VII
Fra Paolo Sarpi—this friar so grave and great and unemotional—had been since he had entered the convent in his precocious boyhood the central figure, fascinating the interest of his community by the marvel of his progress, so that those who had been his teachers stood reverently aside, before he had attained to manhood, recognizing gifts beyond their leading which had already won homage from the savants of Europe and crowned the order of the Servi with unexampled honors. The element of the unusual in the young Paolo''''s endowments had transformed this Benjamin of the convent into a hero, and surrounded the calm flow of his studious life with a halo of romance for these Servite friars; yet the good Fra Giulio in those early days, having little learning wherewith to estimate his progress and watching over him like a father, had been grieved at his strange placidity. \"He sorely needeth some touch of emotion,\" he said yearningly; \"methinks I love the lad as if he were mine own son, and I feel something lacking in his life.\"
\"Fret not the lad needlessly with those fanciful notions of thine,\" Fra Gianmaria had retorted with much asperity. \"It is the most marvelous piece of mental mechanism that I have ever dreamed. Already he hath attained to larger knowledge than thou, with thy gray hairs, canst comprehend.\"
Fra Giulio had crossed himself devoutly, as if confessing to some earthliness. \"I measure not my simple mind with that of a genius, my brother; for so God hath endowed our lad. Yet it may be that He meaneth man to garner other blessings besides knowledge. We received him as a child into our fold, and we are responsible for his development. But his condition is not normal.\"
\"Genius is abnormal,\" Fra Gianmaria had responded shortly.
\"He hath no wish but for this ceaseless mental labor; all natural youthful fancies, all joy in the things of beauty—for these he careth naught.\"
The elder friar''''s troubled utterance had stirred no tremor in his companion''''s stern reply. \"Thou and I, my brother, have attained by penances and years of abnegation to that mood which hath been granted the boy as a gift to fit him for the cloister life. It were small kindness to implant a struggle of which he knows not the beginnings.\"
And now, after all these years, through which the good Fra Giulio had watched this son of his affections, whom he loved with a love \"passing the loves of earth\" he pathetically told himself,—\"as if God thus made up to him for all the loves he had resigned,\"—now that the name of Fra Paolo was uttered with reverence while his own was unknown, he still expressed his heart in many tender cares, providing the new cassock before the scholar had noticed that the one he wore was seamed and frayed, with such other gentle ministries as the convent rule permitted toward one who never gave a worldly thought to the morrow.
And still, after all these years, the fatherly friar often fondly recurred to a time when he had first seemed to catch some dim, shadowed glimpse of that inner self which Fra Paolo so rarely expressed. He had been endeavoring to rouse the lad to enthusiasm. \"Never have I known one show so little pleasure in nature,\" he had said. They were standing on the terrace of a convent among the hills beyond the plains of Venetia, and the view was beautiful and new for the youth.
\"What is nature?\" the lad had responded quietly.
\"Nature?\" Fra Giulio echoed, startled at the question. \"Why, nature is \"It is pleasant,\" the young friar had assented, without enthusiasm. \"But hath God created anything nobler than the mind and soul of man? The earth is but for his habitation.\"
\"Nay,\" the old man had replied, in a tone of disappointment, \"it is more for me—much more for those whom we call poets.\"
\"Poets are dreamers,\" the lad had said, turning to his old friend with a smile which seemed affectionate, yet was baffling, and went not deep enough for love. \"I would not dream; I must know.\"
\"A little dreaming would not hurt thee, my Paolo; for sometimes it seemeth to those who care for thee that thou needest rest.\"
\"Rest is satisfaction,\" the lad answered quickly. \"If there be a problem to be solved, I would rather think than dream. I would rather come in contact with the nobler activities—the mental and spiritual forces—through the minds and works of men. I would find such attrition more helpful than this phase of creation which thou callest ''''nature,'''' whose unfolding is more passive, depending on its inherent law.\"
\"This also is of God''''s gift, Paolo mio,\" Fra Giulio had said yearningly. \"What can be more beautiful,\" the young philosopher had questioned earnestly, \"than the fitting of all to each, the search for hidden keys, the linking of problems that seemed apart? These are the things that move me. I must walk soberly, Fra Giulio, lest I miss some revelation, so sacred and so mysterious is knowledge! And the love of it leaves me no room for questions of outside beauty—this ordered beauty of hidden law is so wonderful!\"
For one moment, as Fra Giulio had looked at him, he fancied that he had seen deeper into his eyes than ever before; then the veil had seemed to rise up from the boy''''s heart and close over its depths. If it had been a moment of self-revelation the young friar was again protected by that baffling calm as he glanced about him, turning affectionately to his old friend. \"It pleaseth me that thou art pleased,\" he said.