ich's

, Erfurt, Jan

my vocation, and yet the conflict is not over. I seem scarcely more certain of my vocation now than while I remained in the world. Doubts buzz around me like wasps, and sting me on every side. The devil, transforming himself into an angel of light, perplexes m

does not call me back; but I seem ever to see her tearful eyes, full of reproach and wonder which she tries to repress, lifted up to heaven for strength; and her worn, pale face, growing more wan every day. In one voice and one face only I seem never to hear or

though I have given my body to the cloister, God will not have my soul, which evermore must hover like a lost spirit about the scenes it was too reluctant to le

proached him through His martyred saint, and said, "Holy Sebastian, by the arrows which pierced thy heart, ward off the arrows of pestilence from my home, and I will become a monk, and change my own guilty name for thine,"-from that moment did not Eva begin to recove

that flieth by day; by the cruel blows which sent thy spirit from the circus to paradise, strengthen me against the blows of Satan; by thy body rescued from ignominious sepulture and laid in the catacombs among the martyrs, raise me from

astica, F

ay my first probation was over, and I was inv

neeling before the prior, he asked me solemnly whether I thought m

s; the toils in the service of the order; the reproach and poverty; the humiliations of the mendicant; and, above all, the renunciation of s

could venture to say, "o

prior r

r one year; and may God, who has begun a goo

d in a deep amen, and then all

gustine, preces

nditori nos p

em tuum, summum

tatis, te colla

ritatis amant

os mellis de Scri

ius erant nobi

lvatoris dulcem

tum vit? de ps

icorum sanctam

et sequunter vi

to ductu redeu

is, vita, decu

et honor sit pe

ascribat supern

shorn with the clerical tonsure; my secular dress was laid aside; the garments of the novice were thrown on; and I was g

way, I knelt and bowed low to receive the

mansion in heaven, grant that his daily walk may be as becometh his calling

, who, forming in procession, moved towards the choir

hall of the cloister, where all the brot

the end shall be saved; and gave me over to the direction of the preceptor, w

he world further off from me. It has only raised another impassable barrier between me and all that was dearest to me;-impassable as an ocean without ships, infrangible as the strongest iron, I

, forgetting to touch the ground instantly with the hand and to smite the breast if in reading in the choir or in singing the least error is committed; looking about during the service; omitting prostration at the Annunciation or at Christmas; neglecting the benediction in coming in or goi

es are never allowed to converse except in presence of the prior, are forbidden to take any notice of visitors, are enjoined to walk

nute restrictions, I know not. To me there is a kind of dull, deadeni

ich has brought me here, whatever some may think and say, as they did of Martin Luther. I think of that ship in the picture at Magdeburg he so often told me of. Am I not in it,-actually in it now? and

ean over the jasper-battlements and help them from Purgatory up the steep sides of Paradise, and be first at the gate to welcome them in! And then, in Paradise, where love will no longer be in danger of becoming sin, may we not be together for ever and for ever? And the

stinian monastery at Erfurt, who, after resisting for years, have at last yielded up

It is, it must be, the Devil who beckons me through those dear faces, who calls me through those familiar voices; for they would never call me back. They would

ey are not fit for the kingdom of God." No exception, no reserve-monk, priest, saint; if a man look back, he is not fit for the kingdom of God. Then what becomes of my hopes of Paradise, or of acquiring merits which may aid others? Turn back, draw back, I will never, although all the devils were to drive me, or all the world entice me, but look back, who can help that? If a look can kill, what can save? Mortification, crucifixion, no

Erfurt, Febru

n hard at first; but remember the words of St. Jerome: 'Though thy father should lie before thy door weeping and lamenting, though thy mother sho

ked words!" my earthly heart would say; my sinful heart, that vigils, scourging, scarcely death itself, I fear, can kill. Surely, at least, the holy father Jerome spoke of heathen fathers and mothers. My mother would not show her anguish to win me back;

