Life Of John Milton, Richard Garnett [ebook offline txt] 📗

Of

Medical Assistance,  Evidently Has Little Hope From It. "Whatever Ray Of

Hope May Be For Me From Your Famous Physician,  All The Same,  As In A

Case Quite Incurable,  I Prepare And Compose Myself Accordingly. My

Darkness Hitherto,  By The Singular Kindness Of God,  Amid Rest And

Studies,  And The Voices And Greetings Of Friends,  Has Been Much Easier

To Bear Than That Deathly One. But If,  As Is Written,  'Man Doth Not Live

By Bread Alone,  But By Every Word That Proceedeth Out Of The Mouth Of

God,' What Should Prevent Me From Resting In The Belief That Eyesight

Lies Not In Eyes Alone,  But Enough For All Purposes In God's Leading And

Providence? Verily,  While Only He Looks Out For Me,  And Provides For Me,

As He Doth; Teaching Me And Leading Me Forth With His Hand Through My

Whole Life,  I Shall Willingly,  Since It Hath Seemed Good To Him,  Have

Given My Eyes Their Long Holiday. And To You I Now Bid Farewell,  With A

Mind Not Less Brave And Steadfast Than If I Were Lynceus Himself For

Keenness Of Sight." Religion And Philosophy,  Of Which No Brighter

Example Was Ever Given,  Did Not,  In This Sore Trial,  Disdain The Support

Of A Manly Pride:--

 

                 "What Supports Me,  Dost Thou Ask?

    The Conscience,  Friend,  To Have Lost Them Overplied

    In Liberty's Defence,  My Noble Task,

    O! Which All Europe Rings From Side To Side;

    This Thought Might Leadrt Them; To The Sinners,  And

Raise Them Up.  Go To All Nations,  And Teach Them All That I Have Told

You.  Those Who Believe In Me Will Be Blessed.  I Am The Way,  The

Truth,  And The Life.  I Go Now To My Father.  My Spirit And My Strength

I Leave To You: Light To The Eyes,  The Word To The Tongue,  Love To The

Heart.  And Mercy To Sinners----"

 

Thus They Heard Him Speak,  And Lo!--There Was No One There Except The

Disciples.  Two Footmarks Were Impressed On The Stone.  The Heavens

Chapter 6 Pg 63

Above Were Still; They Bowed Their Heads,  Then Watched How He Ascended

To The Clouds,  How He Hovered In The Light,  How He Went To The Father,

To Whom Also We Shall Go Through Our Saviour,  Jesus Christ.

 

 

 

 

 

  

Chapter 7 Pg 64

My Father And My God!  I Thank Thee That Thou Hast Permitted Me To

Behold The Life,  The Passion,  And The Resurrection Of Thy Son,  And To

Steep Myself In His Words And Promises During This Terrible Time.  In

The Torture Of Suspense,  Which Is More Dreadful Than Death,  I Have Won

Courage From The Great Events Of His Life,  And Received Consolation

From The Appearance Of My Redeemer Upon Earth.  My Hope Has Been

Strengthened By The Saints Of Old Who Repented.  For The Sake Of The

Crucified Saviour,  O Lord,  Put Mercy Into My King's Heart.  If It Is

God's Will That I Die,  Then Let Me Die Like Dismas.  Only Pardon Me.

In The Name Of Jesus,  I Implore Thee,  O Father,  For Mercy!  Have Mercy

On Me,  A Sinner.  Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conclusion

 

Such Is The Story.  It Was Written By A Common Workman Awaiting

Sentence Of Death In A Prison Cell.  The Last Prayer Was Written

Exactly Six Weeks After His Condemnation.

 

Conrad Began To Feel A Little Frightened.  He Had Been So Absorbed In

His Saviour's Story That He Felt Himself To Be Almost Part Of It.  He

Had Written It All Day,  And Dreamed Of It All Night.  He Had Been In

The Stable At Bethlehem,  He Had Wandered By The Lake Of Gennesaret,  And

Spent Nights In The Wilderness Of Judaea.  He Had Journeyed To Sidon,

And Across The Mountains To Jerusalem.  He,  A Prisoner In Jail And

Sentenced To Death,  Had Stood On The Mount Of Olives,  He Had Been In

Bethany And Supped At Jesus' Side.  But Now He Felt Almost Indifferent

To The Thought.  Had He Not Lived Through That Glorious Death At

Golgotha?  All Else Sank Into Insignificance Beside That.  It Almost

Seemed To Him As If He Had Passed Beyond The Veil.  The Risen One

Possessed All His Soul.  He Could Not Get Away From All These Holy

Memories.  Then Suddenly Came The Thought: When Death Comes I Must Be

Brave.  He Remembered A Story His Mother Had Once Told Him Of A Roman

Executioner Who,  On Receiving Orders To Behead A Young Christian,  Had

Been So Overcome With Pity That He Had Fainted.  The Youth Had Revived

Him,  And Comforted Him As Bravely As If It Had Been His Duty To Die,  As

It Was The Executioner's To Kill.  But Then Conrad Told Himself: You

Are A Guilty Creature,  And Cannot Compare Yourself With A Saint.  Would

You Be Brave Enough To Act Like That?  Would You?  It Is Sweet To Die

Chapter 8 Pg 65

With Jesus,  But It Is Still Sweeter To Live With Him.

