at all: When I was a young Woman, I remember seeing
several of them myself.”
Theodore now put his instrument in proper order. He had read the story
of a King of England whose prison was discovered by a Minstrel; and He
hoped that the same scheme would enable him to discover Agnes, should
She be in the Convent. He chose a Ballad which She had taught him
herself in the Castle of Lindenberg: She might possibly catch the
sound, and He hoped to hear her replying to some of the Stanzas. His
Guitar was now in tune, and He prepared to strike it.
“But before I begin,” said He “it is necessary to inform you, Ladies,
that this same Denmark is terribly infested by Sorcerers, Witches, and
Evil Spirits. Every element possesses its appropriate Dæmons. The Woods
are haunted by a malignant power, called ‘the Erl- or Oak-King:’ He it
is who blights the Trees, spoils the Harvest, and commands the Imps and
Goblins: He appears in the form of an old Man of majestic figure, with
a golden Crown and long white beard: His principal amusement is to
entice young Children from their Parents, and as soon as He gets them
into his Cave, He tears them into a thousand pieces—The Rivers are
governed by another Fiend, called ‘the Water-King:’ His province is to
agitate the deep, occasion ship-wrecks, and drag the drowning Sailors
beneath the waves: He wears the appearance of a Warrior, and employs
himself in luring young Virgins into his snare: What He does with them,
when He catches them in the water, Reverend Ladies, I leave for you to
imagine—‘The Fire-King’ seems to be a Man all formed of flames: He
raises the Meteors and wandering lights which beguile Travellers into
ponds and marshes, and He directs the lightning where it may do most
mischief—The last of these elementary Dæmons is called ‘the
Cloud-King;’ His figure is that of a beautiful Youth, and He is
distinguished by two large sable Wings: Though his outside is so
enchanting, He is not a bit better disposed than the Others: He is
continually employed in raising Storms, tearing up Forests by the
roots, and blowing Castles and Convents about the ears of their
Inhabitants. The First has a Daughter, who is Queen of the Elves and
Fairies; The Second has a Mother, who is a powerful Enchantress:
Neither of these Ladies are worth more than the Gentlemen: I do not
remember to have heard any family assigned to the two other Dæmons, but
at present I have no business with any of them except the Fiend of the
Waters. He is the Hero of my Ballad; but I thought it necessary before
I began, to give you some account of his proceedings—”
Theodore then played a short symphony; After which, stretching his
voice to its utmost extent to facilitate its reaching the ear of Agnes,
He sang the following Stanzas.
THE WATER-KING
A DANISH BALLAD
With gentle murmur flowed the tide,
While by the fragrant flowery side
The lovely Maid with carols gay
To Mary’s church pursued her way.
The Water-Fiend’s malignant eye
Along the Banks beheld her hie;
Straight to his Mother-witch he sped,
And thus in suppliant accents said:
“Oh! Mother! Mother! now advise,
How I may yonder Maid surprize:
Oh! Mother! Mother! Now explain,
How I may yonder Maid obtain.”
The Witch She gave him armour white;
She formed him like a gallant Knight;
Of water clear next made her hand
A Steed, whose housings were of sand.
The Water-King then swift He went;
To Mary’s Church his steps He bent:
He bound his Courser to the Door,
And paced the Church-yard three times four.
His Courser to the door bound He,
And paced the Church-yard four time three:
Then hastened up the Aisle, where all
The People flocked, both great and small.
The Priest said, as the Knight drew near,
“And wherefore comes the white Chief here?”
The lovely Maid She smiled aside;
“Oh! would I were the white Chief’s Bride!”
He stept o’er Benches one and two;
“Oh! lovely Maid, I die for You!”
He stept o’er Benches two and three;
“Oh! lovely Maiden, go with me!”
Then sweet She smiled, the lovely Maid,
And while She gave her hand, She said,
“Betide me joy, betide me woe,
O’er Hill, o’er dale, with thee I go.”
The Priest their hands together joins:
They dance, while clear the moon-beam shines;
And little thinks the Maiden bright,
Her Partner is the Water-spright.