PHP 8 Objects, Patterns, and Practice: Mastering

OO Enhancements, Design Patterns, and Essential

Development Tools Zandstra download

https://textbookfull.com/product/php-8-objects-patterns-and-
practice-mastering-oo-enhancements-design-patterns-and-essential-
development-tools-zandstra/

Download more ebook from https://textbookfull.com

We believe these products will be a great fit for you. Click
the link to download now, or visit textbookfull.com
to discover even more!

Biota Grow 2C gather 2C cook Loucas

https://textbookfull.com/product/biota-grow-2c-gather-2c-cook-
loucas/

Mastering PHP design patterns develop robust and

reusable code using a multitude of design patterns for
PHP 7 Ali

https://textbookfull.com/product/mastering-php-design-patterns-
develop-robust-and-reusable-code-using-a-multitude-of-design-
patterns-for-php-7-ali/

Design Patterns in PHP and Laravel 1st Edition Kelt

Dockins

https://textbookfull.com/product/design-patterns-in-php-and-
laravel-1st-edition-kelt-dockins/

MASTERING JAVASCRIPT DESIGN PATTERNS create scalable

and reliable applications with advanced Javascript
design patterns using reliable code 3rd Edition Tomas
Corral Cosas
https://textbookfull.com/product/mastering-javascript-design-
patterns-create-scalable-and-reliable-applications-with-advanced-
javascript-design-patterns-using-reliable-code-3rd-edition-tomas-
Design Patterns by Tutorials Learning design patterns
in Swift 4 2 Joshua Greene

https://textbookfull.com/product/design-patterns-by-tutorials-
learning-design-patterns-in-swift-4-2-joshua-greene/

JavaScript Patterns Build Better Applications with

Coding and Design Patterns 1st Edition Stefanov Stoyan

https://textbookfull.com/product/javascript-patterns-build-
better-applications-with-coding-and-design-patterns-1st-edition-
stefanov-stoyan/

Design Patterns by Tutorials Third Edition Learning

Design Patterns in Swift Raywenderlich Tutorial Team

https://textbookfull.com/product/design-patterns-by-tutorials-
third-edition-learning-design-patterns-in-swift-raywenderlich-
tutorial-team/

Architectural Patterns Uncover essential patterns in

the most indispensable realm of enterprise architecture
1st Edition Pethuru Raj

https://textbookfull.com/product/architectural-patterns-uncover-
essential-patterns-in-the-most-indispensable-realm-of-enterprise-
architecture-1st-edition-pethuru-raj/

Java Design Patterns A tour of 23 gang of four design

patterns in Java 1st Edition Vaskaran Sarcar

https://textbookfull.com/product/java-design-patterns-a-tour-
of-23-gang-of-four-design-patterns-in-java-1st-edition-vaskaran-
sarcar/
Matt Zandstra

PHP 8 Objects, Patterns, and Practice

Mastering OO Enhancements, Design Patterns, and
Essential Development Tools
6th ed.
Matt Zandstra
Brighton, UK

Any source code or other supplementary material referenced by the

author in this book is available to readers on GitHub via the book’s
product page, located at www.​apress.​com/​9781484267905. For more
detailed information, please visit http://​www.​apress.​com/​source-code.

ISBN 978-1-4842-6790-5 e-ISBN 978-1-4842-6791-2

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-6791-2

© Matt Zandstra 2021

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the

Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned,
specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations,
recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other
physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval,
electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar
methodology now known or hereafter developed.

The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks,

service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the
absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the
relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general
use.

The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the
advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate
at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the
material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have
been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

