It is sad to
reflect how many great thoughts must have perished still-born in the
student's cloister cell, and to picture the silent grief with which
many a brilliant soul must have repressed his eager imagination.
_The Charity of the Monks_
In the eleventh century, a monk named Thieffroy wrote the following: "It
matters little that our churches rise to heaven, that the capitals of
their pillars are sculptured and gilded, that our parchment is tinted
purple, that gold is melted to form the letters of our manuscripts, and
that their bindings are set with precious stones, if we have little or
no care for the members of Christ, and if Christ himself lies naked and
dying before our doors." This spirit, so charmingly expressed, was never
quite absent from the monkish orders. The monasteries were asylums for
the hungry during famines, and the sick during plagues. They served as
hotels where the traveler found a cordial welcome, comfortable shelter
and plain food. If he needed medical aid, his wants were supplied.
During the black plague, while many monks fled with the multitude,
others stayed at their posts and were to be found daily in the homes of
the stricken, ministering to their bodily and spiritual needs. Many of
them perished in their heroic and self-sacrificing labors.
Alms-giving was universally enjoined as a sure passport to heaven. The
most glittering rewards were held out to those who enriched the monks
with legacies to be used in relief of the poor.
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