DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.63221#0161
THE MYSTICS OF MEAUX
123
Abbey of St. Germain-des-Pres, reforming its abuses and
increasing its library. He was a true lover and protector
of Letters, and this was probably his first link with Margaret.
“Madame,” he writes to her, “if at the farthest end of
the Kingdom there existed a Doctor, who by one single
condensed verb could teach the whole of Grammar; and if
he could also teach Rhetoric, Philosophy, and all the seven
Liberal Arts, each by a like condensed verb, I vow that you
would rush to him as a shivering man would to the fire.”
Later—and it is a matter for regret—their correspondence
resolved itself into unintelligible mysticism. Its bulk is
astounding, its contents more so. A stranger farrago of
exalted dulness cannot be imagined, and its incoherence
increases till it reads like a correspondence in a dream.
Repentance and ecstasy are expressed in the extravagant
language of love—a kind of spiritual euphuism, complicated
by allegory. She dwells vaguely on a crushing sense of sin;
Bri^onnet absolves her in phrases that sound like gibberish.
She was twenty-four years younger than he, but he signs
himself “your useless son”; she varies between “your
useless mother”, and “your frozen, thirsty and ravenous
daughter”. . . . “Madame,” he answers (unconsciously paro-
dying himself), “what am I saying? I do not know what
I am saying.” No more perhaps did Margaret, for even
she, on one occasion, asked him to “ demetaphoriser ” himself.
Sentimental though he was, this Court Bishop was no
charlatan. He sincerely wished for Reform in the Church,
and all through the Meaux period he was working foi' his
cause. But when that cause became a dangerous affair, his
opinions changed and he gradually cried off. To avoid
123
Abbey of St. Germain-des-Pres, reforming its abuses and
increasing its library. He was a true lover and protector
of Letters, and this was probably his first link with Margaret.
“Madame,” he writes to her, “if at the farthest end of
the Kingdom there existed a Doctor, who by one single
condensed verb could teach the whole of Grammar; and if
he could also teach Rhetoric, Philosophy, and all the seven
Liberal Arts, each by a like condensed verb, I vow that you
would rush to him as a shivering man would to the fire.”
Later—and it is a matter for regret—their correspondence
resolved itself into unintelligible mysticism. Its bulk is
astounding, its contents more so. A stranger farrago of
exalted dulness cannot be imagined, and its incoherence
increases till it reads like a correspondence in a dream.
Repentance and ecstasy are expressed in the extravagant
language of love—a kind of spiritual euphuism, complicated
by allegory. She dwells vaguely on a crushing sense of sin;
Bri^onnet absolves her in phrases that sound like gibberish.
She was twenty-four years younger than he, but he signs
himself “your useless son”; she varies between “your
useless mother”, and “your frozen, thirsty and ravenous
daughter”. . . . “Madame,” he answers (unconsciously paro-
dying himself), “what am I saying? I do not know what
I am saying.” No more perhaps did Margaret, for even
she, on one occasion, asked him to “ demetaphoriser ” himself.
Sentimental though he was, this Court Bishop was no
charlatan. He sincerely wished for Reform in the Church,
and all through the Meaux period he was working foi' his
cause. But when that cause became a dangerous affair, his
opinions changed and he gradually cried off. To avoid