Distributed to the book trade worldwide by Apress Media, LLC, 1 New

York Plaza, New York, NY 10004, U.S.A. Phone 1-800-SPRINGER, fax
(201) 348-4505, e-mail [email protected], or visit
www.springeronline.com. Apress Media, LLC is a California LLC and the
sole member (owner) is Springer Science + Business Media Finance Inc
(SSBM Finance Inc). SSBM Finance Inc is a Delaware corporation.
To Louise. Still the whole point.
Introduction
When I first conceived of this book, object-oriented design in PHP was
an esoteric topic. The intervening years have not only seen the
inexorable rise of PHP as an object-oriented language but also the
march of the framework. Frameworks are incredibly useful, of course.
They manage the guts and the glue of many (perhaps, these days, most)
web applications. What’s more, they often exemplify precisely the
principles of design that this book explores.
There is, though, a danger for developers here, as there is in all
useful APIs. This is the fear that one might find oneself relegated to
userland, forced to wait for remote gurus to fix bugs or add features at
their whim. It’s a short step from this standpoint to a kind of exile in
which one is left regarding the innards of a framework as advanced
magic and one’s own work as not much more than a minor adornment
stuck up on top of a mighty unknowable infrastructure.
Although I’m an inveterate reinventor of wheels, the thrust of my
argument is not that we should all throw away our frameworks and
build MVC applications from scratch (at least not always). It is rather
that, as developers, we should understand the problems that
frameworks solve and the strategies they use to solve them. We should
be able to evaluate frameworks not only functionally but in terms of the
design decisions their creators have made and to judge the quality of
their implementations. And yes, when the conditions are right, we
should go ahead and build our own spare and focused applications and,
over time, compile our own libraries of reusable code.
I hope this book goes some way toward helping PHP developers
apply design-oriented insights to their platforms and libraries and
provides some of the conceptual tools needed when it’s time to go it
alone.
Acknowledgments
As always, I have benefited from the support of many people while
working on this edition. But as always, I must also look back to the
book’s origins. I tried out some of this book’s underlying concepts in a
talk in Brighton, back when we were all first marveling at the shiny
possibilities of PHP 5. Thanks to Andy Budd, who hosted the talk, and to
the vibrant Brighton developer community. Thanks also to Jessey
White-Cinis, who was at that meeting and who put me in touch with
Martin Streicher at Apress.
Once again, this time around, the Apress team has provided
enormous support, feedback, and encouragement. I am lucky to have
benefited from such professionalism.
I’m very lucky to have had my friend and colleague, Paul Tregoing,
working on this edition as Technical Reviewer. The fact that PHP itself
was under active development throughout the writing of this book
demanded extra vigilance. Code examples that were perfectly valid in
early drafts were rendered incorrect by the language’s fast evolution.
Once again, this edition has greatly benefited from Paul’s knowledge,
insight, and attention to detail—many thanks Paul!
Thanks and love to my wife, Louise. The production of this book has
coincided with three pandemic lockdowns, so thanks are also due to
our children, Holly and Jake, for many much-needed distractions—
often provided during Zoom meetings conducted in my office space
(the corner of the kitchen table).
Thanks to Steven Metsker for his kind permission to reimplement in
PHP a simplified version of the parser API he presented in his book,
Building Parsers with Java (Addison-Wesley Professional, 2001).
I write to music, and, in previous editions of this book, I
remembered the great DJ, John Peel, champion of the underground and
the eclectic. The soundtrack for this edition was largely provided by
BBC Radio 3’s contemporary music show, Late Junction, played on a
loop. Thanks to them for keeping things weird.
Table of Contents
Part I: Objects
Chapter 1:​PHP:​Design and Management
The Problem
PHP and Other Languages
About This Book
Objects
Patterns
Practice
What’s New in the Sixth Edition
Summary
Chapter 2:​PHP and Objects
The Accidental Success of PHP Objects
In the Beginning:​PHP/​FI
Syntactic Sugar:​PHP 3
PHP 4 and the Quiet Revolution
Change Embraced:​PHP 5
PHP 7:​Closing the Gap
PHP 8:​The Consolidation Continues
Advocacy and Agnosticism:​The Object Debate
Summary
Chapter 3:​Object Basics
Classes and Objects
A First Class
A First Object (or Two)
Setting Properties in a Class
 Working with Methods
Creating a Constructor Method
Constructor Property Promotion
Default Arguments and Named Arguments
Arguments and Types
Primitive Types
Some Other Type-Checking Functions
Type Declarations:​Object Types
Type Declarations:​Primitive Types
mixed Types
Union Types
Nullable Types
Return Type Declarations
Inheritance
The Inheritance Problem
Working with Inheritance
Public, Private, and Protected:​Managing Access to Your
Classes
Typed Properties
Summary
Chapter 4:​Advanced Features
Static Methods and Properties
Constant Properties
Abstract Classes
Interfaces
Traits
 A Problem for Traits to Solve
Defining and Using a Trait
Using More Than One Trait
Combining Traits and Interfaces
Managing Method Name Conflicts with insteadof
Aliasing Overridden Trait Methods
Using Static Methods in Traits
Accessing Host Class Properties
Defining Abstract Methods in Traits
Changing Access Rights to Trait Methods
Late Static Bindings:​The static Keyword
Handling Errors
Exceptions
Final Classes and Methods
The Internal Error Class
Working with Interceptors
Defining Destructor Methods
Copying Objects with _​_​clone( )
Defining String Values for Your Objects
Callbacks, Anonymous Functions, and Closures
Anonymous Classes
Summary
Chapter 5:​Object Tools
PHP and Packages
PHP Packages and Namespaces
Autoload
 The Class and Object Functions
Looking for Classes
Learning About an Object or Class
Getting a Fully Qualified String Reference to a Class
Learning About Methods
Learning About Properties
Learning About Inheritance
Method Invocation
The Reflection API
Getting Started
Time to Roll Up Your Sleeves
Examining a Class
Examining Methods
Examining Method Arguments
Using the Reflection API
Attributes
Summary
Chapter 6:​Objects and Design
Defining Code Design
Object-Oriented and Procedural Programming
Responsibility
Cohesion
Coupling
Orthogonality
Choosing Your Classes
Polymorphism
 Encapsulation
Forget How to Do It
Four Signposts
Code Duplication
The Class Who Knew Too Much
The Jack of All Trades
Conditional Statements
The UML
Class Diagrams
Sequence Diagrams
Summary
Part II: Patterns
Chapter 7:​What Are Design Patterns?​Why Use Them?​
What Are Design Patterns?​
A Design Pattern Overview
Name
