Read Online The Fiery Angel by Valery Bruisov - Free Book Online
Authors: Valery Bruisov
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
delivering a sermon:
“For a long time we men hungered and thirsted, and there came to pass the prophecy of Jeremiah: ‘The children shall cry out for bread and there shall be none shall give unto them.’ The darkness of Egypt enveloped the vaults of the temple, but now they resound with hymns of triumph. The new Gideon has been hired by the Lord as day-labourer at a groschen a day, and he has sharpened his scythe to mow the yellowed fields. Forged are the lances on the anvil of Nimrod and his tower is ripe to fall. Elijah is risen in the New Jerusalem and the true prophets of the true Apostolic Church fare out unto all lands—to preach a God who is not dumb, but liveth and speaketh!”
To this arrogant speech I replied, with circumspection, that it was as dangerous for new thoughts discovered by learned men to become the property of the people, as for daggers to be distributed to children as toys. That the pomp of the church, as well as of many church institutions, perhaps even the monastic, so often plunged deep in riches, did in truth not correspond to the spirit of the teaching of Jesus Christ, but that it was impossible to better the matter by riot and force. That, lastly, life must be rejuvenated not by abolishing dogmas and robbing princes, but by educating minds.
It was here that Renata joined unexpectedly into the conversation, though I had thought that she had not been listening at all to Moritz’ words and had been busy studying the currents of the river, and she said:
“Only those who have never known what faith means can speak of such things. Who has but once experienced with what bliss the soul is received into God—will never even think of a necessity to forge lances or sharpen scythes. All these Davids marching against Belials—these Luthers, these Zwinglis and these Iohanns—are the servants of the Devil and his henchmen. What a deal we talk of the crimes of others, but what if we were to turn our glance upon ourselves, and look as if into a mirror—were to see our sins and our shame? Ah, then would we be horrified, and flee into the cell of a monastery as the stag flies from the huntsman. It is not the church we must reform, but our own souls, that are no more able to pray to the Almighty and have faith in His word but must ever be desiring to reason and prove. And if you, Rupprecht, thought as this man here, I would not stay with you a moment longer, but would rather throw myself head foremost into this river by our side than share a cabin with a heretic.”
These words, that seemed to me very unexpected at the time, Renata uttered with passion, and, quickly getting up, she walked away briskly. And Moritz also, having looked at me not without suspicion, walked away and began to abuse his mates.
We never returned to the subject, but Moritz shunned us, and we were left on the barge in complete solitude, which I preferred. After the angry words of Renata, I endeavoured to conciliate her and pay her more attention, to show her more openly how much store I set upon her affection; for example, the whole night until daybreak, which Renata spent sleepless in the cabin, I remained with her and at her request softly stroked her hair, until my hand grew almost numb. Renata, apparently, was grateful to me and treated me, during these hours and next morning as well, with a kindness quite exceptional. Thus our friendly calm lasted until our very arrival at Köln, where it suddenly snapped like a rigging rope at the onset of a tempest.
In the decline of the second day of our journey, there appeared far off the tops of the churches of Köln, and it was with a heartfelt emotion that I pointed out to Renata the spire of Saint Martin, the squat roof of Saint Gereon, the narrow tower of the Brothers Minorite, the enormous massive of the Senate House, and at last the giant torn in two, the unfulfilled grandeur of the Cathedral of the Three Kings. When we approached more nearly and I could distinguish the
“For a long time we men hungered and thirsted, and there came to pass the prophecy of Jeremiah: ‘The children shall cry out for bread and there shall be none shall give unto them.’ The darkness of Egypt enveloped the vaults of the temple, but now they resound with hymns of triumph. The new Gideon has been hired by the Lord as day-labourer at a groschen a day, and he has sharpened his scythe to mow the yellowed fields. Forged are the lances on the anvil of Nimrod and his tower is ripe to fall. Elijah is risen in the New Jerusalem and the true prophets of the true Apostolic Church fare out unto all lands—to preach a God who is not dumb, but liveth and speaketh!”
To this arrogant speech I replied, with circumspection, that it was as dangerous for new thoughts discovered by learned men to become the property of the people, as for daggers to be distributed to children as toys. That the pomp of the church, as well as of many church institutions, perhaps even the monastic, so often plunged deep in riches, did in truth not correspond to the spirit of the teaching of Jesus Christ, but that it was impossible to better the matter by riot and force. That, lastly, life must be rejuvenated not by abolishing dogmas and robbing princes, but by educating minds.
It was here that Renata joined unexpectedly into the conversation, though I had thought that she had not been listening at all to Moritz’ words and had been busy studying the currents of the river, and she said:
“Only those who have never known what faith means can speak of such things. Who has but once experienced with what bliss the soul is received into God—will never even think of a necessity to forge lances or sharpen scythes. All these Davids marching against Belials—these Luthers, these Zwinglis and these Iohanns—are the servants of the Devil and his henchmen. What a deal we talk of the crimes of others, but what if we were to turn our glance upon ourselves, and look as if into a mirror—were to see our sins and our shame? Ah, then would we be horrified, and flee into the cell of a monastery as the stag flies from the huntsman. It is not the church we must reform, but our own souls, that are no more able to pray to the Almighty and have faith in His word but must ever be desiring to reason and prove. And if you, Rupprecht, thought as this man here, I would not stay with you a moment longer, but would rather throw myself head foremost into this river by our side than share a cabin with a heretic.”
These words, that seemed to me very unexpected at the time, Renata uttered with passion, and, quickly getting up, she walked away briskly. And Moritz also, having looked at me not without suspicion, walked away and began to abuse his mates.
We never returned to the subject, but Moritz shunned us, and we were left on the barge in complete solitude, which I preferred. After the angry words of Renata, I endeavoured to conciliate her and pay her more attention, to show her more openly how much store I set upon her affection; for example, the whole night until daybreak, which Renata spent sleepless in the cabin, I remained with her and at her request softly stroked her hair, until my hand grew almost numb. Renata, apparently, was grateful to me and treated me, during these hours and next morning as well, with a kindness quite exceptional. Thus our friendly calm lasted until our very arrival at Köln, where it suddenly snapped like a rigging rope at the onset of a tempest.
In the decline of the second day of our journey, there appeared far off the tops of the churches of Köln, and it was with a heartfelt emotion that I pointed out to Renata the spire of Saint Martin, the squat roof of Saint Gereon, the narrow tower of the Brothers Minorite, the enormous massive of the Senate House, and at last the giant torn in two, the unfulfilled grandeur of the Cathedral of the Three Kings. When we approached more nearly and I could distinguish the
Similar Books
