even a leprous priest to say Mass for
him. The disease rotted away his flesh till he died, limbless or
faceless in fearful shipwreck, and unhouselled. These wretches this
bishop took under his peculiar care. He would wash them with his own
hands, as his mother did before him, kiss them, serve them with meat,
drink, and money. He would have thirteen together in his room, if he
could find that number. He maintained many, both men and women. He would
go to the Malandry, stop in a cell there, accompanied by a few of his
devoutest and closest friends, and cosset the lepers motheringly,
telling them they were desolate and afflicted only to be rewarded for
ever, persuading them to a holy life with his pitying words, reproving
them for their evil deeds (and many lepers were horribly immoral); but
before ever he talked to them he kissed the men, embracing longer and
more lovingly those who were worst smitten. The swelled, black,
gathered, deformed faces, eyeless or lipless, were a horror to behold,
but to Hugh they seemed lovely, in the body of their humiliation. Such
he said were happy, were Paradise flowers, great crown gems of the King
Eternal. He would use these as a text and speak of Christ's compassion
to the wretched, Christ who now took ulcerous Lazarus by angels to
Abraham's bosom and now became weak with our weakness. "Oh, how happy
they were who were close about that so sweet man as his friends!
Whatever his foot trod upon, or any part of him had touched, or his
hands had handled, it would be sweet indeed to me, to devour with
kisses, to put to my eyes, to bury in my very heart if I could. What of
this superfluous humour, if one may use the word of what flowed from the
tree of life? What am I to feel of that humour which used to be poured
from a vase of such blessing because He bare our infirmity? Why, of
course, if I only could, I should diligently gather Him, yes, and drain
Him with my lips, drink Him in with my jaws, and hide just Him in my
inward parts. Those are the really wretched, who fear aught else than to
offend One so sweet. Those are the pitiful who esteem aught else sweet,
or seek aught else than sweetly to cleave to this sweet One and sweetly
obey Him. I do not know what he can feel to be bitter, who with the
inner palate of the heart has learnt by continuous meditation to feed on
the sweetness of this Sweet." Thus inspired, he looked upon the weaker
limbs of Christ, honouring those whom others passed by.