The Problem
The Solution
Consequences
The Gang of Four Format
Why Use Design Patterns?​
A Design Pattern Defines a Problem
A Design Pattern Defines a Solution
Design Patterns Are Language Independent
Patterns Define a Vocabulary
Patterns Are Tried and Tested
 Patterns Are Designed for Collaboration
Design Patterns Promote Good Design
Design Patterns Are Used by Popular Frameworks
PHP and Design Patterns
Summary
Chapter 8:​Some Pattern Principles
The Pattern Revelation
Composition and Inheritance
The Problem
Using Composition
Decoupling
The Problem
Loosening Your Coupling
Code to an Interface, Not to an Implementation
The Concept That Varies
Patternitis
The Patterns
Patterns for Generating Objects
Patterns for Organizing Objects and Classes
Task-Oriented Patterns
Enterprise Patterns
Database Patterns
Summary
Chapter 9:​Generating Objects
Problems and Solutions in Generating Objects
The Singleton Pattern
 The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Factory Method Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Abstract Factory Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Prototype
The Problem
Implementation
Pushing to the Edge:​Service Locator
Splendid Isolation:​Dependency Injection
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Summary
Chapter 10:​Patterns for Flexible Object Programming
Structuring Classes to Allow Flexible Objects
The Composite Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
 Composite in Summary
The Decorator Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
The Facade Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Summary
Chapter 11:​Performing and Representing Tasks
The Interpreter Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Interpreter Issues
The Strategy Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
The Observer Pattern
Implementation
The Visitor Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Visitor Issues
The Command Pattern
The Problem
 Implementation
The Null Object Pattern
The Problem
Implementation
Summary
Chapter 12:​Enterprise Patterns
Architecture Overview
The Patterns
Applications and Layers
Cheating Before We Start
Registry
Implementation
The Presentation Layer
Front Controller
Application Controller
Page Controller
Template View and View Helper
The Business Logic Layer
Transaction Script
Domain Model
Summary
Chapter 13:​Database Patterns
The Data Layer
Data Mapper
The Problem
Implementation
 Consequences
Identity Map
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Unit of Work
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Lazy Load
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
Domain Object Factory
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
The Identity Object
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
The Selection Factory and Update Factory Patterns
The Problem
Implementation
Consequences
What’s Left of Data Mapper Now?​
 Summary
Part III: Practice
Chapter 14:​Good (and Bad) Practice
Beyond Code
Borrowing a Wheel
Playing Nice
Giving Your Code Wings
Standards
Vagrant
Testing
Continuous Integration
Summary
Chapter 15:​PHP Standards
Why Standards?​
What Are PHP Standards Recommendations?​
Why PSR in Particular?​
Who Are PSRs for?​
Coding with Style
PSR-1 Basic Coding Standard
PSR-12 Extended Coding Style
Checking and Fixing Your Code
PSR-4 Autoloading
The Rules That Matter to Us
Summary
Chapter 16:​PHP Using and Creating Components with Composer
What Is Composer?​
 Installing Composer
Installing a (Set of) Package(s)
Installing a Package from the Command Line
Versions
require-dev
Composer and Autoload
Creating Your Own Package
Adding Package Information
Platform Packages
Distribution Through Packagist
Keeping It Private
Summary
Chapter 17:​Version Control with Git
Why Use Version Control?​
Getting Git
Using an Online Git Repository
Configuring a Git Server
Creating the Remote Repository
Beginning a Project
Cloning the Repository
Updating and Committing
Adding and Removing Files and Directories
Adding a File
Removing a File
Adding a Directory
Removing Directories
 Tagging a Release
Branching a Project
Summary
Chapter 18:​Testing with PHPUnit
Functional Tests and Unit Tests
Testing by Hand
Introducing PHPUnit
Creating a Test Case
Assertion Methods
Testing Exceptions
Running Test Suites
Constraints
Mocks and Stubs
Tests Succeed When They Fail
Writing Web Tests
Refactoring a Web Application for Testing
Simple Web Testing
Introducing Selenium
A Note of Caution
Summary
Chapter 19:​Automated Build with Phing
What Is Phing?​
Getting and Installing Phing
Composing the Build Document
Targets
Properties
 Types
Tasks
Summary
Chapter 20:​Vagrant
The Problem
A Little Setup
Choosing and Installing a Vagrant Box
Mounting Local Directories on the Vagrant Box
Provisioning
Setting Up the Web Server
Setting Up MariaDB
Configuring a Hostname
Wrapping It Up
Summary
Chapter 21:​Continuous Integration
What Is Continuous Integration?​
Preparing a Project for CI
Installing Jenkins Plug-ins
Setting Up the Git Public Key
Installing a Project
Running the First Build
Configuring the Reports
Triggering Builds
Summary
Chapter 22:​Objects, Patterns, Practice
Objects
 Choice
Encapsulation and Delegation
Decoupling
Reusability
Aesthetics
Patterns
What Patterns Buy Us
Patterns and Principles of Design
Practice
Testing
Standards
Version Control
Automated Build
Continuous Integration
What I Missed
Summary
Appendix A:​Bibliography
Books
Articles
Sites
Appendix B:​A Simple Parser
The Scanner
The Parser
Index
About the Author
Matt Zandstra
has worked as a web programmer, consultant, and writer for over two
decades. He is the author of SAMS Teach Yourself PHP in 24 Hours (three
editions) and is a contributor to DHTML Unleashed. He has written
articles for Linux Magazine, Zend, IBM DeveloperWorks, and
php|architect magazine, among others. Matt was a senior
developer/tech lead at Yahoo! and API tech lead at LoveCrafts. Matt
works as a consultant advising companies on their architectures and
system management and also develops systems primarily with PHP and
Java. Matt also writes fiction.
About the Technical Reviewer
Paul Tregoing
has worked in ops and development in a
variety of environments for nearly 20
years. He worked at Yahoo! for 5 years as
a senior developer on the frontpage
team; there he generated his first PHP
using Perl. Other employers include
Bloomberg, Schlumberger, and the
British Antarctic Survey, where he
became intimate with thousands of
penguins.
He now works as a freelance
engineer for various clients, small and
large, building multitiered web apps
using PHP, JavaScript, and many other
technologies. Paul is a voracious
consumer of science fiction and fantasy
and harbors not-so-secret ambitions to try his hand at writing in the
near future. He lives in Cambridge, United Kingdom, with his wife and
children.
Part I
Objects
© Matt Zandstra 2021
M. Zandstra, PHP 8 Objects, Patterns, and Practice
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-6791-2_1

