Spencer Heath Archive

Item 2001

Booklet printed by Heath reproducing from Olive Schreiner’s Dreams her “In a Ruined Chapel,” which he retitled “The Covenant of Beauty.” Heath always carried this, The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran, and poems of Sam Walter Foss in his traveling bag.

December 1945 

Original is missing.

     The

 COVENANT

      of

        BEAUTY

Taken from Olive Schreincr’s “DREAMS.”

                                The

COVENANT OF BEAUTY

                Being one of Olive Schreiner’s

                                 “DREAMS”

                         IN A RUINED CHAPEL

Reproduced (very slightly revised) by Spencer Heath.

Roadsend Gardens, Montgomery Road,

Elkridge, Maryland, December, 1945

In loving remembrance of a Great Soul

who, divinely inspired, wrought creative

Beauty into transcendent dreams.

  IN A RUINED CHAPEL

HERE are four bare walls; there is a Christ upon the walls, in red, carrying his cross; there is a Blessed Bambino with the face rubbed out; there is a Madonna in blue and red; there are Roman soldiers and a Christ with tied hands. The roof is gone; overhead is the blue, blue Italian sky; the rain has beaten holes in the walls, and the plaster is peeling off. The chapel stands here alone upon the promontory, and by day and by night the sea breaks at its feet. Some say it was set here by the monks from the island down below, that they might bring their sick here in limes of deadly plague. Some say it was set here so that the passing monks and friars, as they hurried by upon the road­way, might stop and say their prayers. Now no one stops here to pray, and the sick come no more to be healed.

1

Behind it runs the old Roman road. If you climb it and come and sit there alone on a hot sunny day you may almost hear at last the clink of the Roman soldiers up­on the pavement, and the sound of that older time, as you sit there in the sun, when Hannibal and his men broke through the brushwood, and no road was.

Now it is very quiet. Sometimes a peas­ant girl comes riding by between her panniers, and you hear the mule’s feet beat upon the bricks of the pavement; sometimes an old woman goes by with a bundle of weeds upon her head, or a brigand-looking man hurries by with a bundle of sticks in his hand; but for the rest the chapel lies here alone upon the promontory, between the two bays, and the sea breaks at its feet.

I came here one winter’s day when the midday sun shone hot upon the bricks of the Roman road. I was weary, and the way seemed steep. I walked into the chapel to the broken window, and looked out across the bay. Far off, across the blue, blue water, were  towns and villages, hanging,  white  and  red dots, upon

2

the mountain-sides, and the blue mountains rose up into the sky, and now stood out from it and now melted back again.

The mountains seemed calling to me, but I knew there would never be a bridge built from them to me; never, never, never! I could not bear to look at them.

I walked through the ruined chapel and looked at the Christ in red carrying his cross, and the Blessed rubbed-out Bambino, and the Roman soldiers, and the folded hands, and the reed; and I went and sat down in the open porch upon a stone. At my feet was the small bay, with its white row of houses buried among the olive trees; the waves broke in a thin, white line of foam along the shore; and I leaned my el­bows on my knees. I was tired, very tired; tired with a tiredness that seemed older than the heat of the day and the shining of the sun on the bricks of the Roman road; and I lay my head upon my knees; I heard the breaking of the water on the rocks three hundred feet below, and the rustling of the wind among the olive trees and the ruined arches, and then I fell asleep. I had a dream.

3

A man cried up to God, and God sent down an angel to help him; and the angel came back and said, “I cannot help that man.”

God said, “How is it with him?”

And the angel said, “He cries out con­tinually that one has injured him; and he would forgive him, but he cannot.”

God said, “What have you done for him?”

The angel said, “All————– . I took

him by the hand, and I said, ‘See, when other men speak ill of that man do you speak well of him; secretly, in ways he shall not know, serve him; if you have anything you value, share it with him, so, serving him, you will at least come to feel posses­sion in him, and you will forgive.’ And he said, ‘I will do it.’ Afterwards, as I passed by in the dark of night, I heard one crying out, ‘I have done all. It helps me nothing! My speaking well of him helps me nothing! If I share my heart’s blood with him, is the burning within me less? I cannot forgive! Oh, God, I cannot forgive!’

4

“I said to him, ‘See here, look back on all your past. See from your childhood all smallness, all indirectness that has been yours; look well at it, and in its light do you not see every man your brother? Are you so sinless you have right to hate?’

“He looked, and said, ‘Yes, you are right; I too have failed, and I forgive my fellow. Go, I am satisfied; I have forgiven’: and he laid down peacefully and folded his hands on his breast, and I thought it was well with him. But scarcely had my wings rustled and I turned to come up here, when I heard one crying out on earth again, ‘I can­not forgive! I cannot forgive! Oh, God, God, I cannot forgive! It is better to die than to hate! I cannot forgive! I cannot forgive!’ And I went and stood outside his door in the dark, and I heard him cry, ‘I have not sinned so, not so! If I have torn my fellows’ flesh ever so little, I have kneeled down and kissed the wound with my mouth till it was healed. I have not willed that any soul should be lost through hate of me. If they have but fancied that I

5

wronged them I have lain down on the ground before them that they might tread on me, and so, seeing my humiliation, for­give and not be lost through hating me; they have not cared that my soul should be lost; they have not willed to save me; they have not tried that I should forgive them!’