It is because those holy, tender words echo in my heart, from a voice weak with feeble health, that day by day and hour by hour, my heart goes b

red to think my father,-neglecting my plain, daily task for some Atlantis? and if my A

o years at Wittemberg, where he is, they say, to lecture on theology at the Elector's new univer

ture was so firm and straightforward and strong. He would probably have

Perpetua an

ugustinia

to the cloister feeling better and easier in mind, and more hopeful as to my vocation, than I had done for some days. Perhaps, however, the fresh air had something to do with it, and, after all, it was only a little bodily exultation. But certainly such bodily loads and outward mortifications are not th

oly Perpetua, who, after encouraging thy sons to die for Christ, was martyred thyself,

eph.-Ma

an Cloist

whose glory it was to have no glory, but meekly to aid others to win their higher crowns, give me also some humble place o

row calm, and cease to beat except with the life of the universal Church,-t

ch

sat with me in my cell yesterday, who told me strange tidi

c life did not at once br

e is such a peace as I long for;-not a still, death-like peace, as if he had fallen into it after the conflict; b

y like mine. Indeed, my confessor says that in all the years he has exercise

ty-one saints, and invoking three every day, so as to honour each every week. He read mass every day, and had an especial devotion for the blessed Virgin. He wasted his body with fastings and watching. He never intentionally violated the minutest rule of the order; and yet the more he strove, the more wretched he seemed to be. Like

thoughtfully, whe

ion or a genuflexion would weigh on his conscience like a crime. Once, after missing him for some time, we went to the door of his cell, and knocked. It was barred, and all our knocking drew no response. We broke open the door at last, and found him str

said. "I suppose it is by such suffe

he old monk. "Often he would walk up and d

g comfort h

d him in an agony of despondency in his cell, I said, 'Brother Martin, dost thou bel

llows on contrition, confession, and penance. How can I ever be sure that I have been sufficiently con

rd says He forgiveth sins, I suppose He means the sins of sinners, who sin in their confession as in everything else. My son, He is more compassionate than you think, perhaps than any of us think. At least this is my comfort; and

stion them further. To me, also, they have given a gleam of hope. And yet, if the way is not rough and difficult, and if it is n

to enter the imperial presence without the prescribed forms, would he not be driven from the

heart and life, who c

n be sure of having never failed in this? The inattention which caused the neglect w

f sins, but only for those who make adequate confession. I, alas! have not foll

here I can never be sure petitions of mine will reach him; and, alas! one day to be se

all martyrs-great father Augustine and all holy doctors, intercede for me, that

nciation of th

s, expeditions for begging, the services of the Church, and the menial offices in the house which fall to the share of novices, allow. These are not many. I have never had a Bible in my

hing oratorical in it, there are no laboured disquisiti

here was one temple wherein to worship, certain definite fea

ly place with his hands lifted up in benediction, I should have known absolutely that God was satisfied, and returned to my home in peace. Yes, to my home!

heart right? I suppose it is the conviction of this which has made the Church since then restore many minute rules and discipline, in imi

me. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son." This

t. Gregory

so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoe

ny other book, "trusteth," "has reliance" in Christ;-simply

ple as that; because, at that rate, any one who merely came to the Lord Jesus Christ in confiding trust

fide in one worthy of confidence? and w

stic orders, pilgrimages, penances, have been multiplied from century to century; for this reason saints have forsaken every earthly joy, and inflicted on themselves every poss

ferent from what it does in any secular book, and must include contrition, confession,

send this end of Ev

re I for her sake?-dare

y heart wandered? What confession can retrace the flood of

ld and an angel. I had loved her as a sister who had yet a mystery and a charm about her different from a sister. Only when it seemed that death might separate us di

l life like the woods in spring, and my heart like a full river set free

e all life into a symbol of heaven, a home which was to be peaceful and sacred as a churc

pulse I had had in the forest at midnight, and more than once since then, to take the monastic vows. I felt I was like Jonah fly

le world a blank to me: not till the sacrifice was worthless,

is whole being had become possessed by an image no prayers can erase; nay, which prayer and holy medit

did not trifle with his