1. PHP: Design and Management

Matt Zandstra1
(1) Brighton, UK

In July 2004, PHP 5.0 was released. This version introduced a suite of
radical enhancements. Perhaps first among these was radically
improved support for object-oriented programming. This stimulated
much interest in objects and design within the PHP community. In fact,
this was an intensification of a process that began when version 4 first
made object-oriented programming with PHP a serious reality.
In this chapter, I look at some of the needs that coding with objects
can address. I very briefly summarize some aspects of the evolution of
patterns and related practices.
I also outline the topics covered by this book. I will look at the
following:
The evolution of disaster: A project goes bad
Design and PHP: How object-oriented design techniques took root
in the PHP community
This book: Objects, Patterns, Practice

The Problem
The problem is that PHP is just too easy. It tempts you to try out your
ideas and flatters you with good results. You write much of your code
straight into your web pages, because PHP is designed to support that.
You add utility functions (such as database access code) to files that can
be included from page to page, and before you know it, you have a
working web application.
 You are well on the road to ruin. You don’t realize this, of course,
because your site looks fantastic. It performs well, your clients are
happy, and your users are spending money.
Trouble strikes when you go back to the code to begin a new phase.
Now you have a larger team, some more users, and a bigger budget. Yet,
without warning, things begin to go wrong. It’s as if your project has
been poisoned.
Your new programmer is struggling to understand code that is
second nature to you, although perhaps a little byzantine in its twists
and turns. She is taking longer than you expected to reach full strength
as a team member.
A simple change, estimated at a day, takes three days when you
discover that you must update 20 or more web pages as a result.
One of your coders saves his version of a file over major changes
you made to the same code some time earlier. The loss is not discovered
for three days, by which time you have amended your own local copy. It
takes a day to sort out the mess, holding up a third developer who was
also working on the file.
Because of the application’s popularity, you need to shift the code to
a new server. The project has to be installed by hand, and you discover
that file paths, database names, and passwords are hard-coded into
many source files. You halt work during the move because you don’t
want to overwrite the configuration changes the migration requires.
The estimated two hours becomes eight as it is revealed that someone
did something clever involving the Apache module ModRewrite, and
the application now requires this to operate properly.
You finally launch phase 2. All is well for a day and a half. The first
bug report comes in as you are about to leave the office. The client
phones minutes later to complain. Her report is similar to the first, but
a little more scrutiny reveals that it is a different bug causing similar
behavior. You remember the simple change back at the start of the
phase that necessitated extensive modifications throughout the rest of
the project.
You realize that not all of the required modifications are in place.
This is either because they were omitted to start with or because the
files in question were overwritten in merge collisions. You hurriedly
make the modifications needed to fix the bugs. You’re in too much of a
hurry to test the changes, but they are a simple matter of copy and
paste, so what can go wrong?
The next morning, you arrive at the office to find that a shopping
basket module has been down all night. The last-minute changes you
made omitted a leading quotation mark, rendering the code unusable.
Of course, while you were asleep, potential customers in other time
zones were wide awake and ready to spend money at your store. You fix
the problem, mollify the client, and gather the team for another day’s
firefighting.
This everyday tale of coding folk may seem a little over the top, but I
have seen all these things happen over and over again. Many PHP
projects start their life small and evolve into monsters.
Because the presentation layer also contains application logic,
duplication creeps in early as database queries, authentication checks,
form processing, and more are copied from page to page. Every time a
change is required to one of these blocks of code, it must be made
everywhere that the code is found, or bugs will surely follow.
Lack of documentation makes the code hard to read, and lack of
testing allows obscure bugs to go undiscovered until deployment. The
changing nature of a client’s business often means that code evolves
away from its original purpose until it is performing tasks for which it
is fundamentally unsuited. Because such code has often evolved as a
seething, intermingled lump, it is hard, if not impossible, to switch out
and rewrite parts of it to suit the new purpose.
Now, none of this is bad news if you are a freelance PHP consultant.
Assessing and fixing a system like this can fund expensive espresso
drinks and DVD box sets for six months or more. More seriously,
though, problems of this sort can mean the difference between a
business’s success and failure.

PHP and Other Languages

PHP’s phenomenal popularity meant that its boundaries were tested
early and hard. As you will see in the next chapter, PHP started life as a
set of macros for managing personal home pages. With the advent of
PHP 3 and, to a greater extent, PHP 4, the language rapidly became the
successful power behind large enterprise websites. In many ways,
however, the legacy of PHP’s beginnings carried through into script
design and project management. In some quarters, PHP retained an
unfair reputation as a hobbyist language, best suited for presentation
tasks.
About this time (around the turn of the millennium), new ideas
were gaining currency in other coding communities. An interest in
object-oriented design galvanized the Java community. Since Java is an
object-oriented language, you may think that this is a redundancy. Java
provides a grain that is easier to work with than against, of course, but
using classes and objects does not in itself determine a particular
design approach.
The concept of the design pattern as a way of describing a problem,
together with the essence of its solution, was first discussed in the
1970s. Perhaps aptly, the idea originated in the field of architecture, not
computer science, in a seminal work by Christopher Alexander: A
Pattern Language (Oxford University Press, 1977). By the early 1990s,
object-oriented programmers were using the same technique to name
and describe problems of software design. The seminal book on design
patterns, Design Patterns: Elements of Reusable Object-Oriented
Software (Addison-Wesley Professional, 1995), by Erich Gamma,
Richard Helm, Ralph Johnson, and John Vlissides (henceforth referred
to in this book by their affectionate nickname, the Gang of Four), is still
indispensable today. The patterns it contains are a required first step
for anyone starting out in this field, which is why most of the patterns
in this book are drawn from it.
The Java language itself deployed many core patterns in its API, but
it wasn’t until the late 1990s that design patterns seeped into the
consciousness of the coding community at large. Patterns quickly
infected the computer sections of Main Street bookstores, and the first
flame wars began on mailing lists and in forums.
Whether you think that patterns are a powerful way of
communicating craft knowledge or largely hot air (and, given the title of
this book, you can probably guess where I stand on that issue), it is
hard to deny that the emphasis on software design they have
encouraged is beneficial in itself.
Related topics also grew in prominence. Among them was Extreme
Programming (XP), championed by Kent Beck. XP is an approach to
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
 CHAPTER XIII