 

The Jailer Asked Him If He Would Care To Go Out Once More Into The Open

Air.

 

Out Into The Air?  Out Into The Prison Yard,  Where All The Refuse Was

Thrown?  No.  He Thanked Him; He Would Prefer To Remain In His Cell.

It Could Not Be For Long Now.

 

"No; It Will Not Be For Long Now," Said The Old Man.  But He Did Not

Tell Him That In The Meantime The Chancellor Had Died Of His Wounds,

Although From The "Old Grumbler's" Increased Tenderness Conrad Might

Have Suspected That His Case Did Not Stand In A Favourable Light.

 

"If You Are Truly Brave," The Old Man Told Him,  "The Next Time You Go

Out You Shall Walk Under Green Trees."

 

"But Now?  Not Now?"  Conrad Thought Of A Reprieve,  And Grew Excited.

A Red Flush Stained His Cheeks.

 

"No; I Did Not Mean That.  You Know The King Is Far Away.  But It May

Come Any Time.  I Am Waiting For It Anxiously.  You Know,  Ferleitner,

After This I Shall Resign My Post."

 

At That Moment The Priest Came In.  He Always Enteredhis I Shall Resign My The Dark Cell

With A Cheerful Face And A Glad "God Be With You!"  It Was His Office

To Bring Comfort,  If Only He Had Known How.  As A Rule The Monk Came

In,  Wiping The Perspiration From His Brow With A Coarse Blue

Handkerchief,  And Loudly Assuring The Prisoner How Pleasantly Cool It

Was In His Cell.  But This Time He Was Nervous And Ill At Ease.  How

Did The Prisoner Look?  Emaciated To A Skeleton,  His Teeth Prominent

Between Fleshless Lips,  His Eyes Wide Open,  A Wondrous Fire Burning In

Their Depths.

 

"As You Will Never Send For Me,  My Dear Ferleitner,  I Have Come Again

Unasked To See How You Fare.  You Are Not Ill?"

 

"Has The Sentence Come?" Asked The Prisoner.

 

"Not That I Know Of," Answered The Monk; "But I See I Am Disturbing You

At Your Work."

 

Conrad Had Neglected To Put Away The Sheets He Had Written,  And So Had

To Confess That He Had Been Writing.

 

"Isn't It Too Dark To See To Write Here?"

 

"You Get Accustomed To It.  At First It Was Dark,  But Now It Seems To

Get Lighter And Lighter."

 

"So You've Made Your Will At Last?" Asked The Father,  Raising His

Eyebrows.  He Meant To Be Humorous.

 

Chapter 8 Pg 66

"A Sort Of One!"

 

"Let's See,  Then.  You Have Something To Leave?"

 

"I Have Not.  Another Has."

 

The Father Turned Over The Sheets,  Read A Line Here And There,  Shook

His Shaven Head A Little,  And Said "It Seems To Resemble The New

Testament.  Have You Been Copying It From The Gospel?"

 

"No,  I Haven't Got A New Testament.  That's Why I Had To Write This For

Myself."

 

"This Gospel!  You've Written One For Yourself Out Of Your Own Head?"

 

"Not Exactly.  Well,  Perhaps Now And Then I Have.  I've Written What I

Could Remember.  I Will Be Responsible For The Errors."

 

"My Curiosity Grows," Cried The Father.  "May I Read It?"

 

"It's Not Worth Your Trouble,  But I Knew Of Nothing Else To Help Me."

 

"The Work Has Exhausted You,  Ferleitner."

 

"No; On The Contrary,  I May Almost Say It Has Revived Me.  I'm Sorry It

Is Finished.  I Thought Of Nothing Else; I Forgot Everything."

 

His Enthusiasm Has Consumed Him,  Thought The Monk.

 

"Ferleitner,  Will You Let Me Take It Away With Me For A Few Days?"

 

Conrad Shyly Gave Permission.  The Monk Gathered The Sheets Together,

And Thrust Them Carelessly Into His Pouch,  So That The Roll Stuck Out

At The Top.  When He Had Gone,  Conrad Gazed Sadly Into Emptiness And

Longed For His Manuscript.  How Happy He Had Been With It All Those

Weeks!  What Would The Priest Think Of It?  Everything Would Be Wrong.

Such People See Their God With Other Eyes Than Ours.  And If He

Criticised It,  All The Pleasure Would Go Out Of It.

 

But Conrad Did Not Have To Do Without It Long.  The Father Brought It

Back The Next Morning.  He Had Begun To Read It The Evening Before,  And

Had Sat Up All Night To Finish It.  But He Would Not Give His Opinion,

And Conrad Did Not Ask For It.  Almost Helplessly,  They Sat At The

Rough Table,  While The Monk Tried To Think How He Could Express His

Thoughts.  After A While,  He Took Up The Manuscript,  Laid It Down

Again,  And Said That Of Course,  From The Ecclesiastical Point Of View,

There Would Naturally Be Some Objections.

 

"The Details Of The History Are Not Altogether Correct.  I Know,

Ferleitner,  That You Asked Me For A Copy Of The New Testament.  If I

Had Known That You Had Gone So Far,  I Would Willingly Have Given You

One.  But Perhaps It Is Better So.  Though I Must Tell You,  Conrad

Ferleitner,  That Nothing