Adopting, in other respects, the uniform rule of hermits and anchorites, he divided his day into the seven offices, ignoring the petty accidents of light and dark, creations both of Him to whom he prayed so unceasingly.He learned the psalter by heart, and in all the intervals of devotion, not occupied by broken slumbers, he worked hard with his hands.No article of the hermit's rule was more strict or more ancient than this.And here his self-imposed penance embarrassed him, for what work could he do, without being seen, that should benefit his neighbours? for the hermit was to labour for himself in those cases only where his subsistence depended on it.Now Clement's modest needs were amply supplied by the villagers.
On moonlight nights he would steal out like a thief, and dig some poor man's garden on the outskirts of the village.He made baskets and dropped them slily at humble doors.
And since he could do nothing for the bodies of those who passed by his cell in daytime, he went out in the dead of the night with his hammer and his chisel, and carved moral and religious sentences all down the road upon the sandstone rocks."Who knows?"said he, "often a chance shaft strikes home.
Oh, sore heart, comfort thou the poor and bereaved with holy words of solace in their native tongue; for he said "well, 'tis "clavis ad corda plebis." Also he remembered the learned Colonna had told him of the written mountains in the east, where kings had inscribed their victories, "What," said Clement, "are they so wise, those Eastern monarchs, to engrave their war-like glory upon the rock, ****** a blood bubble endure so long as earth; and shall I leave the rocks about me silent on the King of Glory, at whose word they were, and at whose breath they shall be dust? Nay, but these stones shall speak to weary wayfarers of eternal peace, and of the Lamb, whose frail and afflicted yet happy servant worketh them among."Now at this time the inspired words that have consoled the poor and the afflicted for so many ages were not yet printed in Dutch, so that these sentences of gold from the holy evangelists came like fresh oracles from heaven, or like the dew on parched flowers; and the poor hermit's written rocks softened a heart Or two, and sent the heavy laden singing on their way[1].
These holy oracles that seemed to spring up around him like magic;his prudent answers through his window to such as sought ghostly counsel; and above all, his invisibility, soon gained him a prodigious reputation, This was not diminished by the medical advice they now and then extorted from him sore against his will, by tears and entreaties; for if the patients got well they gave the holy hermit the credit, and if not they laid all the blame on the devil.I think he killed nobody, for his remedies were womanish and weak." Sage and wormwood, sion, hyssop, borage, spikenard, dog's-tongue, our Lady's mantle, feverfew, and Faith, and all in small quantities except the last.
Then his abstinence, sure sign of a saint.The eggs and milk they brought him at first he refused with horror.Know ye not the hermit's rule is bread, or herbs, and water? Eggs, they are birds in disguise; for when the bird dieth, then the egg rotteth.As for milk, it is little better than white blood.And when they brought him too much bread he refused it.Then they used to press it on him."Nay, holy father; give the overplus to the poor.""You who go among the poor can do that better.Is bread a thing to fling haphazard from an hermit's window?" And to those who persisted after this: "To live on charity, yet play Sir Bountiful, is to lie with the right hand.Giving another's to the poor, Ishould beguile them of their thanks, and cheat thee the true giver.Thus do thieves, whose boast it is they bleed the rich into the lap of the poor.Occasio avaritiae nomen pauperum."When nothing else would convince the good souls, this piece of Latin always brought them round.So would a line of Virgil's Aeneid.
This great reputation of sanctity was all external.Inside the cell was a man who held the hermit of Gouda as cheap as dirt.