THE MONK AND THE CAVALIER

Father Antonio had been down through the streets of the old
town of Sorrento, searching for the young stonecutter, and finding
him had spent some time in enlightening him as to the details of the
work he wished him to execute.
He found him not so easily kindled into devotional fervors as he
had fondly imagined, nor could all his most devout exhortations
produce one quarter of the effect upon him that resulted from the
discovery that it was the fair Agnes who originated the design and
was interested in its execution. Then did the large black eyes of the
youth kindle into something of sympathetic fervor, and he willingly
promised to do his very best at the carving.
"I used to know the fair Agnes well, years ago," he said, "but of
late she will not even look at me; yet I worship her none the less.
Who can help it that sees her? I don't think she is so hard-hearted
as she seems; but her grandmother and the priests won't so much
as allow her to lift up her eyes when one of us young fellows goes
by. Twice these five years past have I seen her eyes, and then it was
when I contrived to get near the holy water when there was a press
round it of a saint's day, and I reached some to her on my finger,
and then she smiled upon me and thanked me. Those two smiles
are all I have had to live on for all this time. Perhaps, if I work very
well, she will give me another, and perhaps she will say, 'Thank you,
my good Pietro!' as she used to, when I brought her birds' eggs or
helped her across the ravine, years ago."
 "Well, my brave boy, do your best," said the monk, "and let the
shrine be of the fairest white marble. I will be answerable for the
expense; I will beg it of those who have substance."
"So please you, holy father," said Pietro, "I know of a spot, a little
below here on the coast, where was a heathen temple in the old
days; and one can dig therefrom long pieces of fair white marble, all
covered with heathen images. I know not whether your Reverence
would think them fit for Christian purposes."
"So much the better, boy! so much the better!" said the monk,
heartily. "Only let the marble be fine and white, and it is as good as
converting a heathen any time to baptize it to Christian uses. A few
strokes of the chisel will soon demolish their naked nymphs and
other such rubbish, and we can carve holy virgins, robed from head
to foot in all modesty, as becometh saints."
"I will get my boat and go down this very afternoon," said Pietro;
"and, sir, I hope I am not making too bold in asking you, when you
see the fair Agnes, to present unto her this lily, in memorial of her
old playfellow."
"That I will, my boy! And now I think of it, she spoke kindly of
you as one that had been a companion in her childhood, but said
her grandmother would not allow her to speak to you now."
"Ah, that is it!" said Pietro. "Old Elsie is a fierce old kite, with
strong beak and long claws, and will not let the poor girl have any
good of her youth. Some say she means to marry her to some rich
old man, and some say she will shut her up in a convent, which I
should say was a sore hurt and loss to the world. There are a plenty
of women, whom nobody wants to look at, for that sort of work; and
a beautiful face is a kind of psalm which makes one want to be
good."
"Well, well, my boy, work well and faithfully for the saints on this
shrine, and I dare promise you many a smile from this fair maiden;
for her heart is set upon the glory of God and his saints, and she will
smile on any one who helps on the good work. I shall look in on you
daily for a time, till I see the work well started."
So saying, the old monk took his leave. Just as he was passing
out of the house, some one brushed rapidly by him, going down the
street. As he passed, the quick eye of the monk recognized the
cavalier whom he had seen in the garden but a few evenings before.
It was not a face and form easily forgotten, and the monk followed
him at a little distance behind, resolving, if he saw him turn in
anywhere, to follow and crave an audience of him.
Accordingly, as he saw the cavalier entering under the low arch
that led to his hotel, he stepped up and addressed him with a
gesture of benediction.
"God bless you, my son!"
"What would you with me, father?" said the cavalier, with a hasty
and somewhat suspicious glance.
"I would that you would give me an audience of a few moments
on some matters of importance," said the monk, mildly.
The tones of his voice seemed to have excited some vague
remembrance in the mind of the cavalier; for he eyed him narrowly,
and seemed trying to recollect where he had seen him before.
Suddenly a light appeared to flash upon his mind; for his whole
manner became at once more cordial.
"My good father," he said, "my poor lodging and leisure are at
your service for any communication you may see fit to make."
So saying, he led the way up the damp, ill-smelling stone
staircase, and opened the door of the deserted room where we have
seen him once before. Closing the door, and seating himself at the
one rickety table which the room afforded, he motioned to the monk
to be seated also; then taking off his plumed hat, he threw it
negligently on the table beside him, and passing his white, finely
formed hand through the black curls of his hair, he tossed them
carelessly from his forehead, and, leaning his chin in the hollow of
his hand, fixed his glittering eyes on the monk in a manner that
seemed to demand his errand.
"My Lord," said the monk, in those gentle, conciliating tones
which were natural to him, "I would ask a little help of you in regard
of a Christian undertaking which I have here in hand. The dear Lord
hath put it into the heart of a pious young maid of this vicinity to
erect a shrine to the honor of our Lady and her dear Son in this
gorge of Sorrento, hard by. It is a gloomy place in the night, and
hath been said to be haunted by evil spirits; and my fair niece, who
is full of all holy thoughts, desired me to draw the plan for this
shrine, and, so far as my poor skill may go, I have done so. See,
here, my Lord, are the drawings."
The monk laid them down on the table, his pale cheek flushing
with a faint glow of artistic enthusiasm and pride, as he explained to
the young man the plan and drawings.
The cavalier listened courteously, but without much apparent
interest, till the monk drew from his portfolio a paper and said,—
"This, my Lord, is my poor and feeble conception of the most
sacred form of our Lady, which I am to paint for the centre of the
shrine."
He laid down the paper, and the cavalier, with a sudden
exclamation, snatched it up, looking at it eagerly.
"It is she!" he said; "it is her very self!—the divine Agnes,—the
lily flower,—the sweet star,—the only one among women!"
"I see you have recognized the likeness," said the monk,
blushing. "I know it hath been thought a practice of doubtful
edification to represent holy things under the image of aught
earthly; but when any mortal seems especially gifted with a
heavenly spirit outshining in the face, it may be that our Lady
chooses that person to reveal herself in."
The cavalier was gazing so intently on the picture that he
scarcely heard the apology of the monk; he held it up, and seemed
to study it with a long admiring gaze.
"You have great skill with your pencil, my father," he said; "one
would not look for such things from under a monk's hood."
"I belong to the San Marco in Florence, of which you may have
heard," said Father Antonio, "and am an unworthy disciple of the
traditions of the blessed Angelico, whose visions of heavenly things
are ever before us; and no less am I a disciple of the renowned
Savonarola, of whose fame all Italy hath heard before now."
"Savonarola?" said the other, with eagerness,—"he that makes
these vile miscreants that call themselves Pope and cardinals
tremble? All Italy, all Christendom, is groaning and stretching out the
hand to him to free them from these abominations. My father, tell
me of Savonarola: how goes he, and what success hath he?"
"My son, it is now many months since I left Florence; since which
time I have been sojourning in by-places, repairing shrines and
teaching the poor of the Lord's flock, who are scattered and
neglected by the idle shepherds, who think only to eat the flesh and
warm themselves with the fleece of the sheep for whom the Good
Shepherd gave his life. My duties have been humble and quiet; for it
is not given to me to wield the sword of rebuke and controversy, like
my great master."
"And you have not heard, then," said the cavalier, eagerly, "that
they have excommunicated him?"
"I knew that was threatened," said the monk, "but I did not think
it possible that it could befall a man of such shining holiness of life,
so signally and openly owned of God that the very gifts of the first
Apostles seem revived in him."
"Does not Satan always hate the Lord?" said the cavalier.
"Alexander and his councils are possessed of the Devil, if ever men
were,—and are sealed as his children by every abominable
wickedness. The Devil sits in Christ's seat, and hath stolen his
signet-ring, to seal decrees against the Lord's own followers. What
are Christian men to do in such case?"
 The monk sighed and looked troubled.
"It is hard to say," he answered. "So much I know,—that before I
left Florence our master wrote to the King of France touching the
dreadful state of things at Rome, and tried to stir him up to call a
general council of the Church. I much fear me this letter may have
fallen into the hands of the Pope."
"I tell you, father," said the young man, starting up and laying his
hand on his sword, "we must fight! It is the sword that must decide
this matter! Was not the Holy Sepulchre saved from the Infidels by
the sword?—and once more the sword must save the Holy City from
worse infidels than the Turks. If such doings as these are allowed in
the Holy City, another generation there will be no Christians left on
earth. Alexander and Cæsar Borgia and the Lady Lucrezia are
enough to drive religion from the world. They make us long to go
back to the traditions of our Roman fathers,—who were men of
cleanly and honorable lives and of heroic deeds, scorning bribery
and deceit. They honored God by noble lives, little as they knew of
Him. But these men are a shame to the mothers that bore them."
"You speak too truly, my son," said the monk. "Alas! the creation
groaneth and travaileth in pain with these things. Many a time and
oft have I seen our master groaning and wrestling with God on this
account. For it is to small purpose that we have gone through Italy
preaching and stirring up the people to more holy lives, when from
the very hill of Zion, the height of the sanctuary, come down these
streams of pollution. It seems as if the time had come that the world
could bear it no longer."
"Well, if it come to the trial of the sword, as come it must," said
