Part 3

"Then I prayed for Christendom; but the Lord answered with bitter sorrow that He had been dishonoured and put to grievous shame by Christian people, though for them He had done so great wonders, and had suffered so great anguish.

"And so it is with me, that longing and humility and love, these three blessed handmaidens, lead my soul up to God, and the soul beholds her Beloved and says, 'Lord, I mourn because Thou art thus warred against by those who are the dearest to Thee on the earth, by Christian people. I mourn because Thy friends are sorely hindered by Thine enemies.'

"And the Lord answered me, 'All that befalls My friends, sin only excepted, shall turn to them to joy, and for the glory of God. For the suffering calls with a mighty voice saying, that beyond all worship that can be offered Me is the patience that suffers, and if for a while I comfort not, it is far better than that comfort should come from another will than Mine.'"

That there were some, the "Friends of God," who shone like stars in the dark night Matilda thus found, and rejoiced to find. "But that the eagle soars to heaven," she said, "no thanks is there to the owl."

It was no wonder that Matilda was "much and continually despised" by the priests of whom she gave so bold a testimony. The Lord, she said, suffered in like manner, for thus was He put to shame because in Him was the truth. It was probably for some such plain speaking that Matilda was refused as an inmate of the convents to which she applied for admittance.

Matilda and Dante.

It was during the thirty years of Matilda's Beguine life that she began writing the book which has preserved her memory down to the days in which we live.

Not only does the book itself present Matilda to us as one of the most remarkable people of her age, but in a book more widely known is found, in all probability, the echo of her words, and the picture of herself as she appeared to the imagination of Dante. It is not necessary here to go into the proofs of this identification of the Beguine Matilda with the "lady all alone who went along

Singing and culling flower after flower With which her pathway was all painted over;"

the "beauteous lady, who in rays of love did warm herself." For those who desire to trace the connection of Matilda's book with Dante's poem, the proofs will be found in the first volume of Preger's "History of German Mysticism," and in a lecture delivered by Preger in the year 1873 on the subject of Dante's Matilda.

The resemblances between Dante and Eckhart have been remarked upon in a recent work on Dante, where, however, no allusion is made to other German writers.

"Any one who has read the discourses of Meister Eckhart, ... will be struck by the frequent and close resemblances, not of thought only, but of expression and illustration, which exist between him and Dante. So frequent and so close are these, that the reader can hardly conceive the possibility of their being due to mere coincidence."

But whence did Eckhart derive his expressions which reappear in Dante? "Matilda," says Preger, "expresses herself in a language higher than that of ordinary speech, and more fitted to the nature of heavenly things. And it may here be remarked, how frequently the elements of the speech of speculative mysticism, such as we may call the speech of Eckhart, are previously to be found in the writing of Matilda. But Matilda herself was not the creator of these expressions, for her poetical nature was inclined rather to expressions of thought in a manner less abstract, and appealing more vividly to the senses. But it would seem that before Matilda and Eckhart, certain characteristic theorems of speculative mysticism had become stereotyped in the German language. They form the stock of that capital of speech by which, especially through Eckhart's writings, the German language has been enriched. Matilda is, therefore, of importance in leading us to the discovery of how far Eckhart was indebted for his expressions to that more ancient store of language."

It would occupy too much space to trace here the remarkable connection not only in general between the book of Matilda and that of Dante, but between certain passages which almost repeat themselves in the later book. Others, again, which are not similar, yet stand in relation to one another. The City of Woe, for example, seen by Dante, is found also in Matilda's book, but there it is "the City of Eternal Hate;" and thus in many instances.

Matilda's book is commonly known by the name, "The flowing forth of the light of the Godhead." She wrote it originally in Low German, but of this original no copy is at present known to exist. Soon after her death, which occurred in 1277, a Latin translation was made by a predicant friar at Cologne, known as Brother Henry. Of this two copies remain, one of the fourteenth the other of the sixteenth century. The loose leaves had been first collected by another Brother Henry, also a predicant friar.

Afterwards a translation was made from Low German into High German by a priest, Henry von Nordlingen, assisted by a friend. It was completed after two years' labour in 1344. This Henry von Nordlingen, a friend of Suso, gave the High German translation to Margaret of the Golden Ring. Margaret gave it to the Waldschwestern in Einsiedeln. It was discovered in the convent library of Einsiedeln by Dr. Greith in the year 1861. In the year 1869 it was published in two forms by Dr. Gall Morel--first, the High German copy as discovered at Einsiedeln; secondly, a translation into modernised German.

It is from the Latin translation that it could be known to Dante.[3]

The original book is the oldest work of its sort hitherto known to have existed in the German tongue.