“I said to him, ‘See here, be thou con­tent; do not forgive; forget this soul and its injury; go on your way. In the next world perhaps—’

“He cried, ‘Go from me, you understand nothing! What is the next world to me! I am lost now, today. I cannot see the sun­light shine, the dust is in my throat, the sand is in my eyes! Go from me, you know nothing! Oh, once again before I die to see that the world is beautiful! Oh, God, God I cannot live and not love. I cannot live and hate. Oh, God, God, God!’ So I left him crying out and came back here.”

God said, “This man’s soul must be saved.”

6

And the angel said, “But how?”

God said, “Go you down and save it.”

The angel said, “What more shall I do?”

Then God bent down and whispered in the angel’s ear, and the angel spread out its wings and went down to earth.

And partly I woke, sitting there upon the broken stone with my head on my knee; but I was too weary to rise. I heard the wind roam through the olive trees and among the ruined arches, and then I slept again.

The angel went down and found the man with the bitter heart and took him by the hand, and led him to a certain spot.

Now the man wist not where it was the angel would take him nor what he would show him there. And when they came the angel shaded the man’s eyes with his wing, and when he moved it the man saw some­what on the earth before them. For God had given it to that angel to unclothe a human soul; to take from it all those out­ward attributes of form,  and color,  and

7

age, and sex, whereby one man is known from among his fellows and is marked off from the rest, and the soul lay before them, bare, as a man turning his eye inward be­holds himself.

They saw its past, its childhood, the tiny life with the dew upon it; they saw its youth when the dew was melting, and the creature raised its Lilliputian mouth to drink from a cup too large for it, and they saw how the water spilt; they saw its hopes that were never realized; they saw its hours of intellectual blindness men call sin; they saw its hours of all-radiating insight which men call righteousness; they saw its hour of strength, when it leaped to its feet cry­ing, “I am omnipotent”; its hour of weak­ness, when it fell to the earth and grasped dust only; they saw what it might have been, but never would be.

The man bent forward.

And the angel said, “What is it?”

He answered, “It is I! it is myself!” And he went forward as if he would have lain

8

his heart against it; but the angel held him back and covered his eyes.

Now God had given power to the angel further to unclothe that soul, to take from it all those outward attributes of time and place and circumstance whereby the indi­vidual life is marked off from the life of the whole.

Again the angel uncovered the man’s eyes, and he looked. He saw before him that which in its tiny drop reflects the whole universe; he saw that which marks within itself the step of the farthest star, and tells how the crystal grows under­ground where no eye has seen it; that which is where the germ in the egg stirs; which moves the outstretched fingers of the little new-born babe, and keeps the leaves of the trees pointing upward; which moves where the jelly-fish sail alone on the sunny seas, and is where the lichens form on the mountains’ rocks.

And the man looked. And the angel touched him. But the man bowed his head and shud­dered. He whispered—”It is God!”

9

And the angel recovered the man’s eyes. And when he uncovered them there was one walking from them a little way off;— for the angel had re-clothed the soul in its outward form and vesture—and the man knew who it was.

And the angel said, “Do you know him?”

And the man said, “I know him,” and he looked after the figure.

And the angel said, “Have you forgiven him?”

But the man said, “How beautiful my brother is!”

And the angel looked into the man’s eyes, and he shaded his own face with his wing from the light. He laughed softly and went up to God.

But the men remained together on the earth.

I awoke.

   The blue, blue sky was over my head, and the waves were breaking below on the shore.  I walked through the little chapel,  and I saw the Madonna in blue and red,

10

and the Christ carrying his cross, and the Roman soldiers with the rod, and the Blessed Bambino with its broken face; and then I walked down the sloping rock to the brick pathway. The olive trees stood up on either side of the road; their black berries and pale-green leaves stood out against the sky; and the little ice-plants hung from the crevices in the stone wall. It seemed to me as if it must have rained while I was asleep.

I walked down the road. The old, old, old tiredness was gone. I thought I had never seen the heavens and the earth look so beautiful before.

Presently there came down the path a peasant boy leading his ass, with two large panniers fastened to her sides. They went down the road before me.

I had never seen him before; but I should have liked to walk by him and to have held his hand—only, he would not have known why.

Alassio, Italy.

11

Excerpt from    “THE SUNLIGHT”

God took me to the edge of that world. It ended. I looked down. The gulf, it seemed to me, was fathomless; and then I saw two bridges crossing it that both sloped upward.

I said to God, “Is there no other way by which men cross?”

God said, “One; it rises far from here and slopes straight upward.”

I asked God what the bridges’ names were.

God said, “What matter for the names? Call them the Good, the True, the Beauti­ful, if you will—you will yet not under­stand them.”

I asked God how it was I could not see the third.

God said, “It is seen only by those who climb it.”

12