the cavalier, "say to your master that Agostino Sarelli has a band of
one hundred tried men and an impregnable fastness in the
mountains, where he may take refuge, and where they will gladly
hear the Word of God from pure lips. They call us robbers,—us who
have gone out from the assembly of robbers, that we might lead
honest and cleanly lives. There is not one among us that hath not
lost houses, lands, brothers, parents, children, or friends through
their treacherous cruelty. There be those whose wives and sisters
have been forced into the Borgia harem; there be those whose
children have been tortured before their eyes,—those who have seen
the fairest and dearest slaughtered by these hell-hounds, who yet sit
in the seat of the Lord and give decrees in the name of Christ. Is
there a God? If there be, why is He silent?"
"Yea, my son, there is a God," said the monk; "but His ways are
not as ours. A thousand years in His sight are but as yesterday, as a
watch in the night. He shall come, and shall not keep silence."
"Perhaps you do not know, father," said the young man, "that I,
too, am excommunicated. I am excommunicated, because, Cæsar
Borgia having killed my oldest brother, and dishonored and slain my
sister, and seized on all our possessions, and the Pope having
protected and confirmed him therein, I declare the Pope to be not of
God, but of the Devil. I will not submit to him, nor be ruled by him;
and I and my fellows will make good our mountains against him and
his crew with such right arms as the good Lord hath given us."
"The Lord be with you, my son!" said the monk; "and the Lord
bring His Church out of these deep waters! Surely, it is a lovely and
beautiful Church, made dear and precious by innumerable saints and
martyrs who have given their sweet lives up willingly for it; and it is
full of records of righteousness, of prayers and alms and works of
mercy that have made even the very dust of our Italy precious and
holy. Why hast Thou abandoned this vine of Thy planting, O Lord?
The boar out of the wood doth waste it; the wild beast of the field
doth devour it. Return, we beseech Thee, and visit this vine of Thy
planting!"
The monk clasped his hands and looked upward pleadingly, the
tears running down his wasted cheeks. Ah, many such strivings and
prayers in those days went up from silent hearts in obscure
solitudes, that wrestled and groaned under that mighty burden
which Luther at last received strength to heave from the heart of the
Church.
 "Then, father, you do admit that one may be banned by the
Pope, and may utterly refuse and disown him, and yet be a
Christian?"
"How can I otherwise?" said the monk. "Do I not see the greatest
saint this age or any age has ever seen under the excommunication
of the greatest sinner? Only, my son, let me warn you. Become not
irreverent to the true Church, because of a false usurper. Reverence
the sacraments, the hymns, the prayers all the more for this sad
condition in which you stand. What teacher is more faithful in these
respects than my master? Who hath more zeal for our blessed Lord
Jesus, and a more living faith in Him? Who hath a more filial love
and tenderness towards our blessed Mother? Who hath more
reverent communion with all the saints than he? Truly, he sometimes
seems to me to walk encompassed by all the armies of heaven,—
such a power goes forth in his words, and such a holiness in his life."
"Ah," said Agostino, "would I had such a confessor! The
sacraments might once more have power for me, and I might
cleanse my soul from unbelief."
"Dear son," said the monk, "accept a most unworthy, but sincere
follower of this holy prophet, who yearns for thy salvation. Let me
have the happiness of granting to thee the sacraments of the
Church, which, doubtless, are thine by right as one of the flock of
the Lord Jesus. Come to me some day this week in confession, and
thereafter thou shalt receive the Lord within thee, and be once more
united to Him."
"My good father," said the young man, grasping his hand, and
much affected, "I will come. Your words have done me good; but I
must think more of them. I will come soon; but these things cannot
be done without pondering; it will take some time to bring my heart
into charity with all men."
The monk rose up to depart, and began to gather up his
drawings.
 "For this matter, father," said the cavalier, throwing several gold
pieces upon the table, "take these, and as many more as you need
ask for your good work. I would willingly pay any sum," he added,
while a faint blush rose to his cheek, "if you would give me a copy of
this. Gold would be nothing in comparison with it."
"My son," said the monk, smiling, "would it be to thee an image
of an earthly or a heavenly love?"
"Of both, father," said the young man. "For that dear face has
been more to me than prayer or hymn; it has been even as a
sacrament to me, and through it I know not what of holy and
heavenly influences have come to me."
"Said I not well," said the monk, exulting, "that there were those
on whom our Mother shed such grace that their very beauty led
heavenward? Such are they whom the artist looks for, when he
would adorn a shrine where the faithful shall worship. Well, my son,
I must use my poor art for you; and as for gold, we of our convent
take it not except for the adorning of holy things, such as this
shrine."
"How soon shall it be done?" said the young man, eagerly.
"Patience, patience, my Lord! Rome was not built in a day, and
our art must work by slow touches; but I will do my best. But
wherefore, my Lord, cherish this image?"
"Father, are you of near kin to this maid?"
"I am her grandmother's only brother."
"Then I say to you, as the nearest of her male kin, that I seek
this maid in pure and honorable marriage; and she hath given me
her promise, that, if ever she be wife of mortal man, she will be
mine."
"But she looks not to be wife of any man," said the monk; "so, at
least, I have heard her say; though her grandmother would fain
marry her to a husband of her choosing. 'T is a willful woman, is my
sister Elsie, and a worldly,—not easy to persuade, and impossible to
drive."
"And she hath chosen for this fair angel some base peasant churl
who will have no sense of her exceeding loveliness? By the saints, if
it come to this, I will carry her away with the strong arm!"
"That is not to be apprehended just at present. Sister Elsie is
dotingly fond of the girl, which hath slept in her bosom since
infancy."
"And why should I not demand her in marriage of your sister?"
said the young man.
"My Lord, you are an excommunicated man, and she would have
horror of you. It is impossible; it would not be to edification to make
the common people judges in such matters. It is safest to let their
faith rest undisturbed, and that they be not taught to despise
ecclesiastical censures. This could not be explained to Elsie; she
would drive you from her doors with her distaff, and you would
scarce wish to put your sword against it. Besides, my Lord, if you
were not excommunicated, you are of noble blood, and this alone
would be a fatal objection with my sister, who hath sworn on the
holy cross that Agnes shall never love one of your race."
"What is the cause of this hatred?"
"Some foul wrong which a noble did her mother," said the monk;
"for Agnes is of gentle blood on her father's side."
"I might have known it," said the cavalier to himself; "her words
and ways are unlike anything in her class. Father," he added,
touching his sword, "we soldiers are fond of cutting all Gordian
knots, whether of love or religion, with this. The sword, father, is the
best theologian, the best casuist. The sword rights wrongs and
punishes evil doers, and some day the sword may cut the way out of
this embarrass also."
"Gently, my son! gently!" said the monk; "nothing is lost by
patience. See how long it takes the good Lord to make a fair flower
out of a little seed; and He does all quietly, without bluster. Wait on
Him a little in peacefulness and prayer, and see what He will do for
thee."
"Perhaps you are right, my father," said the cavalier, cordially.
"Your counsels have done me good, and I shall seek them further.
But do not let them terrify my poor Agnes with dreadful stories of
the excommunication that hath befallen me. The dear saint is
breaking her good little heart for my sins, and her confessor
evidently hath forbidden her to speak to me or look at me. If her
heart were left to itself, it would fly to me like a little tame bird, and
I would cherish it forever; but now she sees sin in every innocent,
womanly thought,—poor little dear child-angel that she is!"
"Her confessor is a Franciscan," said the monk, who, good as he
was, could not escape entirely from the ruling prejudice of his order,
"and from what I know of him, I should think might be unskillful in
what pertaineth to the nursing of so delicate a lamb. It is not every
one to whom is given the gift of rightly directing souls."
"I'd like to carry her off from him!" said the cavalier, between his
teeth. "I will, too, if he is not careful!" Then he added aloud, "Father,
Agnes is mine,—mine by the right of the truest worship and devotion
that man could ever pay to woman,—mine because she loves me.
For I know she loves me; I know it far better than she knows it
herself, the dear, innocent child! and I will not have her torn from
me to waste her life in a lonely, barren convent, or to be the wife of
a stolid peasant. I am a man of my word, and I will vindicate my
right to her in the face of God and man."
"Well, well, my son, as I said before, patience,—one thing at a
time. Let us say our prayers and sleep to-night, to begin with, and
to-morrow will bring us fresh counsel."
"Well, my father, you will be for me in this matter?" said the
young man.
"My son, I wish you all happiness; and if this be for your best
good and that of my dear niece, I wish it. But, as I said, there must
be time and patience. The way must be made clear. I will see how
the case stands; and you may be sure, when I can in good
conscience, I will befriend you."
"Thank you, my father, thank you!" said the young man, bending
his knee to receive the monk's parting benediction.
"It seems to me not best," said the monk, turning once more, as
he was leaving the threshold, "that you should come to me at
present where I am,—it would only raise a storm that I could not
allay; and so great would be the power of the forces they might
bring to bear on the child, that her little heart might break and the
saints claim her too soon."
"Well, then, father, come hither to me to-morrow at this same
hour, if I be not too unworthy of your pastoral care."
"I shall be too happy, my son," said the monk. "So be it."
And he turned from the door just as the bell of the cathedral
struck the Ave Maria, and all in the street bowed in the evening act
of worship.
 CHAPTER XIV