"It may justly be said," writes Preger, "that this book denotes a high degree in the measurement of the culture of German women, and of religious life in the Middle Ages. With freedom and clearness of thought, the writer combines tender and deep feeling; with a childlike and naive perceptiveness, a true sublimity of conception. Matilda frequently touches the depths in which speculative mysticism is formed, and her influence is to be traced even in the work of the deep thinker who was her compatriot, namely, Meister Eckhart, in whose language we find the echo of Matilda's speech. This language, which she employs with freedom and ease, takes at times the form of didactic speech, but it often rises to musical rhythm, to lyric song, and to epic portraiture. By the variety and life, as well as by the plastic intuition of expression, this work is distinguished from the monotonous writings on similar subjects by older authors."[4]

Much more might yet be said of Matilda as a writer and a poet. But it is with Matilda, the persecuted "Friend of God," the witness for Christ in a time dark as she describes it, that we have to do in the present instance.

The Book and its Origin.

We have Matilda's own account of the origin of her book. She says that when she began to live a spiritual life, and "took leave of the world," she found that the fulness of her bodily life and strength was a danger to her spiritual life, and, therefore, after the manner of her times she regarded the body as an enemy against which she was called to wage continual war.

"I saw that the weapons furnished to my heart were the sufferings and the death of Christ, and yet I was in great and constant fear, and I thought to deal violent blows to my enemy with sighs and confession, and weeping, with fasting, watching, and prayer, and with blows and stripes. And by this means for two and twenty years I kept my body in subjection, and had no illness.

"But after this illness came. And then came to me the mighty power, even the love of God, and filled me to overflowing with His wonders, so that I dared no longer keep silence, though to one so simple as I it was hard to speak. And I said to the Lord, 'O loving God, what canst Thou find in me? Thou knowest well I am a fool and a sinner, and a miserable creature in soul and body. It is to the wise that Thou shouldst commit Thy wonders, then mightest Thou be praised aright.'

"But the Lord was displeased at my words, and He rebuked me, saying, 'Tell me now, art thou not Mine?'

"'Yes, Lord, that hast Thou granted me!'

"'May I not, then, do with thee as I will?'

"'Yes, my Beloved; and I am willing to be brought to nought if Thou willest it.'

"Then, poor creature as I was, I went to my confessor, and told him what the Lord had put into my heart, and asked his counsel. And he said I ought cheerfully to do that to which God had called me. And yet did I weep with shame, seeing before my eyes my great unworthiness, and that God should lead a despicable woman to write the things which come from the heart and mouth of God."

Then Matilda, as is her wont, runs on into rhyme--

"The love of God has moved my pen, My book is not from the mind of men."

And afterwards, she says, "I was warned by some that my book might give much offence, and that it would be burnt as evil teaching. And I turned to my Beloved, as was my wont, and said to Him that if it were so, He had Himself misled me, for it was He who commanded me to write it. Then did He reveal Himself to my sorrowful heart, as if He held the book in His right hand, and said, 'My beloved one, do not be sorrowful. The truth can be burnt by no man. He who would take it out of My Hand must be stronger than I.'

"And yet I still answered Him, 'O Lord, if I were a learned clerk to whom Thou hadst shown these wonders, then might I write so as to bring Thee eternal glory. But how can it be that Thou shouldst build a golden house, the house of Thy dwelling place, in a miry pool?'

"And He answered me, that when He gave the gifts of His grace, He sought for the lowest and the smallest and the most unnoticed treasure houses. 'It is not on the high mountains that men drink of the fountains, for the stream of My Holy Spirit flows downwards to the valleys below. There are many wise in the Scriptures, who are but fools and unlearned in other learning.'"

Further on Matilda says that in the German tongue she found it hard to speak of that which God had shown her, and "of Latin I know nothing. For that which the eye can see, and the ear can hear, and the mouth can speak, is as unlike the truth which is revealed to the soul who loves, as a candle is to the glorious sun. Of the heavenly things which God has shown me I can speak but, as it were, a little word, not more than the honey which a little bee could carry away on his foot from an overflowing vessel.

"And now, Lord, I will commend these writings to Thy tender mercy; and with a heart that sighs, and with eyes that weep, and with a downcast spirit, I pray that they never may be read by a Pharisee, and I pray also that Thy children may so receive them into their hearts, as Thou, O Lord, hast of Thy truth given out of Thy store to me."

Matilda's book grew in an irregular manner from year to year. She wrote from time to time on loose sheets that which she believed she had received from God. There is, therefore, no connection in these writings, nor is there any plan in her manner of writing. Sometimes she wrote in prose, or in prose running from time to time into metre and rhyme. Sometimes she wrote in verse, in irregular measure, and with or without irregular rhymes, each division with a heading.

