The Canvassing


Now, however, come great news to St. Edmundsbury: That there is
to be an Abbot elected; that our interlunar obscuration is to
cease; St. Edmund's Convent no more to be a doleful widow, but
joyous and once again a bride! Often in our widowed state had we
prayed to the Lord and St. Edmund, singing weekly a matter of
'one-and-twenty penitential Psalms, on our knees in the Choir,'
that a fit Pastor might be vouchsafed us. And, says Jocelin, had
some known what Abbot we were to get, they had not been so
devout, I believe!--Bozzy Jocelin opens to mankind the floodgates
of authentic Convent gossip; we listen, as in a Dionysius' Ear,
to the inanest hubbub, like the voices at Virgil's Horn-Gate of
Dreams. Even gossip, seven centuries off, has significance.
List, list, how like men are to one another in all centuries:

_`Dixit quidam de quodam,_ A certain person said of a certain
person, "He, that _Frater,_ is a good monk, _probabilis persona;_
knows much of the order and customs of the church; and though
not so perfect a philosopher as some others, would make a very
good Abbot. Old Abbot Ording, still famed among us, knew little
of letters. Besides, as we read in Fables, it is better to
choose a log for king, than a serpent, never so wise, that will
venomously hiss and bite his subjects."--"Impossible!" answered
the other: "How can such a man make a sermon in the chapter, or
to the people on festival days, when he is without letters? How
can he have the skill to bind and to loose, he who does not
understand the Scriptures? How--?"'