THE MONK'S STRUGGLE

The golden sunshine of the spring morning was deadened to a

sombre tone in the shadowy courts of the Capuchin convent. The
reddish brown of the walls was flecked with gold and orange spots
of lichen; and here and there, in crevices, tufts of grass, or even a
little bunch of gold-blooming flowers, looked hardily forth into the
shadowy air. A covered walk, with stone arches, inclosed a square
filled with dusky shrubbery. There were tall, funereal cypresses,
whose immense height and scraggy profusion of decaying branches
showed their extreme old age. There were gaunt, gnarled olives,
with trunks twisted in immense serpent folds, and boughs wreathed
and knotted into wild, unnatural contractions, as if their growth had
been a series of spasmodic convulsions, instead of a calm and gentle
development of Nature. There were overgrown clumps of aloes, with
the bare skeletons of former flower-stalks standing erect among
their dusky horns or lying rotting on the ground beside them. The
place had evidently been intended for the culture of shrubbery and
flowers, but the growth of the trees had long since so intercepted
the sunlight and fresh air that not even grass could find root
beneath their branches. The ground was covered with a damp green
mould, strewn here and there with dead boughs, or patched with
tufts of fern and lycopodium, throwing out their green hairy roots
into the moist soil. A few half-dead roses and jasmines, remnants of
former days of flowers, still maintained a struggling existence, but
looked wan and discouraged in the effort, and seemed to stretch and
pine vaguely for a freer air. In fact, the whole garden might be
looked upon as a sort of symbol of the life by which it was
surrounded,—a life stagnant, unnatural, and unhealthy, cut off from
all those thousand stimulants to wholesome development which are
afforded by the open plain of human existence, where strong
natures grow distorted in unnatural efforts, though weaker ones find
in its lowly shadows a congenial refuge.
We have given the brighter side of conventual life in the days we
are describing: we have shown it as often a needed shelter of
woman's helplessness during ages of political uncertainty and
revolution; we have shown it as the congenial retreat where the
artist, the poet, the student, and the man devoted to ideas found
leisure undisturbed to develop themselves under the consecrating
protection of religion. The picture would be unjust to truth, did we
not recognize, what, from our knowledge of human nature, we must
expect, a conventual life of far less elevated and refined order. We
should expect that institutions which guaranteed to each individual a
livelihood, without the necessity of physical labor or the
responsibility of supporting a family, might in time come to be
incumbered with many votaries in whom indolence and
improvidence were the only impelling motives. In all ages of the
world the unspiritual are the majority,—the spiritual the exceptions.
It was to the multitude that Jesus said, "Ye seek me not because ye
saw the miracles, but because ye did eat and were filled,"—and the
multitude has been much of the same mind from that day to this.
The convent of which we speak had been for some years under
the lenient rule of the jolly Brother Girolamo,—an easy, wide-spread,
loosely organized body, whose views of the purpose of human
existence were decidedly Anacreontic. Fasts he abominated,—night-
prayers he found unfavorable to his constitution; but he was a judge
of olives and good wine, and often threw out valuable hints in his
pastoral visits on the cooking of macaroni, for which he had himself
elaborated a savory recipe; and the cellar and larder of the convent,
during his pastorate, presented so many urgent solicitations to
conventual repose, as to threaten an inconvenient increase in the
number of others. The monks in his time lounged in all the sunny
places of the convent like so many loose sacks of meal, enjoying to
the full the dolce far niente which seems to be the universal rule of
Southern climates. They ate and drank and slept and snored; they
made pastoral visits through the surrounding community which were
far from edifying; they gambled, and tippled, and sang most
unspiritual songs; and keeping all the while their own private pass-
key to Paradise tucked under their girdles, were about as jolly a set
of sailors to Eternity as the world had to show. In fact, the climate of
Southern Italy and its gorgeous scenery are more favorable to
voluptuous ecstasy than to the severe and grave warfare of the true
Christian soldier. The sunny plains of Capua demoralized the soldiers
of Hannibal, and it was not without a reason that ancient poets
made those lovely regions the abode of Sirens whose song
maddened by its sweetness, and of a Circe who made men drunk
with her sensual fascinations, till they became sunk to the form of
brutes. Here, if anywhere, is the lotos-eater's paradise,—the purple
skies, the enchanted shores, the soothing gales, the dreamy mists,
which all conspire to melt the energy of the will, and to make
existence either a half doze of dreamy apathy or an awaking of mad
delirium.
It was not from dreamy, voluptuous Southern Italy that the
religious progress of the Italian race received any vigorous impulses.
These came from more northern and more mountainous regions,
from the severe, clear heights of Florence, Perugia, and Assisi,
where the intellectual and the moral both had somewhat of the old
Etruscan earnestness and gloom.
One may easily imagine the stupid alarm and helpless confusion
of these easy-going monks, when their new Superior came down
among them hissing with a white heat from the very hottest furnace
fires of a new religious experience, burning and quivering with the
terrors of the world to come,—pale, thin, eager, tremulous, and yet
with all the martial vigor of the former warrior, and all the habits of
command of a former princely station. His reforms gave no quarter
to right or left; sleepy monks were dragged out to midnight prayers,
and their devotions enlivened with vivid pictures of hell-fire and
ingenuities of eternal torment enough to stir the blood of the most
torpid. There was to be no more gormandizing, no more wine-
bibbing; the choice old wines were placed under lock and key for the
use of the sick and poor in the vicinity; and every fast of the Church,
and every obsolete rule of the order, were revived with unsparing
rigor. It is true, they hated their new Superior with all the energy
which laziness and good-living had left them, but they every soul of
them shook in their sandals before him; for there is a true and
established order of mastery among human beings, and when a man
of enkindled energy and intense will comes among a flock of
irresolute commonplace individuals, he subjects them to himself by a
sort of moral paralysis similar to what a great, vigorous gymnotus
distributes among a fry of inferior fishes. The bolder ones, who
made motions of rebellion, were so energetically swooped upon, and
consigned to the discipline of dungeon and bread-and-water, that
less courageous natures made a merit of siding with the more
powerful party, mentally resolving to carry by fraud the points which
they despaired of accomplishing by force.
On the morning we speak of, two monks might have been seen
lounging on a stone bench by one of the arches, looking listlessly
into the sombre garden-path we have described. The first of these,
Father Anselmo, was a corpulent fellow, with an easy swing of gait,
heavy animal features, and an eye of shrewd and stealthy cunning:
the whole air of the man expressed the cautious, careful voluptuary.
The other, Father Johannes, was thin, wiry, and elastic, with hands
like birds' claws, and an eye that reminded one of the crafty cunning
of a serpent. His smile was a curious blending of shrewdness and
malignity. He regarded his companion from time to time obliquely
from the corners of his eyes, to see what impression his words were
making, and had a habit of jerking himself up in the middle of a
sentence and looking warily round to see if any one were listening,
which indicated habitual distrust.
"Our holy Superior is out a good while this morning," he said, at
length.
 The observation was made in the smoothest and most silken
tones, but they carried with them such a singular suggestion of
doubt and inquiry that they seemed like an accusation.
"Ah?" replied the other, perceiving evidently some intended
undertone of suspicion lurking in the woods, but apparently resolved
not to commit himself to his companion.
"Yes," said the first; "the zeal of the house of the Lord consumes
him, the blessed man!"
"Blessed man!" echoed the second, rolling up his eyes, and
giving a deep sigh, which shook his portly proportions so that they
quivered like jelly.
"If he goes on in this way much longer," continued Father
Johannes, "there will soon be very little mortal left of him; the saints
will claim him."
Father Anselmo gave something resembling a pious groan, but
darted meanwhile a shrewd observant glance at the speaker.
"What would become of the convent, were he gone?" said Father
Johannes. "All these blessed reforms which he has brought about
would fall back; for our nature is fearfully corrupt, and ever tends to
wallow in the mire of sin and pollution. What changes hath he
wrought in us all! To be sure, the means were sometimes severe. I
remember, brother, when he had you under ground for more than
ten days. My heart was pained for you; but I suppose you know that
it was necessary, in order to bring you to that eminent state of
sanctity where you now stand."
The heavy, sensual features of Father Anselmo flushed up with
some emotion, whether of anger or of fear it was hard to tell; but he
gave one hasty glance at his companion, which, if a glance could kill,
would have struck him dead, and then there fell over his
countenance, like a veil, an expression of sanctimonious humility as
he replied,—
 "Thank you for your sympathy, dearest brother. I remember, too,
how I felt for you that week when you were fed only on bread and
water, and had to take it on your knees off the floor, while the rest of
us sat at table. How blessed it must be to have one's pride brought
down in that way! When our dear, blessed Superior first came,
brother, you were as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, but now
what a blessed change! It must give you so much peace! How you
must love him!"
"I think we love him about equally," said Father Johannes, his
dark, thin features expressing the concentration of malignity. "His
labors have been blessed among us. Not often does a faithful
shepherd meet so loving a flock. I have been told that the great
Peter Abelard found far less gratitude. They tried to poison him in
the most holy wine."
"How absurd!" interrupted Father Anselmo, hastily; "as if the