The friar Henry of Halle collected the loose leaves, and before the death of Matilda he divided them into six books. A seventh book was added by Matilda after the death of Brother Henry. Five of these books appear to have been written before Matilda entered the convent of Hellfde, and some can be dated by allusions to contemporary events.[5]

Apart from all that is interesting in these books, as literature or as history, there remains for the Christian reader who "is not a Pharisee" the far more interesting field of research into their value as spiritual teaching. The Pharisee will find much to blame and to despise in the ignorance and superstition of this Beguine of the Middle Ages.

And in sifting Matilda's writings, as indeed the writings of any man or woman, the gold, if there be any, has to be separated from the dross. The dross which had been accumulating for twelve centuries formed a large amount of that which Matilda believed she had learnt from God. We can recognise the gold by the one test furnished to us by Him who despises not any, but teaches the most ignorant who come to Him. If we apply to the writings of Matilda this infallible test, of conformity to the Word of God, we may be enriched by the gold without being encumbered by the dreary heaps of dross from which we have to sift it.

The book is supposed to be the expression of the intercourse of the soul with God. That it is really so _in part_, can be verified by any Christian reader who will compare it with the Bible and with the experience common to Christian believers. That this true Christian teaching should be mixed with the errors of her time is natural, and we know that the errors of each successive age leave their traces in the books that are the most enlightened, and that our own age is no exception.

The object in view in making the following extracts from Matilda's book is not to present it as a literary or historical study. Were it so, it would be needful to give extracts from the false as well as from the true teaching, so as to give a correct idea of Matilda and her times. But writing simply with a desire that the truth taught to Matilda by the Spirit of God should be made available for those in these later days who are glad of spiritual food, the false and the imaginary will be passed over, and the remainder given as much as possible in Matilda's own words.

It must be remarked, however, that certain expressions which in mediaeval German conveyed no impression of irreverence would sound painfully familiar in modern English. An equivalent has, therefore, to be found conveying to readers now the same sense which the original words would have conveyed to the readers of the thirteenth century.

It may also be remarked that the chief errors to be noted in Matilda's book are a tendency to the worship (in a lower sense of the word) of the Virgin and the Saints, a belief in Purgatory, and a certain weight attached to the merit of human works.

Of the first of these, it may truly be said that Matilda's references to the Virgin Mother stand in remarkable contrast to the writings of later times. If compared with "the Glories of Mary," now in popular use, they serve as a landmark showing the downward course of error and superstition in the Church of Rome during the past six hundred years, though there were already those, such as Bonaventura,[6] who hastened the fall.

It must be observed, too, in reference to Matilda's allusions to the Virgin Mary, that the chasm between the mother of the Lord and all ordinary believers is very much reduced if compared with that which exists in modern Roman Catholic books of devotion, from the fact that the place assigned to every redeemed soul in Matilda's writings is far higher than in most Catholic or Protestant teaching. Even amongst Protestants it is not uncommon to regard the redeemed as in a place below the angels, or on a level with them. But to Matilda the power and the value of the work of Christ were so fully recognised, that she regarded the Bride of the Lamb, or the individual who is made a member of the body of Christ, as in the highest place next to the Bridegroom, the Head of the Body.

As regards human merit, Matilda only appears occasionally to attach some weight to it in speaking of others; of herself, she says she has nothing to bring to God but her sin.

The Journey to Eternal Peace.

It will be best to describe Matilda's spiritual life as far as possible from her own words. She gives us in parables the history of her soul. Sometimes it seems well to give these in full, at other times to give the sense whilst omitting repetitions.

She tells us that for a long time she was without rest or peace, knowing not only the guilt, but the power of sin, and she looked hither and thither for that which would meet her need. And the mind, as it were, disputed with the soul, for the mind would have her to seek her peace in the things that could be seen. And thus it said--

"O soul, in the Magdalen's bitter tears Do the streams of comfort flow."

But the soul made answer--

"Hold thy peace, For my need thou dost not know. The comfort I crave is joy divine, I needs must drink the unmingled wine."

"Soul, if as a virgin pure thou art, A river of love will fill thy heart."

"And if in troth it so might be, The fountain of love is not in me."

"Rejoice in the blood the martyrs shed."

"In the path of the martyrs I daily tread, But I have not found my rest."

"In the wisdom the Lord's apostles taught, Is there peace, O soul, for thee."

"I have the Wisdom that is the best, He abideth ever with me."

"The angels in heaven are bright and fair, For solace, O soul, betake thee there."

"The joy of the angels is grief to me, If the Lord of the angels I may not see."

"In fastings and labours manifold, Did John in the wilderness toil of old, And so may peace be thine."

"To labour and suffer my heart is fain, But love is more than all toil and pain."

"O soul, the Virgin is kind and sweet, And fair the Child on her breast, And thou, adoring, before her feet Shalt find thy rest."

"My Beloved is mine, and I am His, I seek the joy where the Bridegroom is; For a full-grown bride am I."...

