The Argosy — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

62 Letters from Majorca. vaulted roof and grand proportions, and must once have been magnificent with gildings and paintings. All this has disappeared, or exists only in those faint shadows and remnants which tell so sadly of things that have been. An altar is still there, and above it was a modern copy of Murillo’s © virgin, extremely well painted. ‘This has been done by a young artist of Pollensa, of so much talent that he has gone to Rome to study his craft. ‘The picture stands extremely well in this large and gloomy building. Its colour is vivid yet refined. ‘The form of the Madonna is full of dignity and grace as she seems to be soaring through liquid ether into the heaven of heavens. Her exquisite face looks down upon you with all the serenity of holiness, the beauty of a perfect soul shining out from her enraptured gaze. The story of the desecrated church is a strange one. It dates far back in the years of the past. Monks and priests were of course devoted to a religious life. For them the pomps and vanities of the world existed not. ‘The lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, the devil and all his works, they had renounced by the most sacred vows. If we could only do so in real life by murmuring a formula of words which should exorcise the evil within, and set free the spiritual warfare for ever going on between darkness and light ! But to the story of the monks. There came a day when a religious service ought to have been cele- brated. Candles and incense and prayers, the ecstasy of devotion, the pathos of confession and the praise of thanksgiving: this is what ought to have been. Instead of that, listen to what happened; and while you listen, spread your fan and hide your face. These wicked monks and priests gave a masked ball in the church, and when the midnight mass ought to have been sending out its Gregorian monotone, there went forth instead scenes of riot and revelry, shrieks of laughter and shouts of dissipation ; men and women abandoning themselves to the wild pleasures and dances of the hour, the intoxication of the sparkling cup. I pass over the scene. [I dare not tell you in how short a time the sword of vengeance fell upon the wicked monks, and upon all who took part in that desecrating revelry. I dare say the account is exaggerated ; for exaggeration is the weakness of human nature and the tendency of history. Enough that the punishment was dire. The silent corridors and desecrated church are a proof that something of truth at least lies in the story. Of course it was mere fancy, but it positively seemed to me that the dark shadow of Retribution lay upon the cold, dismantled walls. Lastly, at the other end of the town, we visited some wonderful old cloisters : the most interesting and picturesque next to those of San Francisco in Palma. These, too, must once have been part of a monastery, and silent monks must have trod their pavement and CONNICMOOOKS. COnl