It was while musing in my solitude upon the harm done by ignorant
pretenders in sowing error broadcast in the waste places of the world
that I received a call from one of the class, who came to beg my
countenance for a lecture upon Luther the Monk and Monkery. He was a
vociferous personage and prodigal of his words. He added to all his
sins this one, that he did not know when to go. He had no tact, only
talk. Irritated at last beyond endurance, my normal suavity forsook
me, and I spoke with brutal plainness. Of course he was wroth, and
pressed for an explanation. In a weak moment I yielded. "To begin
with," said I, "Luther, strictly speaking, was not a monk at all!"
[Footnote: He belonged to the order of Friars Eremite under the
Augustinian Rule.] It was a foolish speech: first, because it made my
friend an offender for a word; and, secondly, because there was more
truth in it than the man was capable of understanding or was prepared
to receive; but it had the effect of ridding me of a bore. As he took
his leave he shot at me this Parthian shaft--" If you are above
learning, sir," he said," perhaps teaching might not be beneath you.
Could you not, for instance, let the world know something about monks
and monasteries some day? Even I, ignorant as you pronounce me, have
heard of your lecturing on a thirteenth-century village.
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