Then doth the mind warn the soul, saying--

"In His terrible glory no foot hath trod, A devouring fire dread to see; In the blinding light of the face of God No soul can be. For thou knowest that all high heaven is bright With a glory beyond the sun, With the radiance of the saints in light, And the fount of that light is One. From the breath of the everlasting God, From the mouth of the Man Divine, From the counsel of God the Holy Ghost, Doth that awful glory shine. Soul, couldst thou abide for an hour alone In the burning fire around His throne?"

"The fish drowns not in the mighty sea, The bird sinks not in the air, The gold in the furnace fire may be, And is yet more radiant there. For God to each of His creatures gave The place to its nature known, And shall it not be that my heart should crave For that which is mine own? For my nature seeketh her dwelling-place, That only and none other; The child must joy in the Father's face, The brethren in the Brother. To the bridal chamber goeth the bride, For love is her home and rest; And shall not I in His light abide, When I lean upon His breast?"

. . . . . . .

And she who is beloved with love untold, Thus goes to Him who is divinely fair, In His still chamber of unsullied gold, And love all pure, all holy, greets her there-- The love of His eternal Godhead high, The love of His divine Humanity. Then speaketh He and saith, "Beloved one, What would'st thou? It is thine. From self shalt thou go forth for evermore, For thou art Mine. O soul, no angel for an hour might dream Of all the riches that I give to thee, The glory and the beauty that beseem The heritage of life that is in Me. Yet satisfied thou shalt for ever long, Thus sweeter shall be thine eternal song."[7]

"O Lord my God, so small, so poor am I, And great, almighty, O my God, art Thou."

"Yet thou art joined to Christ eternally; My love a changeless, everlasting NOW."

And thus the joyful soul is still At rest in God's eternal will, And she is His, and thus delighteth He Her own to be.

The Path of Love.

We have the same history, the same "pilgrim's progress," given to us in another form. Matilda calls it "The Path of Love."--It is her own story, the years of dreary penance, followed by the revelation of Christ to the soul.

"O thou that lovest, wouldst thou know The path wherein thy feet should go?"

"Yea, teach it, Lord, to me."

"Through drear repentance leads the way, And the shame of sin confessed-- And when thou hast trod on the world's display, And on the devil's behest, And on the flesh in its haughty pride, And on thy helpless will, That holds the soul of the chosen bride In bonds and slavery still, And when the enemy conquered lies, And weary art thou and athirst-- Then to Him whom thou lovest lift thine eyes, To Him who loved thee first."

Then shall He speak and say--

"I hear a voice that calleth amain, A voice of love and tears; I have wooed, and I have listened in vain Through long, long years-- And it speaks to-day. My heart is troubled, and I must haste To the sad sweet voice across the waste."

. . . . . . .

And in the morning, when the dew is sweet, She hears the gentle music of His feet-- She hears Him speak and say, "I heard thy voice." The glorious One draws nigh; Amidst the dew when all the woods rejoice With gladsome melody. And she arrays herself in fair attire, In raiment of a bride; Her mantle is the holy judgment fire Wherein the gold is tried. Of meek humility her stole is spun, Her robe is white as snow, For unto Him, the High and Holy One, She fain would go. And thus she passeth through the forest dim, Where holy people dwell, And day and night, with dance and song and hymn, Their gladness tell; With solemn dance of praise that knows no end, Hands linked with other hands of ancient years; The mighty faith of Abraham His friend, The longing of His seers; The chaste humility of her who bore God's blessed Son; And all the victories that in days of yore His saints have won-- These join in dance attuned to glorious song And move in cadence sweet, And multiplied as ages pass along Are those rejoicing feet.

He saith--

"Beloved, do as they have done Who praise My name alway."

And she makes answer--

"Thou must lead me on, And I will dance as they; I move to music of Thy song Rejoicing over me, And so my halting steps are strong To follow after Thee; To pass within Thy love's eternal rest, And onwards to confess Thee undismayed; And onwards yet, till on my Saviour's breast My soul is stayed; And yet beyond that rest and joy of mine, To joy which heart of man hath never known, Where Christ rejoiceth in His Song Divine-- That joy of perfect love, O Lord, is Thine, And Thine alone."

Then doth He speak and say--

"Beloved, thou hast praised Me in the dance And weary are thy feet-- Behold in shadow of the trees of God The rest is sweet, Rest, rest with Me."

"O Lord, too great this love of Thine, Thine only can it be; For, lo! my love, Lord, is not mine, It comes from Thee."

The Journey through the Wilderness.

Thus much do we know of the journey of this redeemed soul from self-occupation and self-discipline, whilst Christ listened for her voice in vain, to the knowledge of the peace and joy that is in Him. And we know something also of her earthly path, told us in a spiritual song, which she calls "How fair is the Bridegroom, and how the bride followeth Him."