blood of the Lord, as if our Lord himself could be made poison!"
"Brother, it is a fact," insisted the former, in tones silvery with
humility and sweetness.
"A fact that the most holy blood can be poisoned?" replied the
other, with horror evidently genuine.
"I grieve to say, brother," said Father Johannes, "that in my
profane and worldly days I tried that experiment on a dog, and the
poor brute died in five minutes. Ah, brother," he added, observing
that his obese companion was now thoroughly roused, "you see
before you the chief of sinners. Judas was nothing to me; and yet,
such are the triumphs of grace, I am an unworthy member of this
most blessed and pious brotherhood; but I do penance daily in
sackcloth and ashes for my offense."
"But, Brother Johannes, was it really so? did it really happen?"
inquired Father Anselmo, looking puzzled. "Where, then, is our
faith?"
"Doth our faith rest on human reason, or on the evidence of our
senses, Brother Anselmo? I bless God that I have arrived at that
state where I can adoringly say, 'I believe, because it is impossible.'
Yea, brother, I know it to be a fact that the ungodly have sometimes
destroyed holy men, like our Superior, who could not be induced to
taste wine for any worldly purpose, by drugging the blessed cup; so
dreadful are the ragings of Satan in our corrupt nature!"
"I can't see into that," said Father Anselmo, still looking
confused.
"Brother," answered Father Johannes, "permit an unworthy sinner
to remind you that you must not try to see into anything; all that is
wanted of you in our most holy religion is to shut your eyes and
believe; all things are possible to the eye of faith. Now, humanly
speaking," he added, with a peculiarly meaning look, "who would
believe that you kept all the fasts of our order, and all the
extraordinary ones which it hath pleased our blessed Superior to lay
upon us, as you surely do? A worldling might swear, to look at you,
that such flesh and color must come in some way from good meat
and good wine; but we remember how the three children throve on
the pulse and rejected the meat from the king's table."
The countenance of Father Anselmo expressed both anger and
alarm at this home-thrust, and the changes did not escape the keen
eye of Father Johannes, who went on.
"I directed the eyes of our holy father upon you as a striking
example of the benefits of abstemious living, showing that the days
of miracles are not yet past in the Church, as some skeptics would
have us believe. He seemed to study you attentively. I have no
doubt he will honor you with some more particular inquiries,—the
blessed saint!"
Father Anselmo turned uneasily on his seat and stealthily eyed
his companion, to see, if possible, how much real knowledge was
expressed by his words, and then answered on quite another topic.
"How this garden has fallen to decay! We miss old Father Angelo
sorely, who was always trimming and cleaning it. Our Superior is too
heavenly-minded to have much thought for earthly things, and so it
goes."
Father Johannes watched this attempt at diversion with a glitter
of stealthy malice, and, seeming to be absorbed in contemplation,
broke out again exactly where he had left off on the unwelcome
subject.
"I mind me now, Brother Anselmo, that, when you came out of
your cell to prayers, the other night, your utterance was thick, and
your eyes heavy and watery, and your gait uncertain. One would
swear that you had been drunken with new wine; but we knew it
was all the effect of fasting and devout contemplation, which
inebriates the soul with holy raptures, as happened to the blessed
Apostles on the day of Pentecost. I remarked the same to our holy
father, and he seemed to give it earnest heed, for I saw him
watching you through all the services. How blessed is such
watchfulness!"
"The Devil take him!" said Father Anselmo, suddenly thrown off
his guard; but checking himself, he added, confusedly,—"I mean"—
"I understand you, brother," said Father Johannes; "it is a motion
of the old nature not yet entirely subdued. A little more of the
discipline of the lower vaults, which you have found so precious, will
set all that right."
"You would not inform against me?" said Father Anselmo, with an
expression of alarm.
"It would be my duty, I suppose," said Father Johannes, with a
sigh; "but, sinner that I am, I never could bring my mind to such
proceedings with the vigor of our blessed father. Had I been
Superior of the convent, as was talked of, how differently might
things have proceeded! I should have erred by a sinful laxness. How
fortunate that it was he, instead of such a miserable sinner as
myself!"
"Well, tell me, then, Father Johannes,—for your eyes are shrewd
as a lynx's,—is our good Superior so perfect as he seems? or does
he have his little private comforts sometimes, like the rest of us?
Nobody, you know, can stand it to be always on the top round of the
ladder to Paradise. For my part, between you and me, I never
believed all that story they read to us so often about Saint Simeon
Stylites, who passed so many years on the top of a pillar and never
came down. Trust me, the old boy found his way down sometimes,
when all the world was asleep, and got somebody to do duty for him
meantime, while he took a little something comfortable. Is it not
so?"
"I am told to believe, and I do believe," said Father Johannes,
casting down his eyes, piously; "and, dear brother, it ill befits a
sinner like me to reprove; but it seemeth to me as if you make too
much use of the eyes of carnal inquiry. Touching the life of our holy
father, I cannot believe the most scrupulous watch can detect
anything in his walk or conversation other than appears in his
profession. His food is next to nothing,—a little chopped spinach or
some bitter herb cooked without salt for ordinary days, and on fast
days he mingles this with ashes, according to a saintly rule. As for
sleep, I believe he does without it; for at no time of the night, when
I have knocked at the door of his cell, have I found him sleeping. He
is always at his prayers or breviary. His cell hath only a rough, hard
board for a bed, with a log of rough wood for a pillow; yet he
complains of that as tempting to indolence."
Father Anselmo shrugged his fat shoulders, ruefully.
"It's all well enough," he said, "for those that want to take this
hard road to Paradise; but why need they drive the flock up with
them?"
"True enough, Brother Anselmo," said Father Johannes; "but the
flock will rejoice in it in the end, doubtless. I understand he is
purposing to draw yet stricter the reins of discipline. We ought to be
thankful."
"Thankful? We can't wink but six times a week now," said Father
Anselmo; "and by and by he won't let us wink at all."
 "Hist! hush! here he comes," said Father Johannes. "What ails
him? he looks wild, like a man distraught."
In a moment more, in fact, Father Francesco strode hastily
through the corridor, with his deep-set eyes dilated and glittering,
and a vivid hectic flush on his hollow cheeks. He paid no regard to
the salutation of the obsequious monks; in fact, he seemed scarcely
to see them, but hurried in a disordered manner through the
passages and gained the room of his cell, which he shut and locked
with a violent clang.
"What has come over him now?" said Father Anselmo.
Father Johannes stealthily followed some distance, and then
stood with his lean neck outstretched and his head turned in the
direction where the Superior had disappeared. The whole attitude of
the man, with his acute glittering eye, might remind one of a serpent
making an observation before darting after his prey.
"Something is working him," he said to himself; "what may it
be?"
Meanwhile that heavy oaken door had closed on a narrow cell,
bare of everything which could be supposed to be a matter of
convenience in the abode of a human being. A table of the rudest
and most primitive construction was garnished with a skull, whose
empty eye-holes and grinning teeth were the most conspicuous
objects in the room. Behind this stood a large crucifix, manifestly the
work of no common master, and bearing evident traces in its
workmanship of Florentine art: it was, perhaps, one of the relics of
the former wealth of the nobleman who had buried his name and
worldly possessions in this living sepulchre. A splendid manuscript
breviary, richly illuminated, lay open on the table; and the fair fancy
of its flowery letters, the lustre of gold and silver on its pages,
formed a singular contrast to the squalid nakedness of everything
else in the room. This book, too, had been a family heirloom; some
lingering shred of human and domestic affection sheltered itself
under the protection of religion in making it the companion of his
self-imposed life of penance and renunciation.
Father Francesco had just returned from the scene in the
confessional we have already described. That day had brought to
him one of those pungent and vivid inward revelations which
sometimes overset in a moment some delusion that has been the
cherished growth of years. Henceforth the reign of self-deception
was past,—there was no more self-concealment, no more evasion.
He loved Agnes,—he knew it; he said it over and over again to
himself with a stormy intensity of energy; and in this hour the whole
of his nature seemed to rise in rebellion against the awful barriers
which hemmed in and threatened this passion. He now saw clearly
that all that he had been calling fatherly tenderness, pastoral zeal,
Christian unity, and a thousand other evangelical names, was
nothing more nor less than a passion that had gone to the roots of
existence and absorbed into itself all that there was of him. Where
was he to look for refuge? What hymn, what prayer, had he not
blent with her image? It was this that he had given to her as a holy
lesson,—it was that that she had spoken of to him as the best
expression of her feelings. This prayer he had explained to her; he
remembered just the beautiful light in her eyes, which were fixed on
his so trustingly. How dear to him had been that unquestioning
devotion, that tender, innocent humility!—how dear, and how
dangerous!
We have read of flowing rivulets, wandering peacefully without
ripple or commotion, so long as no barrier stayed their course,
suddenly chafing in angry fury when an impassable dam was thrown
across their waters. So any affection, however genial and gentle in
its own nature, may become an ungovernable, ferocious passion, by
the intervention of fatal obstacles in its course. In the case of Father
Francesco, the sense of guilt and degradation fell like a blight over
all the past that had been so ignorantly happy. He thought he had
been living on manna, but found it poison. Satan had been fooling
him, leading him on blindfold, and laughing at his simplicity, and
now mocked at his captivity. And how nearly had he been hurried by
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

